“Look,” I scoot out of the booth and stand, “I like you, Jude … as a friend.” As if that isn’t obvious. “And as a friend, I’m asking you to drop this.”
I pick up my uneaten food to get back to work, but he stops me. “Whatever this is, is it worth it?”
I exhale heavily, tears stinging my eyes. “It has to be.”
41
Teddy
“What the fuck is all of this?” Jude enters our suite, looking around at every surface covered in cookies. Cookies on plates, in baggies, on cooling racks, literally everywhere. “How many cookies have you made? Is there a bake-off happening? A charity auction? Explain, I’m begging you.” The door closes behind him, his boots landing with a thud a moment later.
“I’m stress-baking,” I bite out.
“What are you this stressed about?” He picks up a chocolate chip cookie and shoves it in his mouth, crumbs dribbling out of his mouth onto the floor.
“I think my dad has something to do with Vanessa breaking up with me.”
“And your solution was to bake cookies?” He swipes another one—oatmeal raisin this time—he cringes and tosses it in the trash before grabbing chocolate chip.
“You know about my dad.” My shoulders hunch, the counter clasped tightly in my hands. Letting all my friends in on the secret of my abusive father was fucking hard. It’s still weird thinking about telling them all, but I’m glad they know. “Confronting him is difficult to me—don’t get me wrong, I’m going to—but first…” I trail off, motioning to the piles and piles of cookies.
“Wow.” His eyes widen. “That’s a hell of a lot of stress over one person.”
“It’s not easy challenging your abuser.”
Jude’s eyes fill with sympathy. I hate it. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. He swipes two more cookies and claps me on the shoulder. “You’re stronger than he is. Don’t let small men make you feel weak. He’s torn you down because he knows you’re more than he can ever be.”
“Thanks, man.” Looking at the mess of cookies, I know I need to stop avoiding this. “Do me a favor and hand these out around campus. I’m going to see my dad.”
Jude grins. “Are you sure you don’t need company?”
“I can handle this.”
I let myself into the house. It’s possible he’s not even here. For all I know he’s flown off to another country for business or he’s playing golf with his rich friends. But when I got in my car, this is where I came, as if drawn by a magnet.
I surge through the house like a raging storm. Any staff I pass eyes me speculatively. No doubt they’re aware I haven’t been called here, and since I don’t show up voluntarily, they’re probably wondering what the hell is up.
“Teddy?” My mom’s high-pitched shriek of my name comes from the tea-room.
Yes, the tea-room. A room specifically for drinking tea. Or at least that’s all I’ve ever seen her do there.
I halt my steps, back tracking to poke my head in the room. “I’m looking for Dad.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen, darting above her to where he’s probably upstairs in his office. “Why?” She looks scared. Shaky. Like she knows confrontation between him and me is coming and it terrifies her.
I narrow my eyes on her, studying the way even in the summer heat she’s wearing long sleeves.
“Roll your sleeves up.”
“What?” Her lashes brush her cheeks, stunned by my question. Frustrated, I stalk forward, gently taking her wrist in my hand. “No, no. Teddy, don’t,” she pleads, but it’s useless. I yank up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a band of bruises on her slender arm in the shape of fingerprints.
Our eyes meet, a wordless communication passing between us.
“Why didn’t you ever leave him?”
She swallows, eyes dropping to the floor. “Do you really think a man that powerful would let me leave?”
“Fuck.” I rub my hand over my face. “I hate him.”
She smiles sadly, touching her hand to my cheek. “I know.”
“Vanessa broke up with me.”
“What? No.” She looks at me with surprise and disbelief.
“I think he made her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I won’t let him control my life anymore.”
“You don’t have to.” She lets her hand fall from my face.
“Is he in his office?”
“Mhmm,” she hums.
Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my head in her neck. Neither of us has ever spoken a word about the abuse, maybe thinking if we didn’t give it voice then it wasn’t real. But this has to end.
“I’m going to graduate, Mom. I’ll be on my own. Leave him. We can figure it out.”
“It’s not that simple.” I can see her retreating into herself, her body physically curling up as she tries to make herself smaller.
“Okay.” My voice is soft, hurt. But I know better than to push this right now. There will be plenty of time later for me to try to convince her to walk away from him.
Leaving her to her tea, I bound upstairs down the long hall and into his office.
He’s on the phone when I shove the door open. I can tell it’s on the tip of his tongue to yell at whoever has dared to breach his space, but he must see something on my face that stops him from doing that.
“I’m going to have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone and stands. Despite working from home, he’s dressed in a suit and tie. It’s pathetic how far he goes to be in control. “What are you doing here, son?”
“Something tells me you already know.”
“Ah.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “The girl.”
Storming forward, I slam my palms down on the table. Items on his desk rattle but he doesn’t seem to care. He stands there, coolly amused. “The girl?” I repeat in a mocking tone. “The. Girl? You mean the one I love, the woman who means more to me than my next fucking breath? That one?”
“Don’t be dramatic, son. I know she was blackmailing you.” He sits down, leaning back in his chair. Calm, cool, collected. Nothing ruffles this man.
“Blackmailing me? What the hell makes you think that?”
His eyes narrow. “I know you paid off her tuition.”
If he was anyone else, I’d tell the truth, but I can’t do that. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I love her and wanted to do that?”
His lips turn down in a frown, and I realize that no, this thought didn’t cross his mind. He’s so fucking jaded his first thought was blackmail.
“If that were the case, she wouldn’t have agreed so easily.”
“Agreed to what?”
“To go away.”
“What did you do to her?” Fear rattles inside me, of what he might’ve done or said to her.
“Nothing.” He can’t help but smirk. “I offered her money, but she wouldn’t take it.”
He tried to pay her to break up with me, and she said no? Then what—