Page 22 of My Boyfriend's Protective Daddy

“You tracked me down after all those years for a reason. You wanted a relationship with me,” I tell him. “And I want a relationship with you.”

“Why? So you can fuck all my girlfriends?”

“I had no idea that you knew Cassie, Zane. She just showed up at my door one night because she was running from you. Because you scared the shit out of her,” I say.

“We had a fight. It happens.”

“Not all fights end up with somebody scared you were going to beat them.”

“I would have never hurt her.”

“She feared you might,” I say. “That’s the point. She ran from you because she thought you might actually hurt her.”

“Then she’s an idiot.”

“What I saw that day you came to the bar tells me she’s not. Or that she overreacted,” I tell him. “You raised your hand to her. I thought you were going to hit her too, Zane. That’s why I stepped in when I did.”

“What do you want from me, Cash?”

“I want to find a way through this. I want us to keep building our relationship and not let this situation blow everything up.”

“Yeah, well, I want the winning lottery numbers,” he says. “I guess both of us are just going to have to get used to disappointment.”

“You never even told me Cassie’s name, Zane. You didn’t tell me the first thing about her. How in the fuck was I supposed to know she was your girlfriend?”

“She’s half your age, man.”

“So? Should I have known she was your girl just because she’s younger than me?”

“Younger than you? She’s young enough to be your kid,” he says, his voice thick with scorn. “How about going after somebody a little more age-appropriate? Jesus Christ.”

“We don’t get to choose who we fall for, kid. And some people just click on levels you never expected. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.”

“Great. Thanks for the life lesson,” he spits. “You’re a little late to be doling out fatherly advice. Like, almost twenty years too late.”

“So, you’re going to blame me for your mother’s decision again, huh? Is there anything you don’t want to blame me for?”

He shrugs. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“You know, you’re pretty fucking good at playing the goddamn victim. But maybe you should learn to take responsibility for your own bullshit, kid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you might not be in this spot if you learned how to treat women with some fucking respect. Maybe, if you’d been a decent person, Cassie never would have left you in the first place. Your current situation is because of decisions you made. Because of things you’ve done. But you refuse to take responsibility because you’re too busy blaming other people. That’s what I mean. Learn to take responsibility for your own shit, kid. Learn to be a better man and a better human being overall. Do that and you might just be able to hold on to somebody as special as Cassie.”

“Whatever. You don’t know shit.”

He glares at me for a long moment, looking as if I just slapped him across the face. He’s not hearing what I’m saying. He’s still too busy playing the victim to accept that he has a role—that he’s the reason, actually—behind Cassie leaving him. What happened between them is his fault. Period. Plain and simple. And it appalls me that Zane, my son, not only treats women like garbage but is such a punk that he can’t take responsibility for his actions. Like Cassie, I’m disillusioned with him, to say the least.

“You’re not the person I thought you were,” I say sadly. “I honestly thought you were better than this. But you’re not even a decent person. I can see why she couldn’t get away from you fast enough. It all makes sense now.”

He recoils, surprise and hurt on his face. He quickly recovers though and puts that petulant, angry expression back on his face. He folds his arms over his chest.

“You want a relationship with me?” he asks.

“I would. But if we’re going to have a relationship, you need to work on yourself.”

He waves me off. “I’m not going to be able to have a relationship with you if you’re with her,” he says. “She hurt me. Badly. I can’t have that constant reminder in my life.”

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