Page 30 of My Boyfriend's Possessive Daddy

“Somebody like me?”

“Did I stutter?”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around this all. When Elodie spoke about her abusive boyfriend, never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined it was my son. I mean, what are the fucking odds?

“This is a fucking nightmare,” he says.

“Yeah, it really is,” I say. “It’s a nightmare that my son would act that way in somebody else’s home. That my son would abuse his girlfriend?—”

“I never abused her. I never raised a hand to her.”

“There are other forms of abuse, and I think you know that. And based on what she told me, I’d say you qualify as an abuser.”

“Then she’s fucking lying to you. She does that, you know.”

“Based on what I just saw and how you were behaving in Mrs. Carter’s home, I’m inclined to believe her and not you.”

“And that’s the problem, Dad. You’ve never been on my side. Ever!”

“I’m not going to take your side when you’re in the wrong. And believe me, kid, you’re very much in the wrong right now. You can’t treat people like that.”

“Gee, thanks for the fatherly advice. You’re a little late, though.”

He folds his arms over his chest and glares at me, twenty-two years of childish and petulant anger emanating from every pore in his body.

“She’s my girlfriend, Dad. You need to?—”

“The way I understand it, she broke things off with you.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“She seemed pretty clear about what she wanted,” I say and look at Ben pointedly, “and what she doesn’t want.”

Ben shakes his head. “What the fuck, man? I mean, what are you even doing with a girl half your age? Do you even know how ridiculous you look?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“No. You’ve never cared. And that’s part of the problem.”

“See, you don’t get to blame your problems on me, kid. I tried to have a relationship with you. You rejected me, remember? You told me you didn’t want a relationship with me,” I tell him. “That’s all on you. That was your choice. You don’t get to turn around now and tell me it’s because I wasn’t around that you became this asshole who abuses women.”

“I don’t abuse anybody!”

I glance at the house, and Elodie is still standing in the doorway. Her arms are folded over her chest, and in addition to looking confused, she looks scared. It pains me to see because I never want to see Elodie afraid of anything. Especially not me.

“Look, Elodie doesn’t want to be with you. That’s more than clear,” I say. “And you have no right to barge into Mrs. Carter’s house and act the way you did. It’s time for you to go.”

“You don’t get to tell me when I need to leave.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Oh, gee, are you going to call the cops on me too?”

“I will.”

“Of course you will. Because you’re not man enough to handle me on your own.”

My son is a big kid. But I’m bigger. I’m also a lot meaner than he is and have taken plenty of martial arts classes in my day. He was never motivated enough to do that. So, I have little doubt that if push came to shove, I could whip his ass without breaking a sweat. I’m determined to not let things deteriorate that much, though.

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