Page 29 of Broken Halo
Damn, Trig.
“Do you want me to take him?” Quinn offers holding out her hands for Griffin. “We can play with his blocks so you two won’t be interrupted.”
I’m not willing to give up my shield, even though he is my son and just a baby. “No.”
But at the same moment, Trig growls, “Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t get a say.”
But Griffin has other plans and practically jumps out of my arms toward my new, young assistant.
Quinn smiles at him and heads for the door. “We’ll just be right out here. I won’t take my eyes off him.”
Then, I’m alone with Trig.
A-fucking-gain.
Not that I’ve been sleeping well at all lately, but I tossed and turned last night after I slammed my door on him. I couldn’t stop thinking about Faye and how angry he was that I had any type of friendship whatsoever with his mom.
I might’ve gotten up this morning with no clue who my attorney would be, but I also dragged my ass out of bed after a shitty night’s sleep and promised myself that yesterday was my low. I’m done being fucked over by everyone. CPS, Robert’s parents, being arrested for drugs that aren’t mine, and most specifically, by the man sitting across from me. I’ve had it with my former lover.
I need a new lease on life and I’m the only one who can make that happen. Just because he threw away everything a decade ago and wouldn’t let me explain when I begged him to just listen, doesn’t mean I have to put up with his shit now and I don’t plan to.
I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. He might’ve surprised me yesterday, but today I’m awake, overly-caffeinated, and in a thoroughly bad mood. “Get out. I told you last night I don’t want anything to do with you and I meant it. I’ll call Scott and tell him he’s my number-one man again.”
Trig says nothing. He doesn’t even open the paperwork he just tossed on my desk, making my messy office messier. He sits in his own folding chair and methodically unbuttons the cuffs to his dress shirt like he’s about to enter into a brawl to end all brawls. When I see his tanned, veined forearms, he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top of his shirt. And through it all, he never takes his eyes off me, regarding me like prey, deciding if he should grill or roast me for dinner.
It makes me even angrier when he sits back in the cheap chair and tips his head but says nothing.
I break the heavy silence. “No need to get comfortable, Trig. You might report to my sister but I’m the one with her ass on the line this time. Get the fuck out.”
He doesn’t get the fuck out. “You called me.”
I frown. “No, I didn’t. I specifically did not call you because I don’t want you here.”
He studies me like I’m either a science experiment or a freak show. At this point, I’m betting on the latter. When his eyes narrow, he chooses his words and delivers them smoothly. “You called me right after I moved to California. It was November. The day before Thanksgiving.”
My heart stops. Or races. Or whatever the fuck it does when you get a sucker punch to the gut.
I say nothing because all words escape me.
“Well?” he pushes.
I do everything I can to remember how empowered I felt this morning when I decided no one but me could piece my soul back together again. I might have to bite the inside of my lip when I do it, but I come out the victor when I manage to even my voice. “Well what? You didn’t ask me a question and you’re telling me something we both know. I’d appreciate it if you’d clean your shit off my desk so I can call my sister and chew her ass out right before I call my real attorney. My court date is set and I need to be prepared.”
“You called me over and over. You were fucking relentless.”
Shit. I wasn’t relentless—I was desperate. “Get out.”
“I deleted every single voicemail without listening to them.”
Well then. I did not know that.
I’d flown home for Thanksgiving after the three worst months of my life and couldn’t take it another day. Now I’m happy to know he didn’t hear my pleas for forgiveness and understanding—that I can see him and know he doesn’t understand my level of hopelessness that was pathetic. I cringe when I think back on it.
I lick my lips and do everything I can to swallow over the lump in my throat. “Good to know.”
He just won’t stop. “I got sick of your texts and blocked you.”
