Page 65 of Kisses and Paperclips

“I’ll never show up unannounced again,” my father said quickly, like a student reciting a line under threat of detention.

“And?” Julien’s grip didn’t loosen.

My father’s lips trembled. His eyes darted to mine, like I might rescue him.

I didn’t.

“I’m… I’m a spineless asshole.”

My breath caught. I wasn’t sure if I was going to scream or laugh or cry. Maybe all three.

“Julien,” I said finally, voice quiet but firm.

He stiffened at the sound of my voice, like he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. He looked at me then, really looked, and just like that, the fire in his eyes simmered.

He let go.

“You can go now,” he said, stepping back.

He just looked tired.

The room was still quiet, but something shifted in the air. Not pity. Not scandal.

Respect.

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I reached to tuck a curl behind my ear and missed.

My fingers brushed nothing but air, my body betraying me in a way my pride never would.

I took a step forward. Just one. Toward the chaos that was my father.

Julien’s hand caught me at the waist, his touch firm but gentle, his fingers pressing just enough to make me pause. “Easy.” His voice was a low, velvety rasp that slid over my skin like a secret. The kind of tone that could calm a spooked horse, talk a woman off a ledge, or make her forget why she was standing on one in the first place.

I froze.

Not because he stopped me.

But because for the first time in years, I let someone try.

My father slumped against the wall, cradling his wrist like it was the only thing holding him together. The curses he muttered were slurred, messy and the kind of words that came from a man who’d spent a lifetime blaming the world for his own wreckage.

Julien’s thumb stroked my hip twice, a silent reassurance that somehow steadied my breath. Then, without a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders, surrounding me in the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne dark, woodsy, and undeniably him.

“Let security handle it.”

I watched as two men in uniforms helped my father up, his legs unsteady. He shook them off at the last second, because even half-drunk and humiliated, he had to have the final say.

“He’s still my father.” The words were more of a reminder to myself than to Julien. I was exhausted from defending him. Been doing that most my life.

Julien’s fingers pressed more firmly where he held me. “I know,” he said softly. “But maybe now he’ll remember that too.”

The music swelled around us, the party moving on as if nothing had happened.

But everything had.

Because at that moment, with Julien’s jacket wrapped around me and his hand holding mine, I realized something dangerous…

I didn’t want to be the strong one anymore.

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