Page 27 of Ring Me

“I'm sorry. I thought—”

“That something had happened to him? That he'd been around until a tragic accident stole him away?” I snorted derisively. “He left my mother when she was pregnant. I don't even know his name, and before you ask, no—I don't want to. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a father.”

Empathy made his blue eyes shimmer. He faced me fully, and I wasn't sure if he was going to hug me. I didn't know if I wanted him to. I felt bristly, resistant to affection, ready to fight. But when Conner walked right by me, I... deflated. I'd just shared something very personal, and the last time I'd talked about my father with someone, it had backfired.

It was like I'd learned nothing from the past.

People always let you down. How had I forgotten that?

Conner set his glass of water on my counter, then he whirled around, sweeping me up in his muscular arms like I was about to melt into the floor if he gave up an inch. “I'm sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I didn't mean to pry.”

“It's okay. It's not a big deal.” Smiling hurt but I did it anyway.

Conner squeezed me tighter, saying nothing. Relaxing into his touch gave me strength.

“You know,” I whispered sadly, “I was nervous you'd try and figure out why my dad had left.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Ben... when I told him about this, he tried to defend my dad. He said my mom had tried to trap him in a relationship.” I frowned, hugging Conner more fiercely. “He used to make rude jokes about how I'd better be using birth control, because he didn't want me to end up like my mom, single with a baby to raise alone.”

“What an asshole.”

“Yeah,” I laughed dryly. “I wasted so much time on him. My friend, Aubrey, she says my biggest strength is how competitive I am. But that it's also my worst flaw. She's right. I was so set on treating my relationship like it was a problem that could be solved if I kept chipping at it. That's why I stayed with him when it was obvious we were a terrible fit.”

I breathed in lavishly, winding my arms around his body, feeling his broad back under my fingertips. We stayed like that—no words, just our presence—as my fish tank buzzed in the background. He ran a hand over my shoulder-blades. “I was raised by a single mom, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was tough as nails.”

“Was?”

“She died two years ago,” he sighed. “A stroke.”

I staggered from that heavy info. “I'm... so sorry, that must have been a shock.”

He offered a half smile, pushing the hair from my forehead to behind my ear. “It was. But I think, knowing her, she would have taken a sudden, surprise death over something that created lingering pain. She was the sort who ripped off band-aids. She made it clear I could cry, but I don't think I ever saw her shed a tear.”

“My mom is like that, too. Tougher than a coconut, rough as one at times, but she always made sure I knew she loved me.”

“That's why you're doing whatever you can to make sure she's taken care of,” he said.

I blushed, backing away and heading into the kitchen to get myself something to drink. The fridge's white interior light made me squint—I grabbed a half-empty bottle of leftover orange juice. “She worked her ass off my whole life to make sure I was happy.” I took a big drink of the juice, enjoying how tart it was on my tongue. “It's my duty, I guess.”

“When you have kids, will you expect them to care for you?”

Choking on the juice, I covered my mouth, gawking at him. “Kids? Me?”

His shoulders lifted, but he didn't look ashamed at making such an assumption. “You strike me as someone who'd be a good mom.”

“I don't know how to take that.”

“It's not a bad thing, is it? Wanting a family?”

I walked quickly towards my sink, rinsing my glass out, letting the water run loudly so I had a reason not to respond. I felt him watching me curiously. My neck began to burn. Just say something! I told myself. I cut the water off because the glass was more than clean and the situation was stretching into being awkward. “It's not bad,” I hesitated, “If you're ready for it.”

“And you're not ready.”

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