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“Vaeh, I think we should talk about what just happened,” he says, sounding more demanding than anything else.
“Not today, Papa,” I say because before we can talk,Ineed to make sense of the situation myself.
“Tomorrow.” He’s not asking in the slightest, which bothers the hell out of me.
“You know, you’re barely home, Papa. I know you haven’t really seen me grow up, but I am. I’m twenty-one years old and what happens between a guy and me is my problem unless I come to you for help. You’re a great father when you’re here, but I need you to stay behind the line you’ve drawn, not cross it,” I reply firmly, standing my ground in front of him for the first time in my life.
“He’s three years older than you, which means he’s a lot more mature,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth after a few moments of silence. Hurt laces my expression so he quickly adds, “Look at your behavior toward Lincoln. The fighting between the two of you, it’s childish. A grown man like Adrian would never want something serious with someone who can’t even be polite to a close family friend.”
It’s my fault that he doesn’t know why Lincoln and I aren’t on good terms, but he has no right to say this to me. The wound Lincoln opened in my chest has not closed enough for my father to poke it.
“I will show you real maturity now. Instead of pointing out that you have no idea what you’re talking about becauseyou weren’t there when I needed you most, I’m going to walk away. Nothing I’d say to you right now would bepolite,so I’ll stay at Aileen’s flat for the night. At least she knows who I am. Maybe you should get to know me better before throwing something so hurtful at my head.” I walk over to Nova to grab my purse and let her know where I plan to be.
“Aileen’s spending a few days at her parents’ house. You can’t go to her,” she informs me.
A groan of frustration almost slips past my lips, but I manage to press them shut to keep the sound inside.
There is only one place I can think of going to escape my father, but it comes at a high price. If I wasn’t so mad at him, I wouldn’t even consider it, but I’m furious.
I have no other option.
Well, here goes nothing…
Chapter 11
Nevaeh
Everymuscleinmybody fights against my intention to knock on the Nashes’ door. This is a terrible idea, but Elena Nash is one of my favorite people in the world. Whenever I have problems with my parents, she welcomes me with open arms. Knowing she’ll hug me until my anger fades gives me the courage to knock.
Lincoln doesn’t even live here anymore, so the chance of seeing him is pretty low. Unfortunately for me, it's not low enough.
He opens the door with a confused and surprised expression, his lips parted and his eyes wide. My gaze drops to his bare chest. His defined abs take my breath away in the same way they have since he started working hard to build them. I hate that my body still reacts to him the same way it used to when we were still friends, when we were very close to becoming more.
Instead of lingering, I focus on the gray dirt on his arms, but his words soon distract me.
“Butterfly, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lincoln asks, and I lift my fingers to my cheeks to see he’s right.
I hadn’t even noticed the tears until he pointed them out. What Papa said must bother me more than I thought. I wipe them away when suddenly, Lincoln takes my face in his hands to remove them for me. My body freezes in place, but I don’t pull away. I can’t concentrate on my anger toward him when I’m so sick and tired of fighting with the people I care about.
It’s weighing heavily on my mental health.
“I came to see your mom,” I say with a raspy, barely audible voice, but he doesn’t pull away. His concern lingers as he catches more of my tears with his thumbs.
The friend he used to be to me, my best friend, is standing in front of me right now, not the man I’ve grown to hate, and I have no idea how to act anymore.
“She is in a meeting, Nevs, but come in. I will make you tea,” he offers, and I hesitate. I haven’t forgiven him, not yet, but I also have nowhere to go.
Elena will eventually have some time for me, and, meanwhile, I will drink a cup of tea with the guy I despise a little less at the moment.
“Okay,” I mutter and follow him inside where he removes my coat to hang it in the closet.
“Vanilla Rooibos, right?” Lincoln asks as he pulls the teas from one of the many cupboards in his parents’ small kitchen. They recently remodeled it to make it more modern and have white be the dominant color. “Nevaeh?” Lincoln’s husky voice pulls my attention to him, and I walk over to the high chairs at the kitchen island.
“Yeah, sure,” My tired legs help me settle down on one of the chairs while my eyes never leave Lincoln’s muscular back, too suspicious of his next move to look away.
“I can feel you digging a hole into my back with your eyes,” he states without even looking at me.
“You’re really full of yourself to assume that, you know?” I reply with a harsh laugh, and Lincoln spins around to hand me my cup.
