Page 50 of Chasing After You
And it dawns on me there might be another reason why Henry won’t kiss me—other than him not being attracted to me, but come on, how could he not be attracted to me?It’s all the role models in his life telling him that it’s wrong, including his own father. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter what his age is because I’m not a minor. I’m a consenting adult, as is Henry. There’s no reason for you and my parents to be treating Henry like he’s some kind of criminal when he’s not,” I insist stubbornly. Chris stares at me for a minute, contemplating my words before a small smile breaks the hard line his mouth had previously been set in.
“You sound so much like your mother right now.”
It makes my heart bloom with happiness more than I’d like to admit. My mom is amazing when she’s not looking at me and my boyfriend like we’re huge disappointments to her.
“He’s not a criminal, kiddo, but that still doesn’t make it right. Don’t you want to date someone your own age? He is in a completely different point of his life than you are. How is that fair to either of you?” he asks me, and I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly.
“You’re still not getting it. When have I ever been able to relate to people my own age? I’ve been treated like an adult since the day I started competing globally. How many times did my parents leave me alone in different countries with my coach because they trusted that I would make the right decisions without them there because of Dad’s schedule?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. “The answer is more times than we can count on our hands together. I like Henry, and he makes me happy. I hope I make him happy too, but that’s what you should care about. I want to see where the relationship can go, but it’s difficult when we’re being lectured by the people who are supposed to love both of us unconditionally.”
“Mirabelle—”
I stand up abruptly. We’re going around in circles, and I have places to be today. “I love you, Chris, and I love my parents, but you’re all so fucking wrong about this. Dad’s right. He shouldn’t be proud of how he reacted. And you? You have no idea what your son is going through right now. He doesn’t need this on top of it.”
His face shifts to a look of concern, and I know I immediately took things too far.Shit. Henry is going to kill me.“What is that supposed to mean?”
I can’t mention the team wanting to trade Henry. I’m not sure what Uncle Owen has and hasn’t told them. Fuck, why did I open my mouth? “He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders from the amount of pressure he puts on himself. And, for the record, before criticizing us about our relationship, you might want to have a conversation with your ex-wife.”
Chris’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “Allison’s calling Henry?”
Yeah, it’s time to go. I absolutely shouldn’t have said that.I grab my phone off the table and briskly walk toward the house, realizing now that I probably should have gotten confirmation from Henry that the Allison Price whose calls he’s been declining are actually from his mother, but now I definitely know they are. I hate seeing Henry upset every time it happens, and after, he usually disappears to go to the gym, hides in a book, or sulks in the pool.
Fuck, I’m going to have to tell Henry about this. Maybe if I ask Uncle Owen nicely, he’ll slam my head between the front door and the frame around it to put me out of my misery.
Penelope is packing a container of food as Uncle Owen and Aunt Blake stare at me.I can’t believe I came here this morning.“Wait, will you take this to Henry please? It’s some of his favorites,” she says, pushing the container into my hands.
“Yes, sorry, I have to go. I’ll talk to you guys later. Love you,” I blurt out, securing the food in my hands as I make my break before Chris can catch up to me, especially after I hear the door open behind me.
“Mirabelle, you can’t say that and run away!”
Oh shit.He sounds pissed, but I’m hopeful it’s not directed at me. Why did I open my mouth?
My dad unfortunately chooses that exact moment to step into the doorway, effectively blocking my escape path as I bounce off him. I bobble the container, quickly securing it against me before it can hit the floor and break. He stares at me for a moment, and I see all the physical similarities we share. This might be the closest we’ve been in terms of proximity since that day at the field, but I’ve never felt further away from him. He looks above me where Chris has narrowed the gap between us.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you really are your parents’ kid,” Chris swears under his breath, despite the fact we can both hear him. “How long?” he asks behind me, and Dad’s silent gaze shifts back to me.
“How long what?” Dad asks, and I gauge the gap between him and the doorway to see if I can slip through it.
I bite down, choosing silence which is what I should have done in the first place.
“Allison’s been calling Henry, and I want to know what else Mirabelle knows about it, but she ran off after dropping that bomb. Fucking spitting image of her mother at this age,” Chris says, and I can confidently say, I never want to be on the receiving end of that tone again. God, my head is pounding.
Dad blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting Chris to say that. “What? Why wouldn’t he say anything if she was?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you accused him of statutory rape,” I reply without thinking, causing my father to visibly flinch.
Good. He should know how awful that is.
“Mirabelle, you don’t know the situation. How long has Allison been contacting Henry?” Chris presses, and my temper flares.
How dare he say I don’t know the situation? Up until a minute ago, nobody even knew there was a fucking situation to begin with.
“Monkey, je sais que les choses sont difficile entre nous en ce moment. C’est vraiment important,”20 Dad says, and I feel tears burn in my eyes at the use of my childhood nickname. He hasn’t called me that in years. I used to climb anything I saw, and after giving my parents enough heart attacks, they enrolled me in gymnastics.
I blink rapidly as my insides feel like they’re being ripped in two. The logical part of me insists that he’s wrong and owes an apology to me and Henry, but the emotional part longs for my dad to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
I look closely at him, noting the sadness lingering in his eyes and in the aging lines of his face. It’s the type of sadness that appears after talking about his family.
