Page 107 of Hot Damn
“I looked it up online. Dad told me what the doctor said but I needed more than that, so I did some research.”
“I think not eating has drained me of energy and I’m glad you’re happy to serve me.”
Her gaze meets mine. “You’re in luck because Dad’s chicken noodle soup is the perfect thing to build your strength back up.”
“It smells good.”
“Tastes good too.” She slowly spoons the fragrant liquid intoa bowl. “I’ll give you half a bowl first. You can have more if you feel up to it.”
I press a hand to my rumbling tummy. “I’ll definitely be having more.”
“Don’t make yourself sick. I can always heat up more later.”
“Whitney.”
Her eyes meet mine again. “Yeah?”
“I’m okay. I’m hungry, a little drained of energy, but other than that I feel completely normal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Reaching out, I put a hand on her arm when she places my bowl in front of me. “I’m fine.”
A sob catches in her throat before she blurts out, “It’s all my fault.”
“No.” I push to my feet. Take the ladle from her hand and put it back in the pot. With both her hands in mine, I make sure I have her undivided attention. “None of what has happened is your fault.”
“But the reporter the other day, and the one yesterday, they wanted to talk to me.”
“That doesn’t make any of it your fault.”
“Dad said you wouldn’t blame me.”
“He’s right, I don’t. But I understand why you might feel as though you’re to blame for everything. I’ve been there. In your shoes. When I was younger, my biological mother wasn’t very nice to me and I was convinced it was my fault. That because I wasn’t a good girl, she treated me the way she did.”
“That’s…were you bad?”
“No. But it didn’t stop me from thinking I should be better. It took a lot of years and a lot of therapy to break that mindset. Don’t fall into it. We can only control our own actions. If you had pushed me down the stairs or stabbed me with Zolpidem, then yes, it would definitely be your fault. But you didn’t. Two very unscrupulous men did.”
She studies me for a moment, checking to see if I’m speakingthe truth no doubt, before saying, “I won’t be upset if you decide not to let me stay with you when Dad has away games.”
Her words have me jolting. “Oh, Whitney.” Pulling her in, I wrap my arms around her. “This only makes me want to stay with you more.”
“Oh.”
She’s almost the same height as me, maybe a little taller, I can’t be sure because I’m not wearing shoes and she’s got a pair of sneakers on, but our cheeks are lined up and my jaw brushes her shoulder.
Holding her tight, I will her to believe my words. I’m not worried if she doesn’t. Like I said to Beckett. Actions speak louder than words. I’ll just show her what has happened in the last few days has no effect on the way I feel about her.
And I’m beginning to suspect I’m falling for Whitney Higgison as deeply as I think I’m falling for her father.
Beckett
I’m losing my mind. Not once in eighteen years has going without sex been an issue for me.
Not even as a teenager—when hormones are at their highest—was I consumed with the thought of sex the way I have been in the last twelve hours.
It’s all I’ve thought about.
