Page 33 of Desiring an Angel

“No!” I hopped up and squeezed his forearm, needing a physical connection like all the previous ones that had helped ease my nervousness. “I didn’t…please don’t. I’m sure she…um just had a bad day at work or something? I’m sorry. She’s not normally this rude.”

At least, not to others.

“Just…wait here. Please. I’ll be right back.” My legs weakened with every shuffling step toward the kitchen and my sister.

“What the hell were you thinking inviting a man you don’t even know into my home?” Nora shot at me, hands firmly planted on her hips, her eyes as hard as Dad’s whenever I’d landed myself in trouble. “He could be some sick stalker—a rapist! And you’re sitting down to eat food I paid for—at my dining room table!”

I cringed at her rising tone, terrified Ashton would hear her ranting. “I’m sorry, Nora—”

“You’re always sorry because all you ever do is make inappropriate decisions that land you in trouble!”

Anger and embarrassment swept through me as her voice ratcheted up yet another notch.

“Why can’t you think before acting and opening your mouth?” Nora continued her rant as I struggled to sputter any words to defend myself. “You dive into whatever grabs your attention, regardless of the lack of water to slow your fall. I told you I won’t allow hookups in this house. No strange men. None. My God, Skylar. It’s bad enough you lost that job I got for you. You need to start using your brain!” She pressed her lips tight and shook her head.

My brain.

I wanted to snort and cry at the same time. She knew my mind didn’t work like hers and never would.

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” I whispered harshly, leaning toward her to keep our tones low, which she didn’t seem to care about. “Ashton is a sweet man—”

“It’s a front to sneak his way up under your dress,” she hissed.

“It is not! He’s one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known him all of what? Twenty-four hours?” she exclaimed with a sarcastic laugh, throwing her hands up into the air like she always did when she got fed up with my “ridiculousness.”

My chest ached, and the sting in my eyes promised tears. I shifted my stance, wanting to rush back to the dining room but to also slap my sister silly.

Ashton must have heard every word…our voices had gone way beyond conversational.

“Why couldn’t you just shake his hand and be kind for a change?” I whispered past the tightness closing off my throat.

Nora snorted. “Why be welcoming to someone I didn’t invite into my home, my safe place that I keep private for a reason?” She bit out her words like she wanted to physically hurt me with them.

“Because I live here too, and I asked him over to dinner! And you…you made me look like a fool!” I cried out, tears erupting to stream down my cheeks.

“Because you are a fool, Skylar!” Nora let loose with a shriek that forced my feet to shy away from her. “You have no idea how easy you have it! Never having to feel the pressure to do better even when you’ve tried your best—”

Nora cut off abruptly, lips tight for all of two seconds, but she opened her mouth before I could process her words. “I refuse to be responsible for your stupidity any longer,” she spat and pointed toward the front hall. “You need to leave. Go home to the farm.”

I reared back as though she’d slapped me. Over the years, she’d put me down plenty of times but not once had she called me stupid. And while I knew I drove her nuts sometimes, I made up for it by all the work I did around the house to keep her comfortable and well-fed.

Swallowing hard, I brushed my palms over my eyes. “You’re really kicking me out?”

“I just can’t deal with you anymore! You’re just…too much. Always have been and always will be. I’m done babysitting you, Skylar. Done. Clean up your mess, then take your skirt-chasing man friend and get the hell out of my house!” Nora spun and headed for the stairs.

I didn’t bother asking if she wanted any dinner. My time of servitude to my sister had come to an end, and if she thought I would make anything easier for her before leaving, she could go suck a duck egg and choke.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I forced my feet toward the dining room, my stomach threatening to heave up the small amount of food I’d eaten.

Ashton sat at the table, hands on his lap, his brow furrowed.

“Sorry,” I whispered and wrung my hands, tears hazing my vision, “but I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

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