Chapter 7 #2
You’d think I’d be used to my father’s cruel commentary, but his scathing words are usually delivered in a teasing tone or with a shoulder squeeze. That physical contact is probably the closest thing I’ve gotten to a hug from the man in the last decade.
But there is no context or nuance on the planet that could help soften the blow.
I’ve embarrassed him. Publicly.
And I may have deluded myself over the years thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could come to treat me with the same love and adoration fathers do in the heartwarming movies I like to watch.
And that it would somehow fill in the void in my chest caused by growing up without a mother, since she passed when I was a baby.
But at the end of the day, one thing I know for certain is that my father reveres his image and money above all else. And today, I have cost him both.
“Daisy, talk to me.” Luke wipes away tears before they have the chance to roll down my cheeks. “You’ve had a long day. Let me get you to bed. I’ll be here on the couch if you need anything.”
He tries to move me to stand, but his last words snap me out of my brain fog.
“What do you mean, couch?”
He looks momentarily confused. “I only have one bed.”
“Yes, I’m aware. I was here for the grand tour.” I wave around us.
He releases a deep breath while shaking his head, his face no longer looking panicked. “And that’s where you’ll sleep.” He raises a stern brow.
“Absolutely not. I am not taking your bed when I’ve already derailed your entire getaway.”
“I already told you I was already planning on being here. You’re not derailing anything.”
I stand and he quickly follows suit. I don’t know if I’m fired up because of those text messages from my father, or if I’m just itching for a feeling other than sadness. Either way, I’m ready for a showdown if it comes to that.
“You’re sleeping on that bed, Coach.” I point back toward it. “There’s no way around it. You can save the chivalrous spiel for another day. You’ve done enough rescuing as it is.” I fight the urge to stomp like a petulant child.
He runs a hand across his thick beard. “Hmm, is that so?”
I smile triumphantly and nod. “Yes. Besides, I’m smaller than you. Most of the human population is, I suppose, so that doesn’t say much, but it means I’ll fit much more comfortably on the couch than you, anyway.”
Looking down at the couch, I can already pick out the exact spot I’ll curl up on.
Suddenly, Luke’s knuckles lift my chin, guiding me until I’m facing him, his lips mere inches from mine.
“Daisy, there is a better chance of me calling your ex-fiancé myself and giving him the location of my cabin, than me allowing you to sleep on a goddamn couch when there is a perfectly suitable bed a few feet away.”
I’m shocked into silence, and it seems as though he’s in no rush to fill it.
Neither of us has moved an inch, and I can feel Luke’s deep breaths on my lips.
This is ridiculous. One of us should move away from the other right about now. But Luke only regards me as if he has all the time in the world.
What do you want?
I can almost hear him taunting me as his eyes stay on my lips a touch too long.
That should be enough to have me taking a step back.
To let him win this battle and move on with our night.
But lacking a backbone is what got me into this mess to begin with. And if there was a single person I could practice being assertive with, it would be Luke.
So with his words ringing in my ears, I finally break the silence.
“Luke.”
“Mm-hmm.” He hums slowly.
“I want you in that bed.”
His breathing halts, and I swear a million emotions flit through his eyes before they darken.
He releases a low groan before answering. “Thank you for telling me what you want, Daze. But my stance hasn’t changed.”
I can read between the lines, and I don’t hesitate to respond.
“Well, I guess it looks like I’ll be sleeping with you tonight.
” His eyes widen just like mine, and I take a step back, bumping into the coffee table.
His arm is instantly at my elbow to steady me if need be.
“I mean, we’ll be sleeping in the same bed.
Sleeping. Like the mature adults that we are.
Not that there will be mature adult things happening. Because that’s not what—”
His booming laugh breaks the tension and interrupts my pathetic word vomit, and I drop onto the couch, no longer having the energy to verbally spar. “Add that to the list of things you’re obligated to forget. Start a tab at this rate.”
His laughter eases as he settles back on the couch next to me. His eyes glimmer with delight as he picks up the remote and turns my way. “Never gonna happen.”
“Ugh, because you enjoy watching me squirm?”
“No, because it’s impossible for me not to memorize every single thing about you.”
He freezes midway to handing the remote to me. I think he just experienced his own version of word spillage for the first time. Ever.
He reverts back to the silence.
The place I notice he’s most comfortable in.
I take the remote out of his hand without looking at the TV.
“Daisy, I—”
“Luke.”
“Yeah?” he asks worriedly.
“I want to watch The Parent Trap.”
The lines on his forehead smooth over as he leans into the back of the couch. He smiles as he nods at the TV. “Guess it’s settled then.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”