Chapter 16 Martin #2
“So I got a list of everyone who’d been there that night, narrowed it down based on who was close to her age,” he goes on. “And I found him. He works at a dive bar—can you believe that, she’d go on a date with a lowlife like him?”
He shakes his head, as though he can barely wrap his head around it himself.
“She was only trying to make me jealous,” he continues. “So I went to sort the guy out. Make sure he knew that I wasn’t going to stand for him making moves on my girl. I went to the bar, but he was there with some of his friends, and…”
He gestures to himself. “They jumped me. Said he didn’t know anything about the girl, but I know he was lying.”
“How do you know?” I ask as I pour myself a cup of water, lifting it to my lips in the hopes of disguising the incredulity on my face.
“Why the hell else would she have been out with someone like that?” he retorts, voice rising. He’s used to getting what he wants by causing trouble, but this, the hospital, is more my domain than his, and he would do well to remember it.
“Have you considered that it might not just be a break for her?” I point out. “That it could be over, as far as she’s concerned?”
His face darkens, mouth twisting. “She would never do that to me,” he mutters. “She’s not that kind of girl. She’s good. Decent. Kind…” He trails off, shaking his head.
“I should never have let her go the first time,” he adds. “And I’m not going to let some sleazy lowlife fucker take her from me. I can give her so much more than he ever could, I—”
He stops himself at last as he looks back at me. He must be able to tell what an utter load of bullshit I think this is, because he narrows his eyes at me at once.
“Don’t come at me with a lecture,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t know a thing about how to keep a relationship together. How long has it been since you and Mom divorced again?”
I don’t answer. Getting pulled into this argument with him is only going to make things worse, and I have no intention of letting him get under my skin.
Or mentioning the fact that he is the reason that his mother and I weren’t able to make things work.
The guilt of knowing that I might have been responsible for how he turned out, for the man who sits before me right now, belligerent and refusing to see things from any other point of view.
“You should give her some space,” I tell him, trying to frame it in whatever way will keep this girl from having to deal with the full extent of his wrath.
His lip curls up dismissively, and his voice darkens. “I’ve given her enough space.”
All at once, my chest compresses at the thought of what this girl must be going through.
Who even knows if she was out on a date with that man he tried to attack—and even if she was, what business is it of his?
He can’t seem to get it through his skull that he isn’t entitled to anyone and anything that he wants, and the fact that he has managed to get away with everything so far is hardly going to dissuade him of the fact.
“What’s her name?”
He snorts. “Oh, yeah, like I’d tell you,” he retorts. “What are you going to do, get in touch with her, tell her to dump me for her own good?”
“Why do you think that’s what I—”
“Because I know what you think of me, Dad,” he snaps, rising to his feet. “I know you think I’m a waste of fucking space.”
“I never said anything like that—”
“You didn’t have to,” he replies as he moves toward me. I am distinctly aware of how much bigger he is than me. I might be his father, but this is still a furious man, a man willing to do whatever he can to intimidate and scare me.
I stand my ground. I’ve dealt with worse than him, even if he would never guess it.
“You look at me like I don’t deserve anything,” he growls, shoving his face close to mine.
“But you know what? I know exactly what I deserve. And this girl—she’s part of that.
I don’t give a fuck what you have to say.
Or anyone, for that matter. She’s going to be mine.
She’s going to be back at my side, where she belongs, and you’re all going to see how fucking wrong you were. ”
There’s a crazed look in his eyes, and for a moment, I wonder if I should check him for a concussion.
But I can tell any attempt to get him to stay here longer is going to end with another fight, either with me or the guard on the other side of that door, and that’s the last thing I need right now.
He knocks into me with his shoulder and pushes open the door, stalking out past the security guard without a look back in my direction.
The guard peers around the doorframe, his brow furrowed as he looks at me.
“Are you okay—”
“I’m fine,” I reply, a little faster than I need to.
I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing my hand over my face.
I need to call Martha and tell her she has nothing to worry about, at least not in terms of his injuries, but I don’t know if I have it in me to obscure the truth about this woman that he’s currently obsessed with.
Do I call the cops, tell them he’s out there and willing to cause God knows what trouble to win her back? Shit, I don’t even know her name, what good would it do?
But doing nothing doesn’t feel right. The look in his eyes, I’ve seen it before, that expression he takes on when he’s lost all grip on control and is willing to do anything to get what he wants. That woman, whether she knows it or not, is in danger.
Though I’d guess, if they had any kind of real relationship, she already knows that. He doesn’t do a good job of keeping his true tendencies under wraps for long, and the best I can hope for is that she has the support system around her to keep her safe if he tries anything again.
“Let me just clean up in here,” I tell the guard, gesturing around, and he closes the door, leaving me to my thoughts for a moment.
I splash some cold water on to my face, grounding myself as best I can.
Talk about whiplash. One minute, I’m waking up in Lila’s apartment with the twins, watching her feed them breakfast as she plans another day together, and the next, I’m down here tending to my son after he got into a brawl with God knows how many guys because he thought one of them might have been looking at his woman.
I feel like I’m being ripped in two different directions, two sides of my life that can’t come together brushing way too close for my liking.
And I don’t know how much longer I can keep them away from each other.
Or what will happen when they finally collide.