11. Nate #3
“No.” The strength of my voice made him pause. “I’m done listening to your bullshit. I’ll tell you this only once. If you push that young man to follow your dream, you’ll do more damage than he could ever do to himself. He has the right to choose his career as much as you and I did.”
“We went through hell to get to where we are,” Dana said. If he weren’t seething, I would have thought he was reminiscing. “And he had it served on a silver fucking platter. Is that why you let him go? Why you didn’t try to stop him? Because he had a shortcut, unlike you.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was luring me into a fight that could end badly for all three of us.
I didn’t want to punch my lover’s father, not after giving Carter my heart and pledging to be his for as long as he wanted me.
Not after walking barefoot over the sharp rocks that formed the path that had brought us together.
“Carter’s got talent. I’ll give you that.
But if he doesn’t want it, nothing you say will change his mind. ”
“My money will,” Dana said. “If I don’t find him tonight, I’ll cut him off. We’ll see how long he’ll last before he comes to me with his tail between his legs.”
I wouldn’t tell him that Carter would be just fine without his money.
“Where did he go?” Dana demanded. “Where does he live now?”
I shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”
“Don’t lie to me, Partridge,” he snapped louder.
“Carter listened to me until you started coaching him. It’s so like you to whisper into his ear and tell him he can do whatever he sets his mind to.
It’s like you don’t even know what kind of world you live in.
Silly little dreamers die in drug dens every day. ”
“You need to leave, Dana,” I said coolly.
The man shook his head and walked around, nearing the hallway.
His head turned left and right, and he stopped abruptly at the arch between the kitchen and living room.
“What’s that?” he asked, urgency in his voice as if an Eldritch monster had appeared in my apartment. “What the fuck is that, Partridge?”
“What?” But as I asked, I remembered.
Dana rushed into the living room and returned even faster. “This is his guitar, you son of a bitch.”
I fought against my eyes closing in surrender. My heart sank so low that my stomach throbbed with each heartbeat. Fuck. “Dana…”
“Don’t you fucking say a word to me,” Dana yelled. “Is he here? Does he live with you now? What the fuck is going on, Partridge?”
“Calm down,” I said firmly, but Dana was off the rails. “Calm the fuck down, or I’ll get the security to drag your ass out.”
Dana held the guitar by its neck as he stormed toward me. He stopped two feet away. “You can try,” he said venomously, “but they won’t get here in time. Truth, Partridge. I want the truth. Now.”
“Truth?” I asked. “The truth is that you’re bullying your son, and you’re going to break him. And I won’t fucking let you. Not on my watch, Dana.”
His eyes widened as he looked from me to the guitar. Anger faded as something far worse came over his face. Horror. The slow realization opened the doors to blind rage that contorted his face. “You’re sleeping with him,” he said, almost breathless.
I should have acted offended, put up a fight, but the accusation seemed so impossibly undeniable that I only pressed my lips tighter.
It was as good as a confirmation. A moment too late, I knew that for a fact.
“I’m going to kill you!” Dana swung the guitar before I could lift my arms or leap away. The hollow instrument hit the side of my right arm, and my elbow bent to take the brunt of it. Wood splintered, and a horrible crashing sound was mixed with the strings that briefly vibrated on impact.
Before I knew it, I was hurtling to my left, arms reaching to grab onto something. I wasn’t even aware of the pain in my elbow as I grabbed the back of a chair by the kitchen island. It tipped under my weight, only complicating my fall as I tangled my arm around it.
Tossing the guitar’s neck aside, Dana leaped after me, his weight crashing against my body as a fist met my cheekbone.
No, I thought as I realized there was a third voice in the cacophony of misery in the room. Between my grunts and Dana’s curses, Carter’s pleading voice cut through the air as he grabbed his father’s arm. “Stop, Dad. Stop! Don’t hurt him.”
Dana’s broad chest heaved with every breath as he looked furiously from me to his son.
Carter had never looked more beautiful. The defiant way he held his chin high as if he could stand up to Dana, the mournful look in his eyes, the knowledge that everything we’d had was gone… I hated how pretty he was when sadness dominated his face.
He had walked out of the bedroom to stop his father. And my heart discovered new depths to sink into.
If there had been any way to use Dana’s overreaction and anger against him, to deny and lie and save Carter from this, it was all gone now. He offered himself to Dana in order to protect me.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He was the beautiful one, the vulnerable one, the one in need of a protector. And I had failed him.