Chapter 14 Don’t Push Me #2
The fuck did she mean by that? Why the hell was she explaining anything to him when he was sitting across from them with a whole family at this point.
“It either is or it ain’t, Pri.” Heavy’s jaw clenched.
“Well, we aren’t together anymore,” she said, holding her head up. “You obviously moved on.”
“Is that what this was? Some get back?” he asked, his voice betraying him.
“Mmm, this is about to get good?” Henna chimed in.
“Henna!” Petal hissed.
Giselle didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. It felt intrusive, like she shouldn’t be here to witness it. It was similar to the first time she saw Heavy and Prischa together. There was an obvious history and bond there that she could never compete with.
“Look, Heav, the shit happened. One night. That’s it,” Viggo broke down as he leaned toward his cousin.
Leaning back in his chair, Heavy rubbed his face and shoved his plate aside. It was taking everything not to snatch Viggo up across the table for various reasons.
“One night that neither of you was going to mention, right?” His gaze gamboled from Prischa back to Viggo. Anger was evident in the heat radiating off his body.
Giselle sat quietly, setting her fork against her plate since her appetite had disappeared.
Her throat tightened, and she held her own feelings inside as Heavy exposed his.
She hadn’t expected him to react so raw to this news, considering he ended things with Prischa.
Was he jealous? Did he still want her? Was he only with her because of the twins?
These thoughts flooded her mind, drowning her in them.
“I didn’t know it mattered to you who I fucked with,” Prischa quipped. “Considering your situation.” Her eyes darted to Giselle, who was now looking in her lap.
Petal gasped softly. “Oh, dear.”
Heavy finally looked at Giselle. Guilt flickered behind his eyes, but the tension still coiled in him.
This shit was not cool. She didn’t miss the way his eyes cut at Prischa when he pushed his chair away from the table and stood.
Something unresolved still hung in the air between them, and that, more than anything, was what hurt.
When dinner wrapped, Petal and Henna cleared the table and Giselle excused herself to the bathroom.
She purposely held herself in there, so she didn’t have to face Heavy or his family.
Part of her was embarrassed, while another side of her was angry and confused.
When she finally emerged, she bumped right into Toussaint as he was passing by.
“You okay?” he asked, concern etched in his face.
“Yeah.” Giselle looked down at her dress.
“I wouldn’t read too much into that,” Toussaint offered. “Prischa and Heavy have a history. He’s only looking out for her because Viggo can be a bit much.”
“Well, seems a little more than that. I can’t exactly be mad at it, though, right? Before I got here, the two of them were an item.”
“Maybe, but… I can tell how my son is with you, Giselle.” Toussaint smiled. “He’s never felt like this before. You are the woman he wants to be with and build with.”
“I appreciate you saying that, Toussaint, but I would rather hear it from Heavy.”
“I understand.” He nodded.
Giselle moved toward the living room. It was dark outside, and now she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into her bed.
Petal offered them food to go, which she gladly accepted, and the twins skipped ahead of her and Heavy outside to his truck.
The night air was crisp, cool, and painfully quiet aside from the laughter of her children racing down the sidewalk.
Crickets chirped in the brush, but all Giselle heard was the echo of Heavy’s voice at the table: You fucking with her.
She knew what she heard, and she knew how he said it, too fast and too defensive.
It was like a crack he was trying to plaster over, but everyone saw through it.
Walking beside her, head low, he couldn’t stop thinking about Prischa and Viggo. There was a whole lot he could say, but he didn’t want to start some shit in front of the kids, so he chose to let it go. For now.
Once the twins were buckled in, he and Giselle climbed into the front seats. She didn’t utter a word as she yanked her seatbelt across her chest.
Sighing, he swiped his beard and started his truck. “Look, about what happened back there—”
“It’s fine,” she quickly replied, staring straight ahead.
“Giselle—”
“Heavy… you don’t owe me anything,” she said, her voice tight and brittle. “You and Prischa have history. That’s real… and I get that.”
Turning to her, he extended his arm across the seat to touch her, but she rejected him. Swiveling her head in his direction, tears swelled in her eyes. He held his hand up.
“History don’t matter, princess. You do.”
She flinched at the intensity in his voice, but somehow, she didn’t believe him. Not after what she saw and heard tonight. Or maybe it was an excuse for her to run from this too.
“You were upset,” she whispered. “More upset than you want to admit.”
Heavy’s jaw worked, and he looked away. That was her answer.
“Can you just take us home?”
He frowned. “Home? I had something I wanted to show you.”
“They’ll be sleep on the drive, and I need some space right now to breathe.”
The fact that she wouldn’t allow him to touch her made his chest seize. He wasn’t good with feelings, but it felt like he was losing something, and he didn’t like that. She was pulling away.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Heavy, please just take us home,” she requested, voice cracking as she turned away from him and looked out her window.
Staring at her, heart pounding, a sinking weight that he didn’t have words for hung from his neck.
Suddenly, it was like she was an outsider again.
The girl from the wrong world. An intruder.
When they pulled up to her house, she got out and unloaded a sleeping Harlee while he did the same with Heir.
Giselle let them into the house and carried her daughter into her bedroom where she placed her in her bed and took her shoes off.
Heavy removed Heir’s shoes and pulled the covers over him as well.
She left the room before he could even say anything and padded down the hall to the front entry to let him out.
“I get it. You’re entitled to how you feel, but I’m not staying away from them.”
“I don’t expect you to.” She looked at the ground with her hand against the doorknob. “Goodnight.” Her tone was even, glacial.
All he could do was walk away, knowing he had caused this, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Giselle closed and locked the door behind him, then turned and pressed her back against it.
She let go of a shaky breath and decided to shower before heading to bed for the night.
She had to work in the morning and wanted to rinse this day off.
“Well, you two know how to keep things interesting around here, don’t ya?” Horace kidded, helping Petal wash dishes at the sink.
It was something he’d done the entire time they had been married.
Viggo always thought they had some stimulating conversations busting suds because they both seemed to be in a good mood when they skipped off after the kitchen was clean.
He glanced at Prischa across the island in the kitchen and shoved the last forkful of apple pie into his mouth before walking the dish over to the sink.
“It could have gone worse.” Prischa finally broke the silence.
“How?” Viggo lifted a brow.
“I don’t know. Fire? A tornado?” She huffed with a weak laugh.
Viggo wasn’t amused. He saw the look behind his cousin’s eyes.
“Heavy’s pissed.”
“He’ll get over it,” Horace assured them from the sink.
“Will you?” Viggo checked with Prischa.
“I can’t control how he reacts to anything. It was just one night… Viggo. And you left in the middle of the night without a word.”
“Something came up—”
“You could have said something!” Prischa snapped. “Instead, you left me hanging like I was just some random ass bitch.”
Viggo blinked, stunned. He hadn’t expected that reaction from her. In all honesty, he did have some business to handle, but he planned to get back with her. He rounded the counter and stopped a space away from her.
“I don’t regret it.” His voice was low and frustrated when he spoke next. “A nigga was confused, and I didn’t want to make shit worse with Heavy. I already know that situation is complicated.”
“If you haven’t noticed, everything is worse now.” Prischa let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. What are we even doing?”
Swallowing, he inched closer.
“I don’t know, Pri. I swear to God, but for the first time, a nigga trying to find out.”
Her breath hitched, and for the first time today, she didn’t avoid his keen coffee brown eyes.
“Lord have mercy.” Petal sighed and shook her head. “You two are already toxic as hell. Is this what we have to look forward to?”
“I can’t even think about this right now. You realize how this makes me look?” Prischa took in the faces around the room.
“Like a homie-hopper,” Horace acknowledged over his shoulder.
“Oh, my God.” Prischa buried her face in her hands. “I need to go. I can’t be here right now.”
“Pri, you’ve been walking through this house since you were thirteen years old.
You are family regardless of what happens with you and Heavy.
Now, I get that you had this fantasy in your head …
but that was never realistic.” Petal grabbed a towel off the counter to dry her hands.
“Trust me when I tell you, what’s for you is only for you.
You can’t go around chasing these men or expecting anything of them that they never offered.
Now, I believe he cares for you deeply and wants the best for you, but that is not him.
Lord help us all if it’s Viggo.” She looked her youngest grandson up and down.
“Why am I always the nigga labeled as a fuck up?” he questioned.