When it came to women, he was fucking hopeless.
***
Shay tried to focus on the hand of cards she'd been dealt, but it was difficult. She'd had too much wine. She was getting lightheaded. And her hands were itching to grab her phone and text an angry long opus to Tate about why he hadn't bothered to call for Christmas. She had known all along that whatever was between them wasn't going to work and now, he was just proving her right. Was he that angry at her that he couldn't bother to speak to her? Did he hate her father that much? Or maybe he just didn't give a shit about her at all?
Apparently, the answer to all of those questions was yes.
“You alright, brother?” Gina asked as Sam stood for the third time during their hour-long game of spades.
“Just heading to the bathroom,” he said, smiling brightly as he turned the corner into the hallway and went out of sight.
“What is that man drinking?” Thalia asked, her eye brows raising practically to her hairline.
“Nothing from what I've seen,” Gina said, leaning back on the couch and dropping her head to Thalia's shoulder.
“What's he doing in the bathroom is the better question,” Shay said, under her breath. “I'm tired of playing.”
“I've been tired of playing for the last hour,” Gina said.
“I was having fun,” Thalia offered. Shay snorted out a laugh at Thalia because at least she was still trying. The holiday had been... interesting to say the least, but it was after midnight. Christmas was officially over. Shay wanted to go back into her room and shut the door and press her face into her pillow and scream her head off. Then she would probably stay up all night staring at the phone and debating whether or not to text Tate. In between bouts of indecision, she would then try to figure out what to do about her father.
She had no idea what Sam's plans were. He'd stuck around because she asked him to, but Shay honestly had no idea if that was a good thing or not. She wasn't sure if he was going to stay in New York. She didn't even know where he'd been living for the past six years or if he had a new wife or girlfriend or friends or anything. She knew nothing about his life. For a man who talked a lot, he'd barely said anything of any substance the whole day.
“So?” she asked, looking at her aunt.
“So what?” Gina responded, looking tired.
“Are you going to ask him to stay the night?”
“Well first he has to get out of the damn bathroom,” Gina said, rubbing her hand across her eyes. Shay pushed herself up off the floor, cringing as her muscles protested the quick movement.
“I'll make sure he didn't fall in,” she said, tossing her cards on the coffee table. She rolled her shoulders, feeling loose but tense at the same time. She'd had a lot of wine, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. It was making her twitchy. She turned the corner into the hallway and walked down toward the bathroom at the end. The door was closed, so she leaned in, getting her ear close. The door was old and thick wood and she didn't know exactly what she was listening for, but she strained to hear anyway. After a moment of quiet, she raised her hand ready to knock.
Then she heard a noise in her bedroom, a creaking like the wood floor was shifting, and then a rustling. The door was open a crack and her bedroom light was on, even though she was pretty sure it'd been off the last time she'd checked. Biting hard on the insides of her cheeks, she pushed the door open, swinging it wide.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, her mouth moving before her brain could catch up to what she was seeing. Her father was on all fours beside her bed, lifting up the mattress and inspecting the space between the mattress and the box spring. The bedside table drawer was open and her pillows were thrown about. It looked like he'd been busy. He froze, then dropped the mattress back down. “Find what you're looking for?” she said, her face going numb like she'd just been slapped in the face. She didn't know why she was surprised, she really didn't. She didn't know why she thought for once things were actually going to be different. A rush of emotion hit her and she honestly had no idea how she felt, finding him on the floor looking so pathetic.
“Oh Sugar,” he said lightly, shaking his head as he pushed himself slowly to standing. Seeing him struggle to get up reminded her just how hold he'd gotten. He looked so much smaller than she remembered. “I just dropped my cigarette under the bed. I was trying to get to it,” he bullshitted.
“You're lying,” she said. “You're so full of shit.”
“Watch your language,” he said, lowering his voice.
“No! I fucking won't!” She stepped further into the room and glanced around. The drawers on her dresser looked like they hadn't been touched, but she knew he wouldn't leave a mess behind him. He would clean it up and make it look exactly like he'd never been there. Her closet door was open too. But he still hadn't found the money. “I can't believe you.”
“Where is it?” he asked, finally dropping all pretense.
“I can't believe that this whole time, this whole holiday, you've been thinking about that money,” she said, her voice shaking even though she tried to keep it steady. “I haven't seen you in years! And this is all you care about!” she screamed, not able to keep control of her emotion anymore. All the hurt and anger was suddenly bursting out of her.
“I told you I needed it. Now, I gave your auntie that money for you to hold, but it's still mine. I earned that money,” he said, so calm it was maddening. He was doing the same shit he used to do with her mother, pretending that he was the only sane one in the room. Acting like his shitty intentions made perfect sense and that anyone who didn't see that was the one with the problem. “I earned that money and it's mine,” he repeated.
“It's my money. You gave it to me,” Shay said.
“You're going to let this money come between you and your father?” he said. “I came back here because I thought we could be a family again.”
“No, you came back here because you wanted something from me,” she said. “Me giving up six years of my life wasn't enough.”
“That was your choice, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “I hated seeing that happen. You know how much that hurt me?”
“How much it hurt you?!” Shay could feel her eyes going so wide that they were practically bulging out of her head. She threw up her hands and turned and left the room. The bedroom was small to begin with but with her father in there, it felt like the walls were closing in on her. Her brain felt like it was about to explode. She pressed her hand to her head as she hurried back to the living room. She could hear him behind her, following her.
“What's going on?” Gina asked as soon as she was within eyesight. “What did he do?”
“I don't even know,” Shay said, her eyes scanning the room for her phone. She didn't even know why she wanted it, but she did it. “I can't fucking deal with him.”
“Sugar, why don't you tell her? Tell your aunt what you're doing,” Sam said. She could hear the anger and desperation under his voice, even as he tried to keep his cool. She knew he was going to break eventually and she wanted to see it. She wanted to see his true colors so it wouldn't be so hard to do what she knew she had to.
“I didn't even ask for that money!” Shay screamed, not caring that it was late and the whole damn neighborhood could probably hear her. “It's such a fucking burden that you gave me!”
“Then there's no problem,” Sam said with a light shrug.
“The money, Sam?” Gina said, finally catching up to what was going on. “Is that what this is about?”
“The money's not here,” Shay said, lying through her teeth. “My friend has it. You know, the one you met the other day?”
“That piece of shit cop? The white piece of shit cop?!” Sam growled, the ugliness of his anger finally showing. “You give that pig my money?”
“Yeah, I did,” she said, refusing to be intimidated. “He said he would take care of it for me because I didn't want your di
rty money around here.”
“Now who's full of shit, baby girl?” he asked, his face relaxing and his cool tone coming back. “You've always been a bad liar, Sugar. That's why they put you away. Because you can't lie for shit.”
“No, they put me away because of you!” She balled her hands up into fists, for once understanding what Tate had said in the locker room. Sometimes it felt good for him to get hit; well right about then, it would feel damn good for her to hit someone. But she was better than that. She was better than her father and she wasn't going to stoop to his level, no matter how much she hated that smug look on his face, like he knew everything even though he really knew absolutely nothing. “Get out,” she said. “I want you to go and never come back.”
“Sugar!” Gina said, surprising Shay. Shay looked at her aunt sharply, wanting them all to know she was serious.
“I mean it. I hate him,” she said, even though it hurt her to see how much pain her aunt was in. Her aunt loved Sam, deep down. They all did. She didn't want to let him go, either. But Shay didn't care. She would be strong for the both of them.
“You don't hate me,” Sam said. “You could never hate your father.” Shay didn't respond, just kept still. She tried to school her face, thinking of Tate and how he kept his emotions buried deep. She wasn't going to let her father keep using her feelings for him against her. That had gone on long enough. So she didn't budge her eyes from her aunt. She refused to look at her father. She couldn't stand the sight of his face. She didn't know what she would do if she looked at him. She might apologize. She might buckle and give him the money. But she was stronger than that. In the past, he'd made her weak, but she wasn't going to hop on the carousel with him anymore.
She was done.
“Sam, go,” Gina said, her face hardening as if she could feel Shay's resolve.
“Come on, sister,” Sam said. “It was a good holiday, wasn't it?”
“He doesn't give a shit about us,” Shay blurted out, because she knew her father would never admit the truth. “He only came here for the money.”
“No, that's not true,” Sam said, his voice slightly pleading, like he could see the blood in the water. Shay's eyesight blurred and she blinked quickly, trying to clear her eyes. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry anymore over Sam, that was for damn sure.
“Why did you have to to ruin it?” Gina asked softly.
“Sister, it's not like that,” he said, his voice dropping to match hers. “It was always me and you against the world, wasn't it?”
“I want him to leave now,” Shay said, not caring whether he was regretting his actions or if he was just manipulating Gina for the millionth time. It didn't matter. “He leaves or I do.”
“You gonna call your white cop to haul me out of here?” Sam asked. “You gonna snitch on your own father?” Shay couldn't stop herself from looking at him then, because she had never snitched in her life, and he knew it. She'd ruined her life because she wasn't a snitch. But he didn't give a shit. She searched his face for any hint that he regretted anything that had happened, any of the shit that he'd caused and cultivated, but found none.
“Get out,” Shay said. “I mean it.”
“Go,” Gina echoed.
“Okay, okay,” Sam said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I can see you all are out your minds tonight.” He stepped between them, leaving the heavy scent of his cologne in his wake. Shay closed her eyes as she breathed it in, wondering if it was the last time she would ever smell it. It was sad and it was awful, but it was necessary. She wasn't going to back down. He'd hurt her for the last time. “I'll call you tomorrow, sister,” he said, grabbing his hat from the hook by the front door and plopping it on his head. “Maybe you'll be calmer then.” He took his time putting on his coat, buttoning each button like he had all the time in the world. “Miss Thalia, it was nice to meet you,” he said and Thalia smiled awkwardly and nodded from her silent position on the couch. Shay suddenly felt slightly sorry for Thalia, having been dragged into their family shit. But she would've found out sooner or later.
Sam opened the door and glanced between Gina and Shay. Shay took his withering glare without looking away. She'd spent her whole life trying not to disappoint him and he knew just how to make her feel like a pile of dirt on the floor. But she wasn't going to let him. She knew she was right this time, and he was full of it. She knew it without hesitation. His power over her was broken. So she held his gaze until he stepped out the door and, without a word, shut it lightly behind him.
Chapter Nineteen
Tate sat back in his seat and let the car idle.
He told himself he wasn't going to sit around outside of the salon until she got off work, but he still did it. He hadn't heard from her in days. Christmas had come and gone. He had no idea what was going on with her and it was driving him up the wall. He couldn't stand the thought that she was letting Sam Spears back into her life without a fight. The guy was fucking trash and she was treating him like he was a king. The thought pissed Tate off to no end. Sam was Shay's father, but beyond that, Tate didn't give a shit about him. Tate wished he would go back to wherever the hell he came from and leave Shay in peace.
Tate sighed and scrubbed his hands over is face, trying to ignore the pain in his chest when he thought about Shay. She'd chosen her father over him and it was something he just had to deal with. But that didn't mean he was okay with it. Hell no, he wasn't. He missed her, but that wasn't the only problem. He had a bad feeling that he couldn't shake. She was twenty-five, a grown woman, but he knew for a fact her father held some strange hold on her. He knew what it was like. Ghostly memories of his biological mother still hung around in the corners of his brain. No matter what he did, no matter how much work he did or exercise, no matter if he was happy or unhappy, he couldn't shake her. She was always with him. He assumed Sam Spears played the same role for Shay.
But it would be a lie if Tate pretended he didn't wish Shay would be stronger than the old memories. He wanted her to love herself more than anyone else. He wanted her to go to culinary school and smile and laugh and be happy for the rest of her life. Sam Spears would only ruin that for her, of that Tate was certain. People like him were a virus, a cancer, killing every bit of good intentions with their very presence. Tate didn't even know the man, but he knew that much was true.
He couldn't stand the thought of the cancer spreading into Shay's life.
As he sat alone in the dark, he thought about a million things. He replayed the stupid argument they'd had over and over. Then he started thinking about the day she'd cooked him soup and all the ways she'd fucked him and the silly texts she sent him and the sexy pictures and it all suddenly seemed like he was going to go crazy without her. He hadn't realized his apartment was so quiet until she'd stopped coming over. Some nights, it was so maddeningly quiet, he was actually considering getting a TV. He didn't want to go back there. He'd been to the gym every night that week. His muscles were sore, but that wasn't the only reason his body was aching.
The lights in the salon went off and he pulled his keys from the ignition even as he told himself he wasn't going to get out of the car. He watched a dark figure leave the front door and he knew it was her immediately. He knew the way she moved. When she reached up to try to reach the metal security gate for the front of the shop, he got out of the car without thinking. He glanced down the street for cars and then crossed, heading straight for her. He reached above her and grabbed the rim of the gate. She gasped and looked up at him as he pulled it down without a word, the loud rattle of the metal gate echoing in the cold night air. She silently crouched down and latched the padlock and then stood, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder.
“You scared me,” she said, her voice sounding oddly breathless. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest as the urge to pull her close and bury his face in her hair reared up in him. “What are you doing here?”
“You know what I'm doing here,” he said.
“N
o, I don't,” she said.
“Let me drive you home,” he said.
“I can walk.” She pulled up her furry hood to cover her head and he realized she had a new coat. He wondered if it was a Christmas present.
“I like this,” he said, raising his hand to run his palm lightly over the fur trim.
“It's warm,” she said, shifting her hips and moving away from his touch. “Gina gave it to me.”
“I figured.” He clicked his tongue, annoyed at the stupid shit they were talking about. Out of all the things to say, they were acting like they barely knew each other. They were acting like two people who had never been naked together or never stayed up all night long together or never had a conversation beyond idle chit-chat together.
“What do you want, Tate?” she asked, and he took a minute to think about how he wanted to answer that. There was so much he wanted from her, but he couldn't put all of that into words. He didn't even know where to begin.
“Let me drive you home,” he repeated.
“No.”
“Please,” he said, hoping that the magic word would still work on her. If it still worked, he would still have a chance. If it worked, then everything was maybe going to be okay between them.
“I had a shitty day,” she said, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I'm going to walk home so I can think.”
“Is that a polite way of telling me to fuck off?” he said, even though his throat was getting tight and he could feel anger welling up. He missed her so goddamn much and she didn't seem to give a shit whether she ever saw him again or not. He supposed he should have known when she didn't text or call on Christmas. The second her father had shown up, she'd made her choice.
“I just want to walk home,” she said, annoyingly calm.
“I'll walk you,” he said, not willing to let her go just yet.
“You haven't talked to me in three days and now you want to talk?” she said. “Fine. Let's talk. How was your Christmas?”
Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) Page 31
