The Best Kind of Trouble
Page 93

 Lauren Dane

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“I’m calling for a few reasons. I’m not even sure which is worse or better or which to go over first. But I’m sorry. We’ll start with that. I’m so sorry I said all that and reacted that way. I... Never mind, I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you tried to stay, and I pushed you away like a dick. I know it hurt you. I’m so sorry. Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” She heard the tears in her voice and was too upset to even be embarrassed. “I’m sorry the way I handled this thing with Bob hurt you. I trusted you to stand in front of you after you said all that other stuff so we could work it out.” She blew out a breath. “Even before that, I trusted you so much that I was raw with you. Trusted you so I could be open and free. To let you hold me down and order me to do all manner of things. And it was good because I didn’t always have to be in charge and you...you cherished that. Took that and didn’t make it a job, though you certainly saw it as a responsibility. You made me feel beautiful. You made me feel safe because I could be as dirty as I wanted to be with you, and you didn’t think I was a skank, or a whore, or that I was f**king anything up.”
Her tears came freely by that point, rolling down her cheeks as she looked out over the backyard.
“I spent years holding myself together, and then after we parted the first time, I made myself into an adult. With an education, which meant control over my life and my future. And a job that I loved. My house. My friends. I have all this money, and I can use it to help other people. What I had with you was a safe place. Like the library had been when I was a kid. Like school had been. You took that, and where you had been kind and respectful, you were dismissive and hurtful. I just... I tried to stay, and when you told me to leave and turned your back, I just couldn’t stay. I should have. I’m sorry, too.”
“I yelled at you about trust, and I’m the one who didn’t trust you enough to be careful with you.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “Can we work this through? I love you, Nat. I want to be with you. I want us to be together. Please give me a chance to prove myself.”
Before she could speak, he interrupted. “Wait. Before you answer, let me tell you the other reason I called. It’s your dad. I was so pissed at him for hurting you that after you left...I thought you’d stay over. I’m a shit for sending you out into the night the way I did. Anyway, I called him.”
She put a hand over her eyes. Part of her was undeniably touched that he’d do that. The other part was horrified because she knew whatever he had to say next wasn’t good.
“I called him and he was such a smarmy bastard. He doesn’t care about you at all. Or hell, anyone. And he hinted at me paying him off.”
“Oh, my God, please tell me you didn’t give him money!”
“Hell, no. But he gave another interview.”
She sat because her legs wouldn’t hold her up. Her face burned with shame. Damn Bob for making her feel this way. She’d sworn to never let him do this to her again and here she was. “Tell me.”
And he did. He read it aloud to her and she listened to her father tear down her life. After repeated references to his own piousness and his being clean, her father referred to Zoe and Jenny in hateful terms. He’d inferred that Tuesday was her lover out for her money. Said she’d been a wild drug addict in college and how she was a lazy, spoiled, trust-fund brat who played at being a librarian to make herself feel better.
“My God.” Her father had used the very things that made her life special, and he used that to cut at her. And he did it in front of people.
“I’m so sorry. I f**ked things up by calling him. I just hated that he hurt you. That he seemed to do it like breathing. I was stupid and I thought I could make him stop. Appeal to his sense of shame at least, if not his fear that someone was onto him. This is his revenge for that. What a self-righteous ass he is. That you’re as amazing as you are despite him is a testament to your strength.”
She wanted to ask if he believed any of the things her father had said. Swallowed it back because she would not give in to that particular shame. “How does this hurt you? Do I need to issue a response of some sort?”
“I was an ass**le for saying that. It doesn’t hurt me. I’m a freaking guitarist in a rock-and-roll band. I’m supposed to be wild. No one is going to care if your best friends are lesbians or if you were wild at college. It’s not an issue. Not to me. That marketing thing was something you did for me, and that you pushed past your comfort zone to help my career when I asked made me feel worthy. I appreciated that you did it, and I still do. But the Bob thing only matters because it hurt you.”
“I’m sorry, Paddy. Sorry he did this. Sorry about the fight.”
“I just wanted to feel worthy,” he said quietly and she had to swallow back emotion.
She truly understood why he’d been so upset in the hotel room. He was hers to protect, too, and she’d hurt him even if she hadn’t meant to. “Paddy, you are worthy. Not knowing about a button doesn’t mean I didn’t push it and hurt you. I’m sorry for that. Sorry to have caused you sadness.”
She let out a breath.
“I have to go tell them. I’m here at Zoe and Jenny’s place.”
“Okay. Are we...are we going to be all right?”
“I can’t lie, this whole thing has messed with my head, but I don’t want to let go. When you come back to Hood River, call me. You know my number. We’ll go from there.”