He watches me for a beat, his attention traveling to the dining room, where my laptop is open and my books and notes are spread out. Yet despite my “evidence,” it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I rub his shoulder. “But it’s better now that you’re here,” I say. And because I mean that so much, it helps me smile for real this time, helping us both to relax.
When his smile meets mine, I take his hand and lead him into the kitchen. “So, what magnificent feast do you have in store for me tonight?”
“Spaghetti. With my secret sauce.”
“Ketchup?” I offer.
He laughs and places the bag on the counter before stripping out of his jacket. “It’s actually made with roasted vegetables. It won’t take long once they’re done cooking.”
I stand behind him and circle his waist with my arms before kissing the spot behind his ears. “Mmm. Sounds awesome.”
“It’s not all wild sex and movie star looks, babe. I got mad skills you’ve never even dreamed of.”
“Really?” I nuzzle his neck. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“Yeah?” He turns his head to meet my face. “Well, what say we get these groceries unpacked and I’ll show you while the veggies cook.”
My body warms at the sizzle in his eyes. I release him, grinning, and step toward the paper bag perched on the counter. When I reach in, I expect to find only food. Instead my fingers latch on to the thick string of a small gift bag.
He shrugs when I glance back at him. “It’s no big deal. I saw it, and thought of you.”
“That’s so sweet, babe.” I push aside the green tissue paper, touched by the gesture. But when I pull out a pair of pink and navy argyle socks, my heart falls to the floor.
“I know you like those things, and I figured you can never have enough, right?”
His voice trails when he sees my face.
My father’s appearance had left me raw. And while Curran had managed to lift my spirits, these ridiculous socks and their significance cause me to lose my composure.
“Tess…what’s wrong?”
I back away when he reaches for me, batting my hands and trying to shake off my reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asks again. This time, he clasps my wrists and doesn’t let go.
“Christ,” he says, pulling me to him to cup my face. “What is it? Did something happen—did someone hurt you?”
“It-it’s nothing,” I insist, even though by now I’m crying.
A fierceness I’ve never seen spreads across his features, hardening them to steel. “Tell me what’s happening,” he says through clenched teeth.
My face meets his, that awful feeling of hate returning. “I don’t like the socks.”
It’s an asinine thing to say, and at first he seems confused, until he realizes I mean a lot more. “Why?”
I release a shaky breath. For all I didn’t want him to know, there’s no going back now. “Because I’m forced to wear them,” I admit.
“How are you forced to…Jesus,” he says, when he notices my worsening state. “Is this about your dad?”
I don’t want to answer, but manage to nod.
“He…dresses you? Picks out your clothes? Is that what you’re saying?”
Again, all I do is nod.
“Does he…” Curran drops his arms away, swallowing hard, his rage brewing close to the surface. “Does he put his hands on you?”
“No. Not like you think. What he does isn’t physical.”
“Then how does he force you, and why do you let him?”
My lips part. Curran’s harsh tone borders on accusing. “It’s not easy to explain.”
“Maybe not. But you need to tell me, and you need to tell me right now.”
There’s no getting out of this. And while I hate that I’ve kept so much from him, it doesn’t make it any easier to speak. I cross my arms and walk into the living room.
Curran follows, lowering himself beside me when I take a seat on the couch. He waits, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I only hope I can form them into words he’ll understand.
“I have nothing,” I tell him. “I have no claim to this apartment or anything in it. My education, rent, utilities, and everything else is paid for, but it comes at a price.”