He was starting at a slight disadvantage, not knowing why she was upset, not understanding the kind of family dynamics that went on with the Shaws, but he knew she was crying. Sad. So someone had hurt her.
The jolt of anger at that surprised him. The idea of someone hurting her pissed him off. A lot actually. He stomped up the porch stairs and into the kitchen, where Mel was getting herself a glass of water, her duffel bag placed neatly on the window seat next to the kitchen table.
“Was it Caleb?”
Her eyebrows pulled together and she slowly put the glass on the counter. “Was what Caleb?”
“Whatever you’re upset about. Caleb hurt you? Because I will kick his ass for you. I know you’re capable and all, but since he’s not my brother, I’d be less inclined to pull a punch. I’m pretty good at fighting on skates. I’m sure I could do it on my own two feet too.”
She blinked at him for a few humming seconds, something he couldn’t read in her expression, in her eyes. In her everything…and then it was gone. Blank. “It…” Pause. Fucking pause. “Has nothing to do with you, Dan.”
The instinct to walk away, to escape, to not push was so deep, so ingrained, he took a step back. Like every time Mom had asked him to leave her alone. He would have kept stepping back, backing away, take the unwanted offer and unwanted comfort and unwanted everything far, far away…
But someone had hurt her. “You’re hurt.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t have anything to do with you either.”
Yes, it does! The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but they weren’t just for her and he knew it. For some reason his brain, his memories, his emotions were all superimposing this with all the divorce stuff from his childhood.
Which was just fucking stupid. He’d learned. Learned to ignore what he felt, hide it with charm and smiles. To escape it with hockey. It had gotten him a very successful life.
Except the emotions were still there, and he still didn’t know how to help anyone or make things easier for anyone, and he still fucking wanted to. He wanted to make this easier on Mel, to comfort her, to give her something.
But she wanted nothing from him, except a place to stay, sex to forget, and a job to do. Nothing more.
“I’ll make dinner,” she said, crossing to the refrigerator. Dismissal. Just forget about it, Daniel. It’s over your head. Everything is fine. And he’d had to play dumb and pretend like he believed her.
For a second he considered that. Playing dumb and smiling and leaving her to it, forgetting he’d ever wanted to know. She didn’t trust him to help, fine. She probably had every right not to trust him with that. No one else in his life did. Why the hell would she?
Except…something about the way she refused to even tell him what happened, even a hint…it made him more angry than anything else. Why couldn’t people just trust him, or give him a damn chance? And, while he might fuck every damn thing up, she didn’t know that. When had he ever disappointed her?
Shouldn’t she at least trust him until his true colors came bleeding through? Maybe they wouldn’t ever bleed through. Maybe this place, Mel, was exactly what he needed. A fresh start. Different from the kid, from the teen who’d skated away from that kid. Different from the twenty-something phenom who’d poured his life into a young man’s game.
Maybe he should start demanding to know. Demanding to be trusted. Maybe it was time to man up.
“You know what, fuck dinner.”
Her head popped from behind the refrigerator door. “Huh?”
“I said fuck dinner. Because if you don’t want to tell me what happened, then you can’t stay here.” Which was probably all wrong. He was probably messing it up by making this ridiculous ultimatum.
But, hey, it was better than running away.
Chapter 19
Mel tried to make sense of the words hanging in the air, like some sort of line he was drawing between them. If you don’t want to tell me what happened, then you can’t stay here.
So, where was she supposed to go? What was she supposed to do if she couldn’t be here? Why…why did that hurt so much? What did it matter if he turned her away? She was more than used to that. Not getting what she’d asked for.
Except, what exactly had she asked for? A place to stay. Him to forget about her being upset. Those weren’t the things she really wanted. Why should she be angry at him for not giving them to her?
“It’s not asking much to know why you showed up at my door upset. It’s not… It should not be this much of a question. Why can’t you tell me? What is it? You think I can’t handle it?”
He was angry, his hands in fists, his eyes blazing, but underneath it was something more than anger. It was something she hated having put there, was so confused as to how she had. He was hurt. How had she hurt him?
“Handle isn’t the right word,” she said, doing her best to make her voice sound even. She didn’t know the right word. Didn’t know the answer to his question. Why couldn’t she tell him? Because she damn well didn’t want to.