Page 124 of Trusting You
“I’m fine,” I assure. “I’ve experienced worse.”
“You could’ve died,” she says, staring hard at my chest. “Just like that, you could’ve been snuffed out, because you’re not taking care of yourself. And you almost took Lily with you.”
My body goes cold. “I’m well aware of that.”
“Are you?” Her gaze skates to mine, all that melted butter going hard as stained glass. “Because the doctors tell me it was because you weren’t exercising properly after surgery, weren’t doing much, really, other than pretending to be fine, all the while your blood was working against you.”
“I didn’t know,” I say honestly. “I had no idea the kind of danger I was bringing on. When you and Lily came into my life, that was all I could think about. I wasn’t concerned with my physical therapy, my fucking knee—”
“Clearly,” she says. “All those times you carried her when you shouldn’t, you lifted the stroller when you shouldn’t—”
“What did you expect me to do?” My breaths are going tight, but I’m ignoring it. The pain in my chest is nothing compared to the way Carter’s looking at me. “Not hold my daughter for the first time? Not learn to love her and play with her?”
“Of course not. Don’t frame it like I’m telling you to stay away from Lily.”
The stone of Carter’s expression, the sheer anger radiating from her gaze, is nothing I’ve ever endured before. Not when she first met me and despised me on sight. Not when she considered me nothing but a turkey baster. Not even when she knew she’d have to give Lily up to me.
“You could’ve been honest,” she continues. “And let me know your limitations. We could have worked with it, made sure you were healthy while you got to know your daughter. Because, Locke, while you’re so busy living in the present determined to ignore any sort of flaw, I’m worried about Lily’s future. And she needs you in it.”
My teeth grind, and I hate how her words sting. “I didn’t pretend to be macho just to look good. I wanted to be a father to Lily and not show any weakness for her—”
“She’s a baby,” Carter practically spits. “She can't understand you’re weak.”
“But she will,” I cut in.
“What the—? Get off your fucking throne, Locke.”
“What throne? I’m an athlete. I’m supposed to fight off pain—”
“Right, because all the time you spent thinning your blood with alcohol, you were thinking of being the best athlete you could be—”
“Oh, come on—”
“Ironically, that’s what saved you, back then. But the instant you stopped drinking, you upped your risk of serious complications. And you didn’t give a damn.”
“Don’t pretend you know anything about what I went through.”
“You have a daughter. You’re responsible for someone other than yourself, and here I am, hoping that’s enough to get you to stop being Mister Macho Man—”
“And what kind of dad am I, huh? One who wasn’t around for her birth, a guy who had no clue about Lily until she was plopped into my life, in a way where she could have no opinion on the matter. She was obviously better off with you. I didn’t start out so good with her, Carter. Don’t blame me for wanting to be better and stronger for my daughter.”
“Strong and pigheaded are two different things.”
“Give me a break! My whole life was upturned when you showed up at my doorstep. I’m navigating it as best I can—don’t you give me some sarcastic apology about ruining my life, I can see you gearing up for it—and I thought I could do more. Obviously, I fucking failed. Again.” I splay out my arms. “Lesson learned, all right? I’ve got no macho man left in me. You win.”
“You nearly died, Locke.” Carter’s voice breaks. “I understand your injury making you question everything. Having your pro-athlete title stripped from you, making you feel like less of a man. But was that really enough reason to put your life at risk?”
“I didn’t give a shit about my life,” I mumble.
“I did,” she says, her voice trembling. I catch her eye, and she’s sparkling with tears. “I give a shit about you. And so does Lily. And maybe I should’ve been clearer on that.”
I look at her closer. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”
“I should’ve known,” Carter says. “All the times you complained about your knee. Or even those moments when you were wincing, pretending it didn’t hurt you as much as it did. Your growing stiffness. I should’ve caught on.”
“I swear, lady, if you put this on yourself I’m going to be even more fucking angry than I already am.”
“Don’t you dare be mad at me.”