Page 97 of Never His Girl
Instead of making another assumption, I just wait for him to explain.
“I want you to tell her the truth. About Parker,” he shares, leaving me dumfounded.
“But if you out her, won’t she release what she knows about you?” I turn to face him, wondering what’s brought this on.
It seemed like he’d gone out of his way to conceal whatever this secret is he’s kept, but now he wants to just put it all out there?
“What’s going on?”
He doesn’t look at me when I ask, but I can see him considering the question deeply.
His shoulders lift with a shrug and I don’t take my eyes off him.
“I’ve had a lot of shit on my mind,” he says. “It’s the reason I didn’t talk much on the ride home yesterday.”
He’s not wrong. I noticed he was quiet, but assumed he was still exhausted from the big game, from the stress of worrying whether they’d pull out the win.
But now, I realize that wasn’t it.
“I don’t want to be my father.”
His confession catches me off guard and I’m not really sure what to say to that.
“Yeah, he’s an all-around piece of shit,” West scoffs, “but it all comes from him lying and twisting the world around him tofitthose lies. It hit me that, if I don’t straighten all my shit out now, I might noteverget it straight, and I can’t wake up one day and realize I let myself become him.”
West’s gaze is focused on the tile beneath our feet, but I’m focused on him. On the guy I thought I had pegged—as the rich prick who thought the sun rose and set on his ass, as the heartless bastard who got off on making others feel dead inside. But as I stare at him now, there’s so much emotion within him, so much conviction, I can’t believe he was ever able to hide it from me.
It’s all so evident now.
When my hand slips into his, he peers up.
“I don’t know your father, but I know you. And your heart’s good. Even if you haven’t always known how to let that show.”
He stares, eventually shaking his head at me. “Not always.”
I don’t let him tear his eyes away from mine, holding his gaze. “We’re talking about now, West.”
There’s a look of disbelief on his face that isn’t lost on me.
“How can you even say that? After all the shit I’ve done to you.”
When I shrug and smile a little, it lightens the heavy mood some. “Because I see you.”
It’s not the most profound answer in the world, but it’s the one I have, and it’s honest.
He peers down on me and I feel so much coming from him, things he’s not ready to say, but I feel it.
“I want you in on everything.”
My brow quirks. “Everything?”
He nods. “I’d rather you hear it from me before you hear it from anyone else. After, we’ll talk shit out and decide what’s next.”
I draw in a deep breath, knowing that whatever he needs to say will likely be heavy, but I’m not worried.
“Come over tonight,” I say. “I have to cook for Scar when I get out of practice, but we can talk after that.”
He nods and squeezes my hand where it still rests in his. That feeling hits me again. The one I swear he’s holding in, but has yet to outwardly acknowledge.