Page 93 of Forbidden Eyes
Couples.
“Another beer, honey?” the waitress asks.
I shake my head and sip at the bottle again, staring at the table and rubbing the scar on my neck. It feels tight today, like it's cramping up my neck and chest. I just need some time to process what I’ve done. That’s all. Get used to not being a Cane anymore and dismiss this feeling inside that wants to trash this whole fucking bar. I could go abroad somewhere. I’ll find some country, bed into it and find myself another life. Why the fuck I’ve come back here is a mystery. There’s less for me here now than there was when I was a kid. The Jag parked out front proves it. If it’s still there. Wouldn’t surprise me if someone’s already stolen it, at least the wheels.
“Carter Wade.”
My head lifts at the sound of a woman’s voice, New York vibes all over the pissed off tone.
Hope Winters.
I stand automatically, unsure what the fuck to do, nerves suddenly sliding all over me. She glares at me and places her bag on the table, eyes like slits at everyone else in the place. I can't get a goddamn word out of my mouth.
“Cute,” she says.
A half-hearted laugh splutters out of me. Christ knows why, but it’s the last thing I thought she’d say to me given everything I’ve been doing with her daughter.
“Doesn’t excuse your asshole behaviour, clearly, but I see what she likes about you.” She looks at the booth seat, a sneer on her face at the cleanliness of the place. “Really, Carter. Of all the places you could have run, here was the last place I expected.”
“I didn’t run.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she says, sitting and waving at the waitress.
I slowly sit my ass back down as Fia’s mother orders a scotch, then wait to hear what she has to say. Not that anything about her looks motherly.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. She just looks at me, a calm veneer all over her features as she bides her time. “Christ, you men are pathetic. You’re fucking exhausting. All of you,” she eventually drawls, arms folding over her chest. “You do love her, I assume? Must to have risked Benjamin's wrath.”
I don’t answer that. I ease my hand to my beer again and wait some more, wondering whether this is just her way of venting her frustration. I get it. Fia’s hurting. She needs an outlet for that, some way of helping her out.
“What do you want, Hope?”
“I want to know why a man like you, a man with enough guts to front Benjamin in the first place, would then run and pretend my daughter doesn’t matter to him even though he’s still sitting in Chicago moping like a fool.”
Straight to the point.
Now I know where her daughter gets it from.
“It’s not that easy, Hope. You know it as well as I do. This protects you all and—”
“Fuck easy. If you dare to go near her, you won’t have it easy, as you damn well know by the state of your face. That goes for you or anybody else who risks it in the future,” she cuts in, before picking up her scotch and sipping. “You still did it, though, Carter.”
I nod at that, because I’m damn glad I did, and rub my jaw. Still doesn't change where we're at, though.
“I thought that said something about you. To me, to him. But this…” she continues, waving a hand at me, her disgust making me feel like a goddamn kid again. “This isn’t a man worthy of Fia, not that anyone ever will be.”
I look at the table rather than at her, not sure what to say. She’s right about that, too. I'm not worthy of her, and even if I was, the second I give in and go back to get her is the moment all hell gets thrown at my family, this woman and Fia included.
“What is it, Carter? Isn’t she good enough for you? A quick fuck and fumble. Take her virginity and…”
My head rears back at the words, my feet pushing me upright at her degrading tone and a scowl levelled so quickly she pulls back across the table and shuts her mouth. Doesn’t stop her standing with me and closing the distance down, though, her eyes staying locked on mine.
“Don’t fucking play me, Hope. Of course, she’s good enough for me. Too good. She’s everything a man like me doesn’t deserve. This is the right thing to do, by everyone. You damn well know Quinn will be able to calm shit down if I'm not there.”
She launches the scotch at my face, blinding me, and the full weight of a slap follows it.
“Don’t you dare tell me about playing. I’ve played with worse than you my whole life. He’s coming, Carter. He’s on his way as we speak to lock her away in a fucking cage again and show Cane what he’s made of,” she spits, picking up her bag. “You think he gives a damn what Quinn thinks? Benjamin tolerates Quinn. Nothing more. No real friendship. No real care. He’ll send a riot at all of us rather than concede an inch on this. Believe me.”
Her face softens as she pulls in a breath, just enough that I understand her own fear in this. "My advice? Grow a pair and face him again. Protect her from it all. You've done it twice already so don't pretend you don't give a damn. Show her how it feels when the man you love keeps fighting for you."