“I just thought you should know,” Milo says, chancing another glance at Dean. He shakes his head and heads to the door, letting himself out.
I open my mouth to say something—but what? Thank you for coming? I’m not sure he did Dean any favors by sharing this information. Or maybe he did, but Dean doesn’t know it yet.
We stand in silence at the sound of Milo’s car starting up and backing out of the drive.
When he’s gone, I turn to Dean, stepping close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—”
Dean yanks me into his arms and squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. Then he buries his face into my neck and takes several long, ragged breaths before releasing me again. “Not your problem,” he says when he pulls back. He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Sorry you had to see that.”
See what? A bit of family drama? Dean’s known me and Kace long enough that he’s seen more than his share of our family’s drama. And sure, we don’t have anything like this, but I wouldn’t think twice about telling him if I had a fight with my mom or argued with Kace. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. There’s nothing to talk about.” He turns to the kitchen and heads toward the coffee pot.
“But it’s your dad, Dean.”
“Wrong.” While I know the anger in his eyes has nothing to do with me, it burns a little anyway. “He might be my father, but handing over half his DNA doesn’t make him my dad.”
There’s an accusation in his tone I don’t understand. What am I missing here? “Should we call Stella and let her know?”
He fills his mug, taking his time before he replies. “No need. I’m sure she already knows.”
“Wouldn’t she have told you?”
He takes a gulp of his coffee, staring straight ahead at nothing. “She tried. I reminded her how I feel about it.”
“Dean—”
“I don’t want to have this conversation, okay?” he snaps.
I don’t recognize the anger and frustration in his eyes right now, and I definitely don’t want it aimed at me, so I just nod and let it go.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abbi
I don’t bother texting Dean when I get off work after nine. Considering the way he froze me out this morning, I’m afraid if I ask, he’ll tell me not to come over. Deciding it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, I head straight there.
I find Dean on his back deck when I get there, and I immediately sit in his lap and wrap my arms behind his neck. Three weeks ago, this would’ve been unthinkable. I would’ve been far too fixated on my weight and awkwardness to do this. But tonight it’s as natural as breathing. This man needs comfort, and I’m going to give it to him in any way I can.
He sets his glass down on the little wrought-iron end table next to him and then wraps his arms around me. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, burying his face in my chest.
“Are you okay?” When he pulls back, his eyes are red, as if he’s been crying, and my heart feels like it cracks in my chest. I’ve known Dean a long time, and this is maybe the third time ever I’ve seen the evidence of tears. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Under normal circumstances, I like the idea of you thinking about me all day, but this time I’m not really a fan.”
“So I’m only allowed to think about you if sex is involved?”
He lifts one shoulder in a lopsided shrug and slides his hands under my shirt. “If I have it my way.”
I want more from you than that. I want you to confide in me. But I can’t ask for that. Not when this isn’t supposed to be that kind of relationship. Even if it was starting to feel like more. Even if this hope in my chest is growing so big that it’s smothering my doubts.
I brush my lips across his. “To be fair, I had sexy thoughts too. Those are never too far behind when I think of you.”
Groaning, he tugs me closer, and his hands roam over my back, rough calluses against sensitive skin. “Even after you had to see me lose my shit this morning?”
Is that what he considers losing his shit? A little show of temper and then stonewalling me? “I can’t pretend I understand what’s between you and your d—father—but you’re human. You’re going to get upset sometimes.”
He trails kisses across my collarbone, stopping at my shoulder, where he sucks lightly. “I just don’t like you knowing that part of me. I don’t like giving you any reason to think about it.”
I want to know all parts of you. “What part? The one that clams up and won’t talk?”