r /> “You look really tense,” she says softly, making herself comfortable on my lap. I grip her hips tightly and lean forward to sweep my lips against hers, which are always so damn soft. “I think I can help relieve some of that tension.” Her voice is low and seductive, and I want nothing more than to let her relieve my tension…but I can’t. For some reason, I can’t get that stupid fucker out of my head.
The words spill from my mouth before I even have a chance to second-guess myself. “Who is Max’s father?"
Her body stiffens against mine and she leans back, releasing her grip from my hair. I know I’m making her uncomfortable, but I have to know. I need to know what happened…why he left. Harley stares at me, blinking absently several times. Her vibrant green eyes have grown cold and distant, and I hate that I put that look on her face. Reaching up, I thread my fingers through her hair, hoping to salvage the moment.
“Please don’t pull away from me,” I sigh. “I can see that this is hard for you, but I need to know." I rest my forehead against hers, willing her to come back to me, but I can tell it’s already too late. She pulls backs, dislodging herself from my embrace, and stalks off toward the kitchen. I follow behind her quietly and watch as she grabs two water bottles out of the refrigerator. She doesn’t say a word, just continues past the stove and out the sliding glass doors into the backyard.
She hands me a bottle, but I shake my head. I don’t want something to drink. I want her to talk, that’s what I want. She shrugs her shoulders, twists off the cap, and takes two long swigs. Her eyes are trained on something in the distance, but I can tell by the far-off look on her face that she isn't really looking at anything…she's thinking. What the hell is there to think about?
She bites the inside of her cheek and blinks several times, obviously trying to keep from crying. When she finally speaks, her voice is laced with contempt. “I don’t know who Max’s father is," she says, avoiding eye contact.
Wait. What? “I don’t understand."
“It’s not difficult, Tyson,” she snaps, throwing her hands up at her sides. When she sees the questioning look on my face, she closes her eyes and drops her chin. “Just think about it for a second,” she murmurs.
It’s a simple question. How in the hell could you not know who the father of your child is?
"Did you have a one-night stand?" I ask, confused.
She scrunches her eyebrows and glares at me. "No, I didn't have a one-night stand."
My eyes stay locked on hers, but for the life of me I can't come up with any other reason. Again, how do you not know? "You're gonna have to spell it out for me, Harley. I don't—"
"I was raped, Tyson," she yells. Her words slam into me like a freight train and my heart starts pounding against my ribcage. No...NO!
This isn’t happening.
Please God, please tell me that didn’t happen.
I rush over to her, fighting back the lump forming in my throat. I grip her arms firmly, jerking her to me. “Who, Harley?" I demand. "Who was it?" The roaring in my ears is pounding in sync with my heart. I clench my jaw as my mind focuses on nothing other than destroying the motherfucker that hurt MY girl! I know I need to calm down, but she needs to tell me who did this. I'll fucking kill him.
What kind of sick fuck—?
“I said I don’t know." Her shrill voice rings loud, and through my rage I finally register her ashen face and trembling body.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that’s boiling inside. I slide my hands up her arms, cradle her face, and gently pull her to me. My thumbs tip her face toward mine, and when our eyes collide, all I see is…fear.
No. No, no, no. "Harley," I soften my voice, pushing my anger aside. Her eyes drop. "Look at me, please," I say, nudging her chin softly. She raises her face, meeting my gaze. She blinks rapidly several times and lifts her hands to grip my wrists.
FUCK!
I fucking scared her.
My hands slide to her shoulders, down her arms, and then I turn her hands over, linking them with mine. I lower my forehead so we're nose to nose.
"I would never—never—hurt you." My words are pointed yet soothing, and a gush of air rushes out of her lungs.
Her chest heaves several times and she squeezes my hands. "I know," she whimpers. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
The guilt and pain in her voice is my undoing. "No. You have nothing to be sorry about. Just please don't ever fear me," I beg, bending down so that we're eye level. "I will never hurt you." She nods once and I lean in, stroking my lips over hers.
"I know this is hard for you…" I pause, my eyes glancing around the yard, trying to find my words. Guilt burrows deep in my gut and my stomach rolls. I know it isn't fair to ask her about that night, but I have to know. "I still have questions," I say softly. "Is that okay?" I raise my eyebrows questioningly and she nods once.
Her strength amazes me.
“You don’t know who did this?" I ask again, this time keeping my rage in check. She shakes her head slowly and tries to look away, but I don’t let her. Why won't she look me in the eye? She's told me no three times and each time she looked away.
I'M NOT SURE WHAT the fuck just happened, but when he jerked me toward him, I could see—no, I could feel—the anger rolling off of him. In that moment, when those same chocolate brown eyes met mine, all I saw was Dallas. Fortunately, his gentle touch quickly brought me back to reality.