Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(72)

When I was with Geoff, I felt safe and secure. There was nothing threatening about him at all, and the minute he walked into a room, the whole place felt ten times calmer. I still caught myself walking on eggshells and worrying I might say or do something to make him throw up his hands and decide I was too much trouble, but just having him there soothed my nerves like nothing else.

It was when I was alone that the wheels started really spinning. And thanks to both our jobs, I spent a lot of time alone.

Son of a bitch. How the fuck long does it take to get an asshole ex out of my head so I can move on with my life?

I had no idea. I just knew I couldn’t wait until I saw Geoff again.





Chapter 21


Geoff



I had a day off for some follow-up appointments to make sure my head was healing after the incident with Nathan. Of course all of that was done by noon, and Asher was on the road, so I had the afternoon to myself. Perfect day to get on top of some of the clutter accumulating in my tiny apartment. The kids and I were all fairly neat, but we were also busy, which meant things like mail and schoolwork piled up, and anything beyond the most basic cleaning—like the dishes and bathrooms—tended to fall by the wayside.

I was on my way back from the apartment’s laundry facility with a basket of clean clothes when Claire’s car pulled in. I smiled at the kids as they got out. David was preoccupied with something on his phone, which wasn’t unusual, but he managed a grunted, “Hey,” before jogging up the steps ahead of me and his sister. It was still a vast improvement over how things had been post-Marcus, though. I’d take it.

Claire was in her own world. Not hostile toward me, but she had that eyes-down, folded-in-on-herself look she got when something was bothering her.

“You okay?” I asked on the way up the stairs.

She glanced at me, flashed an obviously forced smile, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” Then her gaze dropped again, and she seemed to pull herself in even more.

If there was one thing I’d learned long before my breakup with Marcus, it was that there was no dragging Claire out of this. When she was ready to talk about it, and not a moment sooner, she’d come to me. It was the same way she’d been for a solid month before she’d sat Valerie and me down and said she wanted to transition. It was how she’d been for a good week before she’d asked her mom for advice about breaking up with a boyfriend last summer. She was letting something emotionally percolate, and once she’d made sense of it herself, she’d talk to us.

As we walked into the apartment, I said, “If you need to talk, you know where to find me, right?”

Claire nodded without looking at me. “Thanks, Dad.”

Then she retreated to her room. I watched her go as I set the laundry basket on the couch to start folding clothes. I was hopeful since she hadn’t snapped at me or given me the cold shoulder. Things had been a lot better with her and David since the night I’d gone to the ER. I suspected that had less to do with me dating their hockey idol and more to do with them being rattled by what could have been a serious injury. Nothing put things into perspective like having the object of your anger get hurt. I’d learned that in the Marines, and apparently my kids had learned it now. I would have preferred to resolve things with them a bit less painfully, but okay.

So I wasn’t as worried now that Claire would keep something from me out of anger. I was just concerned about what was weighing on her mind enough to make her withdraw like that, and I hoped she came to me sooner than later.

I got my wish—after a conspicuously quiet dinner, I’d just finished cleaning the kitchen when she appeared in the doorway.

“Hey Dad?” Her expression and the way she hugged herself set off alarm bells in my head. There was definitely something bothering her.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Can, um…” She bit her lip and shifted her weight. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course.” I motioned toward the living room. “Why don’t we sit down?”

She nodded without looking at me.

In the living room, I sat on one end of the couch, and she took the opposite end, pulling her feet up under her. Hoping I didn’t sound nearly as worried as I was, I asked, “What do you need?”

Claire stared intently at the fraying hole in the knee of her jeans. “So, um, Marcus texted me the other day.”

Oh. Fuck. That wasn’t what I’d expected.

I fought the urge to grind my molars. “What did he say?”

“He, um.” She shifted a little. “He said he missed me and David. And he wanted to take us to lunch. Just to say hi, you know?”

It took a lot of restraint, but I kept my expression placid and my voice even. “What did you tell him?”

“Well.” She swallowed, picking at the fraying hole in the knee of her jeans. “We had lunch with him. Yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Brow pinched, she finally looked at me. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. No. Of course not.” Not at her, anyway. “How, uh, how did it go?”

She dropped her gaze again and bit her lip.

Renewed alarm straightened my spine. “Claire? What’s going on?”

Another hard swallow. “He didn’t… I mean, he didn’t do anything or say anything bad. It was just… It was weird.”