Shameless(80)

“I’m fine,” I choke out.

Finally, I face him, and I might be on the brink of losing it, but I’m not so far gone that I don’t notice how beautiful he looks standing shirtless in the middle of the kitchen with his jeans hanging low on his hips.

He scratches the stubble on his chin and lifts his eyebrows. “You don’t look fine.”

Blowing out a breath, I shrug. “I’ve had a bad day.”

“Is that why you’re home late? Guess it’s good I cancelled my shift tonight.”

“Oh, shit.” I glance at the clock and realize he was supposed to head to Austin hours ago. “I’m so sorry. I… I…”

“Kat, don’t worry about it. I wanted to hang out.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, a deep frown forming on his handsome face. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

I close my eyes and brace myself to hear that he’s leaving. Instead, I jump when a knock comes at the front door.

Brady looks toward the living room, and he starts to step toward the door, but I grab his arm. “Don’t. That’s for me.” I let go of him and chug the rest of my drink. “It’s my ex.”

His whole body tenses. “What the f*ck is he doing here?”

I hand him my empty glass. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I look up at him, wishing I could wrap myself in his arms and close ourselves off from the world. “Can we talk in a little while? I need to deal with Eric first.”

He nods, his jaw tight. “You going to be okay out there?”

“Yeah. He’s a dick, but he’d never hurt me.” More than he already has, anyway.

Brady leans back against the counter, his whole body tense, and looks me hard in the eyes. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” I smile weakly and drag myself to the front door.



Three deep breaths later, I force myself outside. Eric looks out of place in his designer clothes, reclining on the dilapidated bench in front of the large front window. The drapes are closed behind him, but the Christmas tree lights twinkle through the small sliver that remains open.

Eric’s presence is messing with my head. Everything about this place represents family and love and belonging while he only reminds me of what it’s like to feel alone and left behind.

But it’s a relief to realize how little I feel for him, which makes me wonder if I ever loved him at all. Because right now, I just want him gone.

Crossing my arms, I shake my head. “Why are you here?”

He flicks off an imaginary piece of lint from his khakis. “To end this nonsense. To bring you home for Christmas. To celebrate your birthday with you.”

A deep well of sadness bubbles over. My birthday. I’d almost forgotten.

My lips flatten. “You’re a bright guy. You really don’t think there’s something to salvage here, do you? I think I was pretty clear when I left Austin that we were over.”

He chuckles. “You left everything I ever bought you on my front steps. A little dramatic, but given the circumstances, I understand why you were upset.”

“You understand…” I sputter, almost apoplectic. “You understand why I was upset?”

“Baby, look, let’s get out of here. We’ll spend the next few days catching up at my place and then we’ll head to Corpus to visit your parents. You know they’re worried sick about you.”

Seriously, I can feel the pulse in my neck. I’m so angry, I’m vibrating. “Why the hell are you talking to my parents?”

He lifts his hands dramatically. “Someone had to. You left them in the dark while you shacked up with some loser.” A moment later, the emotion in his eyes dims. Just like that, he’s cool and collected. “In all honesty, this was a little predictable. You ran off to prove something to me, and now you’re slumming it. I get it. We all need to sow our wild oats. It’s not like I haven’t had a little fun these last few months. But the holidays aren’t for hookups, they’re for family.”

I stare into his icy blue eyes, dumbfounded he thinks that will win me over. “You really are an *.” But… how does he know I’m with Brady? Unless my parents made a few assumptions and mentioned those concerns to Eric. God, this just gets worse.

He bristles. “Language, Katherine. Have you forgotten all of the media prep work we did?”

I hate you.

I do. I hate him. I hate his misogynistic ideas about women and his need to control how I dress and speak. I hate his smug expression and that annoying laugh. And I f*cking hate that he conned me into believing the lies his father told on that campaign. Mentiroso.

I’m about to unleash a tirade when he says the only thing that could give me pause in a moment like this.

“Katherine, think about your options. Your time has run out here. Besides”—he lifts a judgmental brow—“it’s not like your guy here is going to turn down the offer he got for the farm.”

Time stands still as I process those words.

“Ho—how do you know?” I stammer. “How do you know about that?”

His lip quirks up in an amused grin. “What do you think?”

My eyes narrow as I take in his confident posture on the bench. The wide spread of his legs. The way his arm is casually draped over the back.