I hated her. Hated the way she made me feel. Hated the absolute dependent need I had for her. Hated the way she made me break.

It was her fault my cock couldn’t get enough. Her fault I couldn’t stop. If she’d just pushed me away like I asked, she’d be safe.

Instead, I was hooked. Unable to let go.

Each day that passed brought us closer to June, closer to the anniversary of the accident, I grew more afraid. Nothing but pain was headed our way, and I was powerless to stop it.

I took a quick shower, and when I stepped out, Lila had her makeup on and was slipping on a skirt. Almost every day she wore a skirt, and somehow I had yet to bend her over her desk and shove it up her hips.

“Anything sound good for dinner?” Lila asked as she slipped her blouse over her head.

“If we had time, I’d say pot roast.” The temperature fell for the week, and a hearty bowl of warm comfort food sounded good.

“We can do that this weekend.”

I nodded in agreement. “What about a chicken dish? Maybe some pasta on the side?”

“I’ll look for some recipes today and go to the grocery after work. We’ve overdone my pasta bake.”

I chuckled. It was my fault, really.

“At my place tonight,” I said.

Her lips pulled up into a slight smile, her head bowed in a bashful way. “Okay.”

After all the time we’d spent together, all the nights she’d slept in my bed, and the idea of dinner at my place made her oddly shy.

At the end of the day instead of following each other home, Lila headed for the grocery. Part of me hated that I couldn’t go with her, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

My jacket gone, followed by my tie, and I was about to lose my shirt when the doorbell rang. Figuring it was Lila with her hands full, I ran to the door and swung it open.

It wasn’t a petite blonde with bags stuffed in her arms.

“Dad,” I said in shock at the man in the hall.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked.

I ushered him in and tried to find the best way to answer that. “I just got home from work.”

“How is that going for you? We haven’t talked in a while.”

We hadn’t talked in over a month.

“Good. A bit boring at times, but it keeps me busy.”

I directed him to take a seat, but I couldn’t join him. Nervous energy was eating me up as Lila was due any minute. How was I going to explain her to him?

“We need to talk, son,” he said, his tone serious.

I nodded, my jaw clenching. How was it those words could still inflict fear in me as an adult? The way he used his Dad-voice made me feel like I was a kid in trouble again. It was a tone I was very familiar with. I was a model student, but I got into my fair share of trouble, too.

And I was, once again, in trouble, even if he didn’t know the extent.

“First, though, how are you feeling?”

I shrugged. “Fine. How are you? How’s Mom?”

“We’d be better if we saw you more often.”

Knife to the heart. My father was never one to pull punches, but he somehow always managed to be caring and diplomatic.

“I know. I’m sorry. First it was the adjustment, then the long hours.”

He nodded in understanding, but before he could respond, we both froze at the sound at the door.

Fuck.

I heard the lock and the door as it opened. Lila had arrived, and I was fucked.

“Nathan?”

I froze, my eyes locked on my father’s.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“That’s…it’s complicated.” I begged him with my eyes to not ask any questions yet as I called out. “In the living room.”

I clenched my jaw in time with the clicks of her heels on the hardwood, my gaze locked on my father. I watched as he stared at the hall, the way his eyes widened when she came into view.

The clicks stopped, and Lila’s unsteady words filled my ears. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

She stared at my father for a moment before looking to me, and I beckoned her to my side. It was a necessary move to calm us both down, because I could almost feel the anxiety flowing from her.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, her beautiful eyes filled with a cross between curiosity and concern.

“Lila, I’d like to introduce you to my father, George Thorne.” I moved my gaze from her to my father. “Dad, this is Lila, my…my Lila.” Every muscle tightened, and I pulled her closer as I awaited his reaction.

A gasp left him as he stared at her with emotions that tore at me. Emotions of surprise and joy, which were the reason I never wanted them to meet. Because as much as I wanted her, as much as I needed her with every breath, we were doomed.

Like Romeo and his Juliet, we were a tragedy. A semi headed straight for a collision with a slab of concrete.

There was only decimation in our future.

He held out his hand. “Lila, it’s a true pleasure to meet you.”

My fingers dug at her clothing as she left my side and stepped forward to slip her hand in his. “You as well, Mr. Thorne.”

Dad smiled at her. “George, please.”

When his features morphed from a cautious happiness to slacken, I glanced down to follow where he was looking. I tilted my head back and cursed.

Fuck.

Her arms were bare, exposing the bruises that she gained daily when we fucked. Lila noticed as well and pulled her arm free.

“Are you staying for dinner, George? I’m making chicken marsala.”

He forced a smile, but his jaw was noticeably tight. “No, no thank you, my dear. I would love to, but Mrs. Thorne is expecting me home soon.”

I didn’t want to have the coming conversation with my father, and I didn’t want him to tell my mom. Add that in with the bruises, and the air was thick with an uneasy tension as Dad looked between us.

“Well…I’ll just let you return to your conversation, and I’ll go work on dinner,” Lila said as she stepped away from me again, severing herself as a shield for the coming conversation. “It was very nice meeting you, George.”

He gave her a nod, but she’d barely left the room before he let loose. “Nathan, are you…hurting her?”

I blinked at him and almost stuttered. “What?” Hurt her? Hurt my Lila? Was he insane?

“Son, she has bruises on her biceps and wrists. Are you abusing that girl?”