Page 72 of The Hook Up
Ty took a shaky breath. His heart felt like a cold, dead lump in the middle of his chest. “Before he met me, how many times, exactly, had Henry used the phrase, ‘squirrel fucker?’”
Ellie shook her head and wiped the edge of one eye with the heel of her hand. But in that instant, there was a flicker of uncertainty–of the knowledge that he might be right.
“That’s not a fair question,” Ellie said.
“You know what else isn’t fair?” Ty took a shaky breath, trying to control his voice. The scent of cookies and fabric softener hung in the air of Ellie’s place, choking him with memories of home and happiness. Things he’d never had. “It’s not fair for me to get Henry’s hopes up about a paycheck, then having him find out thereisno paycheck. Or playing soccer. Or watching a video. Do you know what it does to a kid to find out over and over again that a grown-up he trusted flat-outliedto him?”
Ellie shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. “Ty, you can’t possibly be comparing a childhood of neglect and emotional abuse with a few minor incidents of disappointment and foul language,” she said. “If there were any comparison at all, half the parents in America would have Children’s Services knocking at their door.”
“That’s just it, Ellie.” It felt like someone skewered his spleen with a steak knife, and he wished more than anything for a way to undo this—tonight’s regrettable incidents, his whole childhood, all of it. “I’m not a parent,” he said. “I’m not cut out to be a father or a husband or a boyfriend or even a role model. Those options aren’t on the table for me. Growing up the way I did—there’s no way I can possibly bring anything but heartache and frustration to your life.”
Ellie stared at him. “And you don’t think I can judge that for myself?”
“No,” he said. “You don’t know me. Not like you think you do.”
She flinched at that, and Ty wanted to take back the words. But they were true, and she needed to know it. “Ellie, the real me isn’t a good guy,” he said. “He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t step in to film your son’s school event in a pinch. He’s the kind of guy who leaves you alone in his living room with a convicted felon.”
There was that flicker of uncertainty again. The look in her eyes that said she recognized there might be something to his warning. That maybe this was for the best.
She stared at him for a long time. There was sadness in her eyes, but something else, too. Understanding, maybe. The knowledge that he was right. That she was better off without him.
She had to know that, right?
“I thought you were different,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who’d cut and run at the first sign of trouble.”
The words hung there between them, unspoken.The kind of guy like Henry’s father. Like Ty’s own father.
“I am,” he said in a voice halfway between a sob and a growl. “I’m exactly that kind of guy.”
Ellie shook her head as tears spilled down her cheeks. But she didn’t sob. She didn’t break down. God, even now she was the strongest woman he’d ever known.
She stared at him, digesting his words as her blue eyes shimmered. Her hands clenched, white-knuckled, at her sides, and he almost wished she’d punch him. God knew he deserved to hurt.
Which stung worse? The look in her eyes that said she didn’t believe him?
Or the one that said deep down she knew he was right. “I think you’re making a mistake, Ty.”
Her voice was soft. Almost as soft as her skin, which he’d never touch again. He hated that thought. Maybe more than he hated himself.
He swallowed hard, wishing he could reach for her.
Wishing for so many other things he’d never have.
“Maybe I am making a mistake,” he said. “But I’m keeping you from making a bigger one.”
And with that, he turned and walked out the door.
* * *
“Of all thebullshit reasons for a breakup!” Across the table, Miriam stabbed a hunk of chicken breast with her fork and glared.
Ellie sighed. “He does have a point. My job is to protect Henry, and if Ty himself thinks he’s a bad influence—” She stopped there, not willing to finish the sentence. Staring down at her salad, she wondered when saying his name would stop feeling like someone shoved her heart into a vise and started cracking the handle.
She was having lunch with Jason and Miriam at a café next to the community pool where Henry took swimming lessons. Parents had been kicked out after a crowd of camera-wielding helicopter moms fell into the pool, so Miriam, Jason, and Ellie had retreated to the café next door for lunch.
Her brother watched her. He sat stoic and silent beside his fuming wife, thankfully not pulling the overprotective big brother act he’d employed when Chuck left.
Unsatisfied by her husband’s lack of fury, Miriam jabbed an elbow into Jason’s ribs. “Don’t you have anything to say?” she asked.
