Page 50 of Scored

“Please talk to me.”

His face…it’s scary, and I brace, waiting for him to snap at me, to take his anger out on me.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his big chest expands and contracts on a breath, and then he closes his eyes for a moment. “When she was a teenager, Chrissy was kidnapped.”

I gasp.

Thankfully, that doesn’t make him stop talking.

“She thought she was meeting a boy interested in her. Instead, she was taken and I had the worst couple of days of my life. It was right after I moved here, right after Titan started getting a lot of press. I thought I wouldn’t get her back, especially after the ransom note arrived.”

Unable to stand her, not touching him, I shift closer, slowly wrap my arms around his middle.

And am full of gratitude when he holds me in return.

“Pascal found her, and she and I worked through a lot of trauma afterward to live normally, but I’ve never forgotten the feeling of know what happened to her, knowing it was my fault, knowing I couldn’t do shit to get her back on my own.” He shakes his head. “I failed as a parent. I didn’t keep her safe, and she suffered for years because of it.”

“Honey,” I whisper, my eyes damp as I struggle with what to say. “That must have been so hard on both of you.”

He brushes a tear that escapes away. “I fucked up after, went crazy trying to protect her, and it took a long time for us to find a balance.”

“Tonight that balance shifted?”

Pain in bright blue eyes. “She was trying to get into Chrissy’s cameras—and who knows what else? My daughter was put at risk again because of my shit, and I can do fuck all about it. If I go crazy with protections Chrissy, I’ll damage our relationship. If I don’t, she could get hurt. So, I’m stuck here, trusting Pascal and his team to be doing somethingIshould be doing.”

This is…

I empathize with everything he’s saying.

I just…don’t have a good solution to fix it.

Life is complicated and messy and we have to put our trust in other people and?—

That’s scary.

“Will you promise me something?”

He takes another deep breath. “Yes, buttercup.”

“Will you talk to Chrissy? She’s going to be a mother, and she’s smart. She’ll take reasonable precautions, especially if Pascal is giving suggestions rather than her overprotective dad.”

I see it then.

The twisting emotions flattening out, settling, just slightly.

“I can do that, baby.”

“Good, Jean-Mi.”

Soft eyes. A gentle hand brushing down my back?—

Then nudging me toward the bathroom. “Change, buttercup.”

Considering the day he’s had, I decide to let the order slide.

Especially when he says, “I’ll go hunt down that face stuff.” A beat. “And give Chrissy a quick call.”