Page 78 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

“I hear you,” he says, and the way he says it makes my chest ache.

I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, angry at myself for crying, angrier that I can’t stop.

“So don’t stand there and rewrite history,” I say. “You didn’t choose us. You chose your disgust. You chose your assumptions. You chose to look at me like I was a trap.”

Nathan’s expression turns hard, then it breaks open into something raw. “I chose wrong.”

I stare at him, and it hurts to see the truth on his face.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight,” he continues, voice low. “I’m not asking you to hand me a role and call it love.”

My breath catches.

He shifts closer, careful, and he rests his forehead against mine for a beat, then pulls back just enough to look at me properly.

“No one is forcing my hand,” he says, and each word is clean and deliberate. “Not you. Not her. Not the past. Not fear.”

I blink, and my chest feels too full.

“I’m here,” he says, voice rough. “I’m here since I need to be here, and I can’t imagine life without you and Ivy in it.”

The sentence lands hard, and my eyes fill again before I can stop it.

Nathan’s thumb presses lightly at my chin, lifting it the way he does when he wants me to look at him and not hide. “Will you let me back in?” he asks, and his voice, once again, reminds me of the deep heart of a brewing storm.

17

ATHENA

Nathan’s thumb stays under my chin, steadying it, and his eyes don’t flinch away from mine. He waits like he can afford patience, then he waits like he’s terrified I’ll use it to disappear again.

I swallow slowly and try to find the part of myself that makes clean decisions, then I realize it’s buried under six years of habit and fear. My throat feels tight, my eyes feel hot, and my body is still singing from everything we just did and everything we just said.

“I don’t know,” I admit, and the words scrape on the way out. “I don’t know how to let you in without risking her.”

Nathan’s hand slips from my chin to my cheek, then he stills it there like he’s reminding himself to stay gentle. His voice drops, warm and quiet, and it doesn’t sound like a man trying to win. “You don’t have to decide tonight. You don’t have to decide tomorrow, either.”

I frown at him, suspicious on instinct. “You’re not going to push?”

“I’m not going to push.” He says it like a promise he can keep. “You take your time, and I show you who I am now.”

The room is oddly quiet, and the truth in his face makes it harder to hide behind anger. I look down at the sheet bunched at my waist, at the faint mark on his shoulder where my nails were, then I look back at him and feel my chest twist.

“Time,” I repeat, voice thin. “That’s new.”

Nathan’s mouth curves briefly before it fades into something softer. “I’m learning.”

I press my palm against his chest again, not as a shield this time, more as a test. His heart beats steady under my hand, his skin is warm, and the fact that he’s here in my bed makes my throat tighten again.

“I’m not letting you spend alone time with Ivy right now,” I tell him, because that’s where my mind goes first. “I’m not ready for that yet, and I apologize if that’s selfish.”

Nathan’s gaze holds mine. “Good,” he says quietly. “I’m not offended, Athena.”

I narrow my eyes, and he lifts a hand as if to surrender. “I’m not being cute,” he adds. “You’re right to protect her.”

I sit back slightly, the sheet shifting over my thighs, and I pull air into my lungs until my voice doesn’t shake. The need in my body is still there, bright and restless, yet the bigger thing pressing on me is Ivy’s face in the hallway, her sleepy fear, her tiny voice asking if he’s a bad guy.

“She’s going to wake up early,” I say, mostly to myself. “She always does when she senses something off.”