Page 62 of Never the Same

I pointed to her food. “If you want to work out, eat and talk.” And stop staring at me like you’re hungry for me, not the sandwich. “And I have no clue if you’ve dealt with a tornado before. It’s doubtful. Feel like they rarely hit Boardwalk and Park Avenue.”

“Look at you, with the jokes now,” she teased.

I waited for her to turn her ass around and answered a question I knew she would ask, “And yes, I’ve been in some. Two big ones. A couple smaller ones.”

“Oh. Um, was everything—”

“Nope, it wasn’t.” Without looking at her, I stabbed a finger in the direction of her plate, a plea to give her sad sandwich her sad eyes instead of me.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“What? Eat?” I shook my head, confused. When was I not confused when it came to her? She gave me as much whiplash now as she used to.

“No, I can’t sit here and act like I don’t know something.”

My stomach dropped, and I shoved my plate away and twisted around on the stool, resting my forearm on the counter to brace for Hurricane Hollis to make impact.

“Your dad,” she said softly, like she was terrified of how I was going to react. “I know about him. I heard you all talking after I left the room this morning. Something about a cure.”

I had no words. Not a damn one.

I curled my fingers into my palm, biting down on my back teeth as I switched to staring at her barely touched sandwich instead of her.

“Do you really think I may have been searching for that book to help your dad? I can’t be that much of a pain, or that bad of a person, if I was trying to—”

“You trying to help my dad and get up in my business is exactly the kind of pain-in-the-ass thing you would do, yeah.” I shifted around to stand, not trusting myself not to blow a fuse while discussing my father, and she didn’t deserve to be on the other end of my anger.

I was pissed at the man who’d raised me, who now didn’t recognize me, while in the presence of a woman who could only seem to remember me. Was this some sick joke? I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to calm down before I met her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Here I go sticking my foot in my mouth yet again, but I feel guilty I eavesdropped.”

“You’re not the problem, I am,” I admitted, lifting my hand as a plea for her to not object to that. “I just hope you didn’t get hurt because you were trying to help that man. He doesn’t deserve saving by you.” I slowly looked up at her, swallowing. “He’s my own flesh and blood, and I don’t even want to help him.”

“Oh, Jason.” She blinked, sympathy pouring out of her I didn’t want, deserve, or need. “Sorry, um, Reed.” She slowly rounded the barstools in an attempt to get to me.

I raised my other hand while backing away as if she had an M4 in hand and I was only armed with a water gun.

Survive tornadoes and war? Just another Tuesday.

Handle her being in my personal space and not explode? I’d have to be carried out on top of my shield, because I’d surely die.

“You’re in my home because of what happened to you. Not to talk about me. Not for anything pertaining to me.” I had to get us both back on track here. “You’re my mission.”

“Two things can happen—”

“Negative.” I kept my arms extended as a barrier, not trusting her. Trusting myself even less. “While we’re at it, maybe we need to establish some ground rules. Three feet. We, uh, should keep that much space between us at all times.”

Her brows shot up, and she folded her arms like a guard. Good, that was a start.

“I’m being generous here. Would prefer six.”

“Anything else?” she asked coolly.

At least one of us was maintaining a healthy blood pressure.

“No more questions about my personal life.” My hands slowly fell to my sides as I exhaled. “I refuse to believe this happened to you because of my dad. My past is mine to keep, not to discuss.” I gestured to her plate. “Now, eat. Work out if you want. But no sauna today. I can’t be in there to babysit you. To make sure you don’t faint on me.”

“Why can’t you—”