Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I knew why I was still at my job, even after the obstacles started feeling like mountains I wasn’t sure I could overcome. But he had other options.
Michael looks down at his hands. “I’d only met my father once before my college graduation. I was twelve and he came to visit the private school I was actively trying to get thrown out of. He explained that he wanted me to join the family business. It was why he’d picked that school. Why he cared so much about my education. He told me I was a Demir, and that came with certain expectations.” His lips thinned. “After that visit, I buckled down and accepted his challenge. I learned multiple languages, majored in both accounting and finance, and graduated at the top of my class. That day was the first and only time he told me he was proud of me.”
He frowned. “In hindsight, I think that was all I really wanted. I didn’t approve of who he was, how he ran his business or how he lived his life, but for some reason, I needed his acceptance. I kept working for it right up until he died. I know you’ll say I should have left years ago,” he adds. “But I was good at my job and I knew that company. And I wasn’t ready to make any changes until now.”
I blow out a hard breath. I can picture it so clearly, that child trying to prove his worth. Trying to win the affection of someone who didn’t deserve his.
Yet another reason Michael Demir isn’t a starter boyfriend. His past and mine are similar in all the wrong ways. Haven’t I been trying to prove I’m worth keeping around for years now? The best friend. The best teacher. All while staying away from men that I know don’t do casual because I don’t want to hurt them.
That’s the joke of it all, you know. It was never about hurting them. It was about me. I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to raise my hopes only to have them shatter. It’s a purely selfish survival instinct. An instinct that I was able to shut off for a few days until we got back to the lodge and it resurfaced with a vengeance.
He could hurt me.
“What is it, Win? Did I say something that upset you?”
“You didn’t, no.” I feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands. “I just hate that he put you through that. A parent is supposed to love their child, Michael. Even if they didn’t mean to conceive, a decent person is supposed to care whether a kid—any kid—lives or dies. It used to be wired into us as humans, you know. It’s how we survived and evolved. We didn’t have killer instincts, protective shells or long claws. We were easier to kill than a slug on the ground, but we had compassion, community and the protection that came from huddling together and sharing resources and knowledge. Why is it so easy now for people to treat their children like competition, or afterthoughts, or garbage?”
I don’t realize I’ve hopped off the stool and am backing away until Michael takes a step toward me. “Stop, Win. Stop and talk to me. This isn’t about my father, is it?”
My head is shaking. What am I saying no to?
All of this. It’s too much.
“I… Sorry. Maybe it’s the teacher in me. When it comes to neglected kids, I take it personally. And I can relate, you know? Connor’s parents made him fight for whatever scraps of food or attention he could get. Bex’s would have sold her for drugs if she hadn’t run away. And my mother ditched me for the latest guy she’d met at bible study. Or maybe it was the bar. I forget. Just left town and handed our keys to the landlord, along with my clothes. Which was fine, really, because I had my friends and she’d never been interested in being maternal. She did love falling in love though. She couldn’t stop doing it, no matter how many times it broke her heart. The only one she couldn’t love was me. But I was better off without her.”
What am I doing? Why am I saying this right now? I draw in a painful shuddering breath. “Wow, talk about selfish. I apologize. You were trying to share something personal and I just… You’ve got this covered and I need to go get ready. I—yeah, I have to go.”
“Wait, Win. Just stay for a few—”
“Don’t ask me to stay,” I plead raggedly. “I’ll see you later, okay? But in case I don’t, you know how I… Just, thank you. I have to go now. I can’t breathe in here.”
I turn and flee before I can change my mind.