Under Locke(90)

Did he say anything? No.



Instead, I felt the heat of his body get even closer right before the pillow below me was lifted, raising my head right along with it. A heartbeat later, he plopped into the empty spot, dropping the pillow on top of his lap so that my upper body rested on his thighs. The weight of his hand settled between my shoulder blades.



I tried sitting up onto my knees but his hand kept me down on top of him—well, the pillow. My boobs were smashed against his thigh but I didn't care. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry.



"Dex," I kind of whined.



He palmed the back of my neck, shifting down the couch just a bit. "Ritz."



"I don't want to hear it right now."



Dex made a humming noise. "I'm not gonna talk shit to you right now," he said in a silky, low voice. "I wanna know what the fuck had you screamin' in the shower, babe."



I hated him. Just a little.



"First I thought it was me that was makin' you cry but after a while, I figured I couldn't have made you that mad."



"Don't flatter yourself," I groaned. "You made me mad," I turned my mouth just to the side so I wouldn't drool all over the pillow. "But no, I'm not going to cry over you calling me ugly names and being a total dick."



He groaned, the hand on the nape of my neck tightened. His fingers massaging the sides. "I was pretty fuckin' pissed."



"Anytime you're pissed, you're always really friggin’ pissed," I explained to him, earning a snicker from the big man beneath me. "You were a jerk."



Another groan. His hand slid over to my right shoulder blade. "You were bein' an idiot, Ritz."



"So you had to call me a dumb little shit in front of your friends?"



He didn't answer. Dex's large palm swept over to my other shoulder, cupping that one, too. "Lu told me I was too harsh with you," he admitted in what I could only assume was a contrite voice. "I was worried, all right?"



Hmm.



"I was plannin' on gettin' home and tannin' your ass like Ma used to do to me." His fingers went right back to my neck, the palm kissing my spine. "I don't really think you're a dumb little shit," he said.



I turned my head the other way to face his stomach. "Oh?"



"You're just a little shit, babe," Dex murmured. "You wanna tell me what all that mess in the shower was about?"



No, I didn't. Yet, there I was opening my mouth. "My dad's an asshole and an idiot."



"Whoa there, tiger. Watch the potty mouth," said the man that dropped the f-bomb at least one hundred times a day. Dex's long fingers swept down my spine all the way to where the elastic on my shorts were. A small part of me recognized that this was too intimate but the warm reassurance was exactly what I needed and wanted. "What happened?"



"He has another kid." I totally wheezed out the words. "My mom was friggin' dying, losing all of her hair, throwing up every day, and this asshole was off having babies with some lady, Dex." I gasped. "Does he not know what the hell a condom is used for? What kind of a selfish jackass does that?"



Of course, he didn't respond but I didn't care because the words just kept pouring out of my mouth.



"He loved my mom, was married to her, had kids with her and he left us. Just like that. Like we were nothing to him. One day he was there and the next he was telling my mom he couldn’t stay any longer. He was restless, he said. I always hoped that maybe he’d come back. Maybe he’d miss us enough," I rambled. "But no. Nooooo. That fucking asshole doesn't give a shit about anyone. Not really."



Dex's hand slid up my back again, circling one side of my shoulders before moving to the other.



"And he has another kid, and he left that one too." God, I was pretty sure I was wheezing. "I hate him, Dex. I hate him for breaking my mom's heart, and leaving us, and for not caring. God dammit. I needed him—," Screw me. I'd started tearing up again, my voice cracking. "And he didn’t give a fuck."



A watery cough escaped my body. “I just want life to quit taking a shit on me.”



That large hand kept up its circling swipes, down one side of my back before moving over to the other while I sat there, trying to compose myself. Trying to bottle up the momentary anger that had made its way out of me. For a long time, we just sat there. Me still laying partially over Dex's lap, Dex with his hand moving around my back over my t-shirt. The silence was okay because I'd said what I needed to. I'd released the crap I'd held in for so long.



Because apparently, whether or not I'd stopped thinking about my dad years ago, the effect he'd left on me had been stored into the recesses of my conscience.