Delilah stands and attempts to help. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I’m not . . .”

Suddenly we’re stuck in this farce of a dance, me smashing at the controls of my chair and whacking into everything, Delilah hopping around so she won’t get her toes crushed while yelling at me to let her help.

“I’ve got it,” I snap. “If you’d just back off.”

Her cheeks flush dark red. “You’re zooming around like an angry bee! Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to—” The lamp falls off the desk with a crash. “God damn it,” I finally shout. “Leave it be, Delilah!”

The force behind my order lashes out with the efficiency of a whip, and Delilah flinches. It’s enough to make us both pause. Breath coming out in hard pants, I stare at her for one awful second. Her eyes are round, lips parted with her agitated breathing. Then a glint, a rage I’m familiar with but haven’t seen in ten years, forms.

“What the actual hell is wrong with you?” she cries, her arms akimbo.

She stands over me like a teacher ready to give a lecture. The band around my chest won’t abate. “Nothing a good dose of privacy wouldn’t fix.”

Delilah snorts long and loud. “That’s not what you need a dose of. For crying out loud, Macon. You hire me in part to help you while you’re convalescing, but the second I try to offer a hand, you have a temper tantrum.”

Temper tantrum? My back teeth click together.

“I didn’t hire you. You came to me.” My thumb hits my chest for emphasis. “And part of that bargain was that you obeyed my orders without question.”

I can see her struggling to keep her cool. She takes a deep breath, her breasts lifting high. I don’t want to notice. I don’t want her here.

“Look,” she starts. “I was simply trying to help you get out from under the desk.”

Everything feels too tight now: my skin, my flesh, my insides. I am exposed. “I said I didn’t need your help.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“Get out.”

She simply raises her brow, crossing her arms under those ample tits.

Undirected rage, helplessness, and frustration rise up. The ugly hot mix surges through my body, and without thought or care, I set it free. “Get out! Get out!”

My shout rings in my ears, crashes over the room. It’s so loud, so aggressive, Delilah actually jumps. Her pretty face turns pale, and without another word, she flees.

I watch her go, horrified by my actions. I’ve never lost my temper like this. And for something so petty and baseless. She was trying to help. I tried to take her head off.

Unbidden, the image of my father standing over a much smaller version of myself with his fist raised flashes into my head. He had loved using his size and strength to intimidate those weaker and smaller than he was.

My stomach lurches, the room tilting sickly. “Fuck.”