I bite down so hard, my jaw aches. “Do I, Callum? Because anyone who’s with me needs to support me, not criticize my relationship with my only living parent.” I take another gulp of coffee. It burns down my throat, sour as vinegar.

“Of course you do.” His low tone turns bitter.

“Well, right now it feels like all I have is someone who wants to fuck me, then judge me.”

I don’t mean the words I say or the angry tone I take. But my emotions are a dumpster fire after seeing Mom in the one place I never, ever wanted her to end up.

Something that looks a lot like shock jolts through Callum’s expression.

“Is that what you honestly think of me, Nikki? I’m just some piece of meat you shag? Nothing more?”

The truth? Not even close. My burst of jealousy yesterday, the ache I felt waking up next to him this morning, the hope that consumed me in the hot tub while I waited for him to say just how much he wanted me and only me . . . it’s all proof that Callum means so much more.

I bite the inside of my cheek, take a silent breath, then count to three.

“I can’t do this. My mom needs me.” I spin to the trash can and toss in my empty cup, just so I don’t have to look at him.

I turn in the direction of her room, but Callum’s hands find me once more, this time on both of my upper arms. He turns me to face him, eyes desperate. The frustration is bubbling within him. There’s invisible steam practically pumping out of his ears.

“How can you say that? After what we said to each other tonight? After last night? After—”

I shrug out of Callum’s hold. “Don’t.”

My attempt at a whisper comes off more like a bark. A trio of nurses down the hall shoot us confused stares. Callum drops his hands from my arms.

I gaze up at him, willing my voice to sound steady and calm. “Please. I have to go.”

He replies with silence, a stony look on his face. But then he blinks and I see it. Sadness and disappointment, all caused by me.

He spins away and walks down the hallway, not once looking back at me.

Chapter 17

How was work, anak?”

I drop the food truck keys on the dining room table and kick off my sneakers. Every day I’ve arrived home, and every day I’ve been greeted with the same question from Mom.

“It was good. Busy. Mrs. Tokushige’s nephew Kyle has been a big help though.”