“Fun…” he breathes the word like a threat, then cocks his head to the side. “Absolutely not.”

I can’t help how my brows zip together. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he states, as casually as telling someone the time. “It’s Christmas. You’re staying right the fuck here, where you belong. With your family.”

That word, family, has an awful lot of bite to it for something theoretically positive.

Gawking at him like he’s lost his mind, my mouth hangs open in perplexity as he lifts the mug to his lips. He takes a sip, all the while eyeing me over the rim, almost as if he’s daring me to protest.

I have no idea what’s going on here. I thought lying about my relationship and suggesting I leave him alone would help the situation. Give him the out he so clearly wants. But now he’s telling me no…

He wants me to stay?? In this bubble of suffocating awkward tension??

Now I’m really lost.

“I just figured I’d give you some space,” I grumble. “After…”

My voice dissolves when his eyes widen, pleading with me not to mention it, while simultaneously imploring me to clear the air.

But I’m too much of a coward to go there first. I’m fucking terrified, shaking down to my bones. “You clearly don’t want me here. Christmas or not…”

“What would make you think that?” He blinks, sipping once more.

Don’t make me fucking say it… “Look, I just… I don’t know what to say. So I’m gonna go—”

“Hang out with your boyfriend?” He hisses, eyes narrowing into slits.

I gulp. “He’s not my boyfriend…”

“Right. It’s just fun.” He places the mug down on the table with a thunk. “But I said no. You’re fucking staying, Jesse. End of discussion.”

“End of discussion?” I scoff. “What am I? Four?”

“No. You’re eighteen, but you’re acting like an ungrateful little brat,” he seethes at me, shooting icy rage in my direction.

It’s crippling, but now my adrenaline is jacked up sky-high. I have no idea where this stern fatherly attitude is coming from, but it’s pissing me off. He’s never treated me this way, even when I was a kid.

“Why are you being such an asshole?” My fists ball at my sides. “I just wanted to go out for a few—”

“It’s Christmas,” he says again, like that suddenly means something, even though we’ve barely looked at each other today.

“So?” I huff. “What’s the big fucking deal? I’m an adult, I can come and go as I please.”

He takes a step forward, squinting at me as he holds firm. “As long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll obey my rules.”

What in the name of baby Jesus in a manger??

Apparently, me sucking him off turned him into the stiflingly strict Dad I never had. Or wanted.

“Are you fucking kidding?” An outraged chuckle slips out with my words. The audacity right now, I swear.

“No.” He steps forward once more. “I’m not fucking kidding. I’m deathly serious.”