Harrington 3

Back in Business

"You know," I say, crossing my arms, "If you want you can tell people that I punched you to avoid suspicion. I do throw a mean uppercut, so it wouldn't be a hard lie to believe."

"I'm really not in the mood for your shit right now, Harrington." He seems to accept that I know what's going on, so now he's turning as if to leave.

"You can even throw a swing at me if you want so it looks even," I joke, although I know it'll tempt him, "You've always wanted to finish what you started."

He scoffs, turning to look back at me, "You know that's tempting."

I raise my eyebrows at him and smile as he shakes his head, "Get lost."

"No, I don't think I will. On the contrary . . ." I turn and enter the kitchen, opening the freezer and pulling out an ice pack before entering the living room once more, "Think fast."

I chuck it at him and he grabs it out of the air, not offering me a thank you as he reluctantly presses it to his face. I take a seat cross legged on the armchair, and he eyes me in annoyance before sitting on the couch across from me.

"If you tell a single soul about this I'll have your head, do you understand?" He threatens, pointing a finger at me with blazing eyes as I shrug, "Not even Max."

"What, surely she knows," I say back, leaning back into the soft pillow behind me.

He shakes his head, "Keep your mouth shut."

"You know, I usually charge people for my silence." I raise an eyebrow, smirking as he glares at me.

"And usually we aren't alone in the house." He leans forward and lowers his voice, "So you're lucky I haven't beaten you to a pulp already."

"Yeah," I agree, "what's up with that? I mean this is a once in a lifetime chance for you, take it."

"You want me to beat you up?" He asks confusedly.

"God no." I shake my head, "It's just very out of character that you haven't."

"Yeah, well Max will be home soon, if I was gonna beat you up it would be someplace that's not here." He leans back in thought, "Like if I ever see you in public and there's no one around? Oh, you're so dead."

I cock my head to the side, amused, "I see you've put a lot of thought into this."

"It keeps me up at night." He shrugs.

Silence follows his comment, and I get a little nervous to bring up the elephant in the room.

"So." I pick at the armrest my left arm sits on and clear my throat awkwardly, "How long has your dad been like this?"

He looks at me with an unreadable expression, and I think he's gonna get angry, but then he just laughs, "What? You think this is some type of therapy session?"

I stare at him, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm just here to make sure you don't go blabbering with that big mouth of yours."

I nod, "Right, okay. Sorry."

And he gets up, shaking his head at me before going to leave the room. I'm left there feeling like an idiot, but still ready to push the limits.

"Sometimes it's nice to talk about it." My voice is quiet, but he hears me. He stands in the doorway and looks back, all rage gone and just looking grim.

"You don't understand," he says, and I know the words are meant to be harsh, but all I see when he says them is a little boy, terrified of his father.