Make Me Yours, Daddy

-013-

~*JUNE*~

"June! Your phone is ringing!" Tyler calls from downstairs, his voice echoing through the apartment like a foghorn.

"I'm coming!" I shout back, my fingers fumbling with the hairbrush as I yank it through the tangles in my hair.

I fling the brush onto the bed, snatch my bag, and sling it over my shoulder.

My gaze flicks to the clock on the nightstand.

7:25.

"s**t! I need to hurry."

Even though I hate my job—hate being that annoying prick’s secretary with every fibre of my being—I still don’t want to be late.

"If you don’t come get your phone now, I swear I’m throwing it out the window!" Tyler bellows from downstairs.

"Relax, I’m coming!" I call back, rushing out of the room and down the stairs.

My feet pound against each step until I burst into the sitting room.

Tyler is draped across the couch, one hand buried in a family-sized bag of chips, crumbs scattered across his chest like a messy snowdrift.

He shoves a handful into his mouth and speaks through the crunch.

"Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Constantly. Like someone’s getting paid every time it buzzes."

I pick up my phone from the coffee table and stare at the screen.

Fifteen missed calls.

A bunch of messages.

I don’t even need to read them to know who they’re from.

My stomach tightens into a knot, the same one that’s been sitting there for the past two days since I saw Andrew’s text at the office.

Since then, he’s been calling and texting me nonstop.

I let out a heavy sigh and drop my phone into my bag.

Grabbing my shoes, I settle into the armchair, slipping one foot in and pulling the straps tight.

Tyler turns his head against the couch cushion, giving me a strange look. Even his chewing slows. "Aren’t you going to pick your phone up?"

"No," I reply quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

He sits up so quickly that chips fly off his chest, scattering across the floor.

He doesn’t even seem to notice.

His eyes lock onto mine. "Something’s wrong," he says quietly. "It’s written all over your face."

I focus on my other shoe, pulling it on.

"Tell me who was calling you," he says.

I finish with the strap and turn to him. "It’s Andrew."

Tyler’s whole body goes rigid.

Then he swings his legs off the couch and plants his feet on the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Andrew?" he repeats. "Your douchebag ex? That Andrew?"

"Yes."

"What the hell?" His voice sharpens. "How is he able to reach you? I thought you blocked his ass."

I run a hand through my hair, pulling it over my shoulder. "I did block him, but he keeps using new numbers to contact me. No matter how many times I block him, he still manages to reach me."

"What does he say he wants?" Tyler asks.

"He just keeps going on about how much he misses me and wants to see me."

Tyler lets out a low scoff. "Bullshit."

"I know, right." I rub my forehead. "For the past two days, he’s been calling and messaging me nonstop."

"That’s f****d up."

"Very f****d up," I agree.

I let out a sigh, and sink deeper into the armchair.

Tyler stares at me for a long moment, unblinking, his gaze locked on my face like he’s trying to read everything I’m not saying.

I feel myself shrink under it, curling into the chair as if I could disappear into the cushions.

Then he stands and crosses the room.

His hands settle on my shoulders, and he starts rubbing slow circles into the tight muscle there.

The tension doesn’t fully leave, but something in my chest loosens, just a little.

"You shouldn’t let that scumbag spoil your mood today, babe." His voice softens. "Besides, you’re too pretty to be going to work looking like the boogeyman got you."

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

"There she is." Tyler grins. "Now get going and go show that boss of yours just how good a secretary you are."

I groan. "Trust me, I’d rather he think I’m a bad secretary."

"And get fired?" Tyler raises an eyebrow. "No, girl. You know how hard you worked for this job. The applications, the interviews, the crying in my bathroom at two in the morning because you thought you’d bombed the final round. Don’t forget all that. You’ve got a good job. Not everyone gets promoted after their first month. Plus, the pay is good.

I let out a sigh because he’s right. He’s always right, and it’s annoying sometimes. "I know."

"Now get up," he says. "Start heading to work before you actually get fired for being late."

"Okay..."

I push myself out of the armchair and grab my bag.

Leaning in, I press a kiss to Tyler’s cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too. Now go."

I step out of the apartment and the door clicks shut behind me.

As soon as I step out, I spot a cab coming down the road.

I lift my arm and wave until it pulls over to the curb.

It stops right in front of me.

Quickly, I climb into the back seat and shut the door.

"Where to?" the driver asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

I give him the address.

He nods and pulls back into the road.

It isn’t even twenty minutes before we arrive.

The cab pulls up in front of the Macualay Media Group building, and I hand the driver a few bills before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Staring at the building, I mutter, "Another day to survive this crazy place."