I trudge back to the bedroom and find Dax sprawled out on the bed. His forearm covers his eyes until his ears prick at my footsteps.
He lowers his arm and sits up. “How’d it go?”
I shrug and sit on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t matter.”
He slides his hand over mine, and his warmth calms my nerves. “Yes, it does.”
I exhale and focus on the thumping of my heart. “He knows about The Scorpions because they’ve caused havoc at his factories. LJ saw your tattoo while we were at the tailor’s and tipped off my dad about us.”
“I get why your dad’s worried about you. He probably never expected to see his daughter on the back of a motorcycle.”
“That’s the problem. He has too many expectations of me.”
“He just wants to protect you.”
“But he won’t listen. If he did, he’d know I don’t need protection from you.”
“Yeah, but he thinks I’m like my dad.”
“If he saw what I witnessed today, he’d want to take you in and keep you safe.” I sniff hard, choking up. “That’s all I want.”
Dax scoots forward and pulls me into his arms. I rest my chin on his shoulder, fighting the urge to cry, as his strong hands rub my back.
Eighteen
WhenDaxfallsasleep,I leave the pool house to get him a fresh change of clothes. If Claudia will snoop through Christie’s wardrobe for me, it’s not much of a stretch to ask her to do the same in my brother’s room.
As I meander through the first floor, I near Dad’s study. The door is ajar, and light streams across the hardwood floors. I press my hand firmly into my queasy gut, and step forward. This is a mistake, but I push the door open anyway.
“Dad?”
Dad’s focus lifts from his work, and a pleasant smile brightens his face. “Vanessa.”
“I just wanted to show my face before going upstairs.”
“I’m not happy about the way you spoke to me.” Disappointment sharpens his stare. “But I’m glad you’re back.”
“I told you, I never left.”
“But you got on the motorcycle withthat boy.”
“You only cared about me being around Dax once LJ brought him up.” Heat rises in my voice. “You don’t care about how long I’ve actually been seeing him.”
Red morphs from underneath his shirt collar and rises up his neck. “How long has this been going on?”
“It could be a day, a week, or a year. It wouldn’t matter,” I argue. “I won’t stop seeing him.”
“Yes, you will,” Dad replies, stealing some resolve. “That boy isn’t good enough for you. Not for my daughter.”
I click my tongue and pat the space over my heart. “You don’t even know him. Can’t you try to understand why he’s in my life?”
“How could I possibly understand?”
“How about listening to me for once?”
Dad sighs, standing from his chair. “This conversation is going in circles. Just promise me you won’t see him again.”
“That’s like asking me to stay chained to this house. Is that what you want?”
