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“And I guess I had a lot I needed to hear. You wrote this a while ago,” I note before setting my phone back down on the granite countertop in front of me.
“I had a few things I needed to do before moving back.”
“Like what?” The barstool swivels until I’m facing Owen head-on.
“Like selling my house. Getting Grady’s mom to sign over her rights. Finding a home here. Enrolling Grady in your class. Those things.”
“You knew Grady would be in my class?” I ask, my surprise evident.
He smirks, and it makes my stomach do a backflip. “I knew he’d be at your school, and when I found out you taught the same grade, I requested it, yeah. How else did you think I’d convince you to talk to me?”
Sneaky bastard.
“But you didn’t go to parent’s night,” I remind him.
Pushing himself away from the doorway, he strides closer. “I was a coward. I needed a little more liquid courage like the night I wrote you that long-ass message.”
“Except Grady got into a fight before you could find it.”
“Damn right, he did.” Owen’s chest swells with pride. “Best rule he ever broke.”
I smile. “I do love him, you know.”
“He loves you.”
My emotions feel like they’re overflowing from every pore as I choke out, “And I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmurs before his calloused hand tickles my cheek. “Do you believe me now? That I’m not going to leave at the drop of a hat? That I’m done with all the outside bullshit if it takes me away from you and Grady?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” His touch disappears for an instant before he wraps his arms around my waist and yanks me up from my chair before plastering our chests together. Like he can’t get close enough to me. T
he same way I can’t get close enough to him. Especially after reading his message.
“I’m going to kill my dad,” I admit.
He shakes his head. “You promised.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“The terms were right there,” he argues before reciting them from memory. “If you continue to read this message, then you’re agreeing not to kill your father.”
Rolling my eyes, I counter, “That’s hardly a binding contract.”
He tsks, “Uh-uh, Saylor Swenson. Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. You’re not allowed to be mad at him.”
“But I am allowed to ask why he meddled in our relationship,” I counter before wiggling out of his grasp to look up at him.
He rubs his hand across his face. “If you feel like you need to confront him, then I support you. But I want you to know that your dad and I already talked it out. He apologized––”
“To you,” I point out.
“He was ashamed, Say. For the shit he put you through. For the shit he put us both through,” Owen corrects himself. “But he didn’t mean to. He was just trying to protect you.”
“I know that. It just….” My teeth dig into the pad of my thumb as I try to let go of all the pain and frustration that could’ve been prevented if it weren’t for my dad sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.
“Trust me, Saylor. He’d give anything to take it back. He told me about how hard it was to watch you hurting. It gutted him.”
