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My skin tingled at his threat. The last time my father had to retrieve me from somewhere, he made it a public spectacle. Chastised me in public and dragged me out of Cassie’s by my arm. I had fled to her house the first time my parents tried to marry me off. I ran to her house and stayed for the weekend, and when I refused to come home my father drove over, yanked me out of the house by my arm, and forbid me to leave the house for the rest of the month. If I wanted visitors, they came over, and the only place we were allowed was the sitting room.
But if he went to Cassie’s this time and found I wasn’t there, I knew I would suffer worse.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be home shortly.”
“It’s about time you started obeying. No husband of yours is going to want to chase behind you whenever you run because things get tough,” my father said.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Understood.”
I hung up the phone and sighed. I had all my stuff in my car. What was keeping me from just going on to California? It was obvious my parents hadn’t looked for me enough to see that most of my stuff was missing from my closet, so what the hell did they care? My father was a control freak, and I knew he would stop at nothing to shove me into the mold he’d created for my life. And if I ran to California while he was in tracking mode, he would stop at nothing until I was back within his grasp.
What the hell was I thinking? That I could just run away and my family would forget about me? I was the only daughter. My father’s prized possession. I
t was my legacy to be the most graceful, most beautiful, and most appetizing woman on the planet. That was what people expected of Harold Lucas’ only daughter, and that was what my father was determined to give them.
I closed my eyes as Travis’s voice hit my ears.
“You know you don’t have to go back.”
I snickered and shook my head.
“And what would you know about that?” I asked.
“Do you love him?” he asked.
“Do I love some banker who’s twice my age and allergic to dust mites? Hardly,” I said.
“Then you shouldn’t go back.”
“It’s not that easy,” I said.
“Running away was that easy.”
“Until my father begins to track me down. He won’t stop until I’m home,” I said.
“It’s not your responsibility to marry that guy. Or to date, for that matter.”
“Tell that to my father,” I said, snickering.
“Okay. Hand me your phone.”
I turned around and looked at Travis leaning against the kitchen counter. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were stern against mine. He frowned underneath the thick beard that covered his face and his flannel shirt was riddled with oil. But he stood tall and strong. Proud and confident.
My ears warmed as my eyes raked up and down his body.
“It took a lot of guts to do what you did,” Travis said. “Packing all your stuff and running away. You don’t have the tools necessary to figure out what you’re doing, but you’re determined to do it anyway.”
“I most certainly am capable of creating a life for myself,” I said.
“That’s not what I said. You don’t have the tools to create your own business. I never said anything about a life of your own. That you can do. But you have to face your family head-on to do it.”
“Wonderful observation, Sherlock. Got anything else for me?” I asked.
“If you don’t want their life, don’t go back,” he said.
“Easier said than done.”
“And you’ve already done the hardest part. Just get in your car and keep going toward California. That was your goal, right?”
