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He studies my expression and my trembling hands that I cup together. His palm glides down my wrist, to my hand, in tender comfort that floods me.
“I can stay,” he whispers, and then pauses, our eyes latching like he, too, knows what this is probably about. “I should stay.”
My brothers don’t want him to. I whisper back, “I think I should do this on my own.” I’m anxious by nature, but I’m not as nervous in the company of these three men as I used to be. At the beginning, just being face-to-face with my dad, I could barely hold a drink without water shaking and spilling out.
Ryke and Lo aren’t soft, but they love me, and I know they wouldn’t hurt me, even when I’ve hurt them.
Garrison hugs me, then stakes a glare on the room. “I know she’s your sister, and your daughter.” He looks to my dad. “But just remember I’m going to be her husband. So you fuck with her, you’re dead to me.”
Ryke rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to fuck with our sister.”
“We get it,” Lo tells Garrison. “Skedaddle.” He waves him off with two running fingers.
It lightens the air a little, and Garrison leaves the private backroom with one last glance at me, making sure I’m alright.
I nudge up my glasses with a tiny smile.
Connor and Rose reluctantly follow my boyfriend—or I guess, my fiancé. We’re engaged. And on her way out, Rose grabs her fur coat and squeezes my shoulder with an iron grip.
Now I’m alone with just my older brothers and my dad. I linger awkwardly at one head of the table while they’re clustered near the other end. A few half-eaten slices of margherita pizza are left on plates, napkins wadded on the long candlelit surface. Remnants of a happy engagement dinner.
I subconsciously touch the new piece of jewelry on my finger.
And three sets of eyes drop to my engagement ring.
Tension strains the air even more.
Ryke rakes a hand across his unshaven jaw. “Look, we’re not going to ruin your fucking engagement. We just want an explanation.”
“I want to give one,” I say quietly, “but I don’t know what you’ve heard…?”
Lo grips the back of a velvet chair. “Our dad said he gave you a hundred grand, so that you could get a bunch of students to delete some video of Garrison sucker-punching another kid. And I get wanting to keep your boyfriend’s shitty night out of the press. We’ve all been there. Too many goddamn times. But out of everyone you could have gone to for help—your first choice was him.” His brows pinch in hurt and confusion. “I know you’ve always said you want to do things on your own. You don’t want handouts. But what you took was a handout from our dad, and I don’t see why you trusted him more than us.”
“We would’ve fucking helped you,” Ryke says strongly, gesturing from his chest to Lo’s.
I shift my weight, trying to hold their hard and sharp gazes. “I know you would’ve.”
Our dad narrows a jagged-edged look on his sons. “Give her a fucking break. I’m her father. She came to me for help. I helped her. You’re both blowing this shit out of proportion.”
Eyes darkened, Ryke guns him down. “Don’t stand there and act like your handouts don’t come with selfish fucking conditions.”
He chokes on a hot breath. “What conditions? All I’ve ever wanted was for her to go to an Ivy League—not some no-name business school in London—but did you hear me complain about it? No,” our dad snaps. “I applauded and sent her on her way and helped her stay there. And then when she called me needing my help again, I did with no questions asked.”
Ryke is fuming. “What about the internship with the Nubell family she took last summer? Did she want to do that or did you push her there?”
He pushed me.
I drop my gaze, ashamed.
Nubell cookies are almost as popular as Kraft and Keebler, and I spent the summer running errands for Patrick Nubell, the great-great-grandson of the company. It was a good opportunity, just not the one I really wanted.
I had the chance to intern for a big comic book publishing company in New York. Mostly due to the fact that I was related to Loren Hale, not based on my skill or resumé. I know that, but I still would’ve accepted.
In the end, I had to decline.
My dad was adamant that I take the Nubell internship. “I pulled these strings for you, Willow. It wasn’t easy.”
“She wanted that internship!” our dad shouts at Ryke. “It was a perfect experience for her future—”
“For the future you want for her!” Ryke yells.
“I want the best for my daughter,” he sneers back, eyes like blades. “I want the best for you and Loren. I want the best for my fucking children, and you’re not going to make me apologize for that!”
