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“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see how long Roman drags the divorce out and how much debt I rack up.” I toe the concrete. “But I’ll figure it out.”
“Okay. Do you need a good lawyer?”
I can’t afford Father’s lawyers. “No, I have one.”
He hesitates like he isn’t sure whether he should hug me, pat my head, or just walk away. “Okay, then.” He picks walking away.
“Why did you come here?” I call after him.
He turns and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s looking at me like he’s having trouble recognizing me. “I wanted to see if you’re serious about the divorce or if it’s a plea for attention.”
“Would it matter? A plea for attention would’ve meant something was wrong.”
Chagrinned, he nods. “You’re right. You weren’t an overly dramatic kid. I shouldn’t have thought that.”
He shouldn’t have, but he’s willing to admit it. I want to reassure him. “I’ve never been more serious about anything, not even dancing.” A thought occurs to me, and indignation lines my veins. “Did you think the stalking thing and the accidents are because I’m crying for help?”
He studies me, but he doesn’t deny the thought. “I don’t know, Penni. I don’t know you.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Perhaps… Perhaps we could work on that.”
“If you want to.” How? I can’t meet him at work—in the same building Roman works in. Father’s working when he’s at home. Do I practice my steps in the corner of his office until he chases me out?
His brows arch together. “I’ll be in touch.” He pivots on an expensive heel and gets into his car.
I watch him drive away. It’s the most we’ve talked since I married Roman. If I get nothing but debt from the divorce, it’ll be worth it. But a closer relationship with my parents is more than I could’ve asked for.
“Ready to go in?”
I yelp and jump. Cannon’s behind me, his brows rose. “Situational awareness, swan. You need to work on it.”
Irritation blows through me like the Santa Ana winds but dies down quickly. I’m sick of being scared. He has a point. “Then why don’t you teach me?”
He doesn’t break eye contact. “Tell me what’s around you right now.”
I scrunch my nose. “The house. The road.”
“The gate is open. You can hear it rolling shut if you listen close enough. I’m going to check your mom’s cameras to make sure no one snuck through. The vehicles parked by the garage are the housekeeper’s car and the pool maintenance van. The housekeeper is here late because it’s Wednesday and she does a deep clean once a month. Your mother schedules it with the pool maintenance to keep from disrupting two weeknights.”
I…don’t know any of that.
“Situational awareness starts by paying attention. You’re a woman, right?”
“Last time I checked,” I say sarcastically.
His eyes darken, then it’s gone. “You’ve been taught tricks from the beginning—both consciously and unconsciously. Don’t run after dark. Carry your keys with the points sticking between your fingers when you’re walking through the parking lot. Don’t park by alleyways or outside the light of the streetlight.”
I nod, seeing his point. Those were facts of life even a rich girl like me learned shortly after I started college.
“Extend those precautions to every part of your life. Where are your exits? Is anyone acting odd? You’re surrounded by ninety-nine percent of people going about their day. The other one percent is going to stick out. Take note.”
“How did you know about the attackers? It was like you knew they were coming.”
“Observation isn’t just about what you see. Use all your senses. They didn’t mask their steps, and they weren’t whispering. The parking lot had almost no one moving around it. That meant there was shit going down where I couldn’t see, and I was prepared for that shit to come our way.”
“Oh.” It sounds simple, but I haven’t thought about it at all. “What about self-defense?”
