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Then I can rub it in Lilah’s face.
He continues on like he has all the answers to the universe, while I sit silently and regret coming here. He picks now to practice his Dad-of-the-Year-Award speech, it seems.
While doing the superhero pose again…
“Most people believe it’s a phase. I’ll be honest, I worried as much as well. Then I saw the way he held his own with the Vincents. They’re not easy to impress, and you know that.”
Kill. Me. Now.
He squats down in front of me and snatches my hand, pulling it into his as he pats the back of it. Doing that Brady Bunch, good-dad thing that is sort of freaking me out, because he’s usually all growly and yelling.
I prefer growly and yelling. It’s like chicken noodle soup.
This is just…terrifyingly anticlimactic.
“Is this reverse psychology?” I ask him. “You know, where you try to convince me Liam is perfect for me by overly selling him, so that I’ll be less Juliette and more Julie-hell-no?”
He blinks at me.
“I couldn’t come up with someone the opposite of Juliette, so just go with it,” I prompt.
He holds my gaze, his expression so…sweet. Are there cameras here? I dart a gaze around the corners of the barn, looking for the cameras I can’t find.
Is he doing this just to piss me off? Because it’s really freaking working.
“I can’t give you assurances you seek, my darling child. But I can remind you that you’re a Wild One. Chester Perkins will never take the risks my girl will, because he doesn’t have a reckless bone in his body.”
My darling child? Seriously?
There are cameras; I just don’t see them. I bet he signed up for some reality show and this is his audition tape or something.
He stands, and I groan when I finally let the rest of his speech play over in my head. “Did you really just give that entire speech so you could make a dig at Chester?”
Laughing, he winks at me. “Just proving a point. At the end of the day, there are only four families of Wild Ones for a reason. No one else has it in them to take the risks we take for fun. Don’t guard your heart too much, Kylie. If a Vincent can fall in love, then so can a Malone.”
“So all this to take a dig at Chester and put me in competition with Lilah?” I ask incredulously.
He gives me a proud look that only leaves me groaning, then he chuckles as he walks away.
“Thanks for absolutely nothing,” I call to his back, tempted to flip him off, but then worrying he might come back and ground me or something.
I stay on the stool for a minute, then finally stand and snatch my backpack from the ground. That was an hour of my life I’ll never get back.
When my eyes come up, I see Jared leaning against the barn entrance, a look on his face that makes me realize he’s been eavesdropping.
“What?” I ask a little too defensively.
Does he know I’m desperate for them to threaten Liam? Am I that transparent?
“My parents never liked Tomahawk,” he states simply. “Not even a little.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
“Okay…”
“They hated the bugs, the wild animals, the small town, the limited amount of things to do.” He shrugs as he pockets his hands. “It stopped hurting when they left us behind instead of taking us with them. We still haven’t met our other siblings. Don’t really care to. I’m sure they’ve heard the worst about us.”
My lips purse, and I prop up as well. “They popped out four of you here, and your dad contributed to three kids there. Rabbits come to mind. Maybe they have more in common with wild animals than they realize.”
He snorts and rolls his eyes.
“The point is,” he goes on, “we reached the point when we were happy they were gone. The day we took the Malone name was the last time we looked back. George may be our uncle, but in all reality, he’s the best father we’ve ever had.”
“What does that have to do with the current price of eggs?” I ask, trying not to make a big deal of his confession, because I don’t want to make it weird.
Especially since he’s being real right now, and I came here for completely different reasons.
“If George thinks Liam is worth a shot, then I trust him. And you should too.”
He turns to leave, and I jog out to catch him.
“I’m already giving him a shot,” I tell him.
“No. You’re not,” he argues. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here asking your father to tell you what to do. You just thought he’d give you a different answer.”
He keeps walking fast, and I have to keep jogging to keep up with his long strides.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him, which causes him to stop and give me an unconvinced look. I start to tell him the true—and somewhat petty—reason I’m here, then realize how stupid he’ll feel for being nice and stuff, and decide against it. “I…wanted to hear my father’s opinion, because he’s always looked out for all of our best interests.”
