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“Very talented young man. But he’s become a bit obsessed with my daughter.”
Ian turned serious, understanding the discomfort since he had a daughter of his own.
“He asked for her hand.”
His eyebrows shot straight up. “Shit. What did you say—”
“I let her answer herself.”
“What’d she say?”
“No.”
“Fuck…that’s awkward.”
“I think she and Ethan had…a relationship…and when she tried to leave, he decided to fight harder.”
Ian masked his discomfort with another drink. “What was his plan? To get your approval to convince her to stay?”
“I don’t know. The less I know, the better.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”
“I wanted to.” I sat behind the desk, my curled knuckles underneath my jaw. The fireplace was cold because it’d been too warm for a fire. But most nights, Ivory would come for a visit while I worked, and I’d take her on the desk while the flames warmed my back. “But Ivory had a talk with me a couple years ago.”
“What kind of talk?”
“The birds and the bees—the father edition.”
Ian didn’t make any jokes, probably because he understood perfectly.
“I’ve looked the other way and stayed out of her business. Never asked her a single question about her personal life. Worked pretty well—until Ethan marched in here and got me involved.”
“That sucks.”
“That’s why I want to kill him. He forced my head out of the sand.”
He took another drink.
“What about Lila?”
“My head is buried deeper in the sand than yours.”
“I remember how we used to be when we were that age. Makes me sick.”
“Yeah.”
“But she’s my wife’s daughter, and I know she’s smart—too smart for her own good. Too smart to get her heart broken. Too smart to settle for a lesser man. I have faith that the man she chooses will be one whom I like.”
He swirled his glass and said nothing.
We remained that way for a while, just sitting in silence.
“What news do you bring?” I finally asked. “How’s HeartHolme?”
“Cold,” he said. “It’s always fucking cold.”
“The Teeth?”
