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“Charles,” I tell the driver, feeling defeated. “We are heading to San Diego.”
This is just a battle, the war isn’t over yet. I’m fighting for her, even if she doesn’t know it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Spencer
Thefrontdoorslamsbehind me, the vibration reverberating throughout the house. I’m fuming as I toss my bag onto the living room floor, a direct result of Percival’s incessant meddling. He just can’t seem to comprehend that I’m not some helpless damsel in distress who needs his constant intervention. I’m an independent woman, and I don’t need anyone to hold my hand through life.
“Spencer, is everything alright?” Aunt Orla’s stern figure appears at the kitchen threshold. I can see her graying hair tied up in a bun and her thick glasses perched on her nose. “What are you doing here?”
“Fine, just had a run-in with Percival,” I sign, trying to look nonchalant about it. My agitation must be more evident than I thought as Aunt Fiona appears in the doorway, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” she asks, her warm eyes searching mine for answers.
I sigh, knowing I can’t hide anything from these two. “Percival’s been trying to force me to see a doctor about my hearing loss. He thinks he knows what’s best for me, but I don’t want his help. I just want to live my life independently and not rely on anyone else.”
Orla and Fiona exchange worried glances before Orla speaks up. “We understand your desire for independence, Spencer, but sometimes it’s necessary to accept help when offered.”
“Especially when it comes from someone who genuinely cares about you,” Fiona adds, her expression gentle yet firm.
We had this conversation before. Several times, indeed. Feeling defensive, I start. “I don’t need his help or anyone else’s. I’ve managed just fine on my own all these years.”
“Nobody is saying you haven’t, dear child,” Fiona says soothingly, approaching me with open arms. “But life doesn’t have to be a one-woman show. There’s strength in allowing others to support you.”
“Besides,” Orla chimes in, “he probably feels indebted to you for saving his life. Letting him help might ease his conscience.”
“He has done enough,” I counter.
“You saved his life,” Aunt Orla insists. “Plus, I think the man has other reasons.” She remarks, moving her eyebrows.
Of course, Percival Hills has his reasons for doing that. I chew on my lip considering their words. Deep down, I know they’re right. But pride has always been one of my biggest hurdles, and it’s hard to let go of the need to prove myself.
“Alright,” I relent, “I’ll think about it. But I’m not making any promises.”
Aunt Fiona envelops me in a warm hug, her softness a comforting contrast to my stubborn resistance. As she pulls away, she smiles at me with that twinkle in her eye that always seems to say, ‘things have a way of working themselves out.’
“Take your time, Spencer. And remember, accepting help doesn’t make you weak or dependent. It just means you’re surrounded by people who love you.”
With a deep breath, I nod. Perhaps it’s time to let my guard down, even if only a little.
Just as I’m about to respond, the front door swings open, and Gianna bursts in, her wild, curly hair bouncing with each step. Her infectious laugh fills the room as she spots me surrounded by my aunts. “Well, well, what’s all this? Family meeting without me?” she teases.
“Gianna, we were just discussing Spencer’s situation,” Fiona explains, her tone warm and welcoming.
“Ah, yes. The great debate on whether to accept help,” Gianna says, nodding sagely. She walks over to me and drapes an arm around my shoulders, her presence always exuding a sense of adventure. “You know, Spence, there’s no shame in needing a little assistance now and then. Even the most independent among us can’t do everything alone.”
I sigh, feeling slightly cornered but knowing they all have my best interests at heart. My mind races, weighing their words against my own stubbornness. “I get what you’re all saying. It’s just… it’s hard for me to let go and trust others to take care of things.”
“Nobody’s asking you to give up control completely,” Orla reassures me. “But sometimes, accepting help is a part of growing. And who knows? Maybe this doctor can truly make a difference in your life.”
“Maybe,” I concede, still feeling uncertain but willing to entertain the idea. “But I won’t compromise who I am. I’ll always be independent, with or without help from others.”
“Come on, Spence,” Gianna chimes in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re always the one taking care of everyone else. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change.”
As she nudges me playfully with her elbow, I can’t suppress a smile. Gianna has a way of making everything seem lighter, even when life feels unbearably heavy. Her laughter, infectious and freeing, fills the room like a wild breeze, ruffling my hair and tickling my ears.
“Besides,” she continues, a teasing grin spreading across her face, “who could resist a little pampering from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Shirtless himself?”
