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Hesitating to answer, Dad wipes some sweat off his forehead and averts his gaze. “He might be from the bank. I think he was being discreet because I asked them to.”
My eyebrows go up. “The bank? What for?”
Dad still won’t look at me when he grumbles, “I’m taking out a mortgage on the property.”
“You’re what?” I’m so stunned I jerk back, and it throws off my equilibrium.
I start to tip over.
Instinctually, I put weight on my right leg, only to realize it isn’t going to hold me up. Dad catches me by the elbow, but I’m dead weight, and I’m still going down.
For a brief second, I think I’m going to take my father to the ground with me, but then there are hands slipping under my armpits from behind.
As I’m lifted upright, I watch my dad shoot a glare over my shoulder. “I had her.”
“You didn’t.” Ellister. “She was going to fall.”
He’s right, of course, and my dad can’t say otherwise.
I guess it’s a good thing Ellister was watching me, because he came to my rescue so fast. If he hadn’t caught me, I’d be sporting a few new scrapes and bruises.
In spite of all the reasons I have to be cautious, I have the urge to melt against him. In his arms, there’s a sense of sturdiness and comfort, and I find myself leaning back on his torso, hyperaware of every single place we’re touching.
The low whisper of pain I’d been experiencing has gone silent.
With the way my pain has suddenly evaporated, I want to close my eyes and sigh with relief. I could totally purr while rubbing against this guy.
I won’t, though.
Not with my dad right here.
The moment is already awkward enough.
My dad still has ahold of my arm, and Ellister’s grip has moved to my shoulders. Neither man is letting go, and it feels a bit like a game of tug-of-war and I’m the rope.
A car honks behind us, effectively breaking up the lingering tension between Ellister, my father, and myself.
It’s my aunt Cathy and my cousin Cody. They’re trying to pull in, but they can’t because Ellister’s car is blocking the way.
Reluctantly, I step away from Ellister, pivot toward him, and I motion to the winding lane leading into the farm. “Past those trees, you’ll see parking signs in a gravel lot by a red barn. Since you’re early, my mom might try to recruit you to help with setting up,” I warn, hoping he won’t leave with the threat of being put to work.
He just nods. “I’ll see you later, Hannah Wildwood.”
With that, he’s back in his car and, yet again, inches forward like he doesn’t know how to drive it.
As Cathy rolls past us with a wave, I give her and Cody a greeting nod, then I point an accusing glare at my dad as we get back on topic. “A mortgage? Seriously?”
“I didn’t want to tell you—”
“Tell me what?” I cut him off. “That you’re gambling with your livelihood?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to gambleyou. That experimental treatment the doctor suggested might be the best option.”
“I’m not even close to qualifying for it.” Holding up my finger, I start to list off the reasons why it’s not a viable option. “I’d have to have a diagnosis first. And even if they do figure out what’s going on, it would take weeks for us to get the ball rolling. Not to mention, it’s two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars out-of-pocket, and that’s just to get into the trial. Then there’s the follow-up treatment.”
“Exactly. All our assets are tied up in this place. We need the cash on hand, and I’m making sure we have the ability to move forward with any and all plans.”
“The fundraiser—” I protest, but Dad finishes my sentence.
