Chapter 30: Rival: Chapter 29

As soon as we left Sovereign’s, Fallon and I drove to the Waldorf Astoria for our honeymoon night. Tate thought we should all go out to dinner, but Jared got the hint.

The whole drive there, as the valet took the car, and during check-in I kept rubbing the inside of my pinky finger over the flat fit platinum wedding band. The discomfort of something new when I never wore jewelry—except for my piercing—contrasted to the hum I felt in my hand.

It was weird, but it was also powerful.

The ring reminded me that I was Fallon’s. It reminded me that I was her protector, her lover, and her partner.

Eventually it occurred to me that the ring also meant I couldn’t come and go as I like, I couldn’t look at other women, and I was probably the only person in my high school graduating class that had a wife already, but I didn’t care much about what others thought now.

I was cool with this. It was right for us.

By the time we reached the elevator, Fallon’s hands were doing things that technically weren’t allowed in public, and I was really fucking glad Jared and Tate had given us space.

Fallon had her hand under my coat, kneading my lower back. She was burying her nose in my chest as I walked with my arm around her. Her eyes were looking up at me saying everything that was in her head but couldn’t leave her lips.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, I pushed her into the wall and leaned down into her face, her hot breath rushing against mine.

“Fallon Caruthers,” I challenged, pushing hard against her body. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Her fingers started working the button of my shirt under my open jacket. “I’m sorry,” she panted against my lips. “I’m just really ready for my husband right now.”

And all at once her hands were inside my shirt, all over my bare chest, and my bottom lip was between her teeth. I grabbed her by the back of her thighs and hauled her up against the wall, diving into her mouth and tasting the raw heat that sent my cock jerking and hardening. I needed to get these fucking clothes off of her.

“And I’m not changing my name,” she said between kisses.

I felt the laugh in my throat that I thought would be a really bad idea to let loose right now.

It was my wedding night. I wanted to get laid, after all.

“Yes, you will,” I stated matter-of-factly as I put my hand between her legs and rubbed.

The elevator stopped, and I dropped her feet to the floor. Thank God no one was outside the doors, because we were flushed and breathless.

Dragging her by the arm, I dug the card key out of my coat pocket.

“Well, I’ll hyphenate it then,” Fallon mumbled behind me, and I took a second to remember she was talking about our last names.

“No, you won’t.” I slipped the key in, opened the door, and pulled her in. “Hyphenating your name is like saying ‘I just don’t want to admit defeat’ when the truth is women who hyphenate their names have already lost. Men don’t hyphenate their names.” I pointed out, slamming the door behind me as I dug my slow heels into the plush carpet, stalking her. “Now. You are going to be Fallon Caruthers, because you love me, you want to make me happy, and you want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

She had about enough time to drop her jaw and for anger to flare in her eyes before I was on her. Taking the hair at the back of her head, I pulled it down to expose her neck, and I sunk my lips and teeth in, biting and kissing so hard and soft that she wouldn’t know which end was up.

Truth was I was an easygoing guy. For the most part. But my wife would have my name, or else.

It wasn’t about controlling her, and it wasn’t about stealing her identity or whatever women liked to claim these days. It was about unity. We and our kids someday would have the same goddamn name, and that was it.

Hopefully she knew when some battles weren’t worth fighting.

And that’s when it hit me.

I pulled back and closed my eyes, running my hands through my hair.

“Shit,” I groaned. “I forgot condoms.”

I heard her sympathetic exhale that sounded almost like a laugh. I looked up, scowling. This wasn’t funny. I was harder than a rock right now.

“I’m sorry.” She waved away the angry expression on my face. “We’re fine, Madoc. I’ve been on birth control for a long time, actually. Ever since . . .”

Her eyes dropped.

The knot in my heart twisted tighter and tighter, and without hesitation, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her into the bedroom.

she was going to say.

Since I’d found out about it, I’d had a hell of a time figuring out how I felt about it. I wished we’d had the kid, but I’m glad we didn’t. Which didn’t make sense, but it kind of did.

On the one hand, I hated that Fallon had to go through that. I hated that we weren’t more careful. I hated that she was alone. I hated that someone else—someone I hate—made a decision about my kid without me.

On the other hand, I knew we were too young. I knew it probably would’ve changed our lives in a way that wouldn’t have been beneficial. I knew that I wanted a house full of kids someday, but I didn’t want them yet.

Final verdict: I’ll be a good father. And I’m glad I get to wait to find out for sure.

Setting Fallon down next to the bed, I planted my lips on her, damn near chewing on her I was in so much need, and ripped off my coat and shirt. After I’d kicked off my shoes, I started working the button and zipper of her jeans.

“No,” I growled low when she started undoing her shirt. “Leave it on. I undress you tonight.”

Slipping my hands inside the back of her jeans, I couldn’t help but run my hands up and down her smooth ass in her thong. As I pushed her pants down her legs and bent down to slide her shoes and jeans off, I breathed out a long breath, thankful she wasn’t doing anything right now.

As much as I wouldn’t change the nights we spent together years ago, I needed to redeem myself. A little more, at least. Going after her like a starving pubescent teen who can’t hold his load wasn’t how this night was going to go.

She wore a tiny black thong, and her white blouse fell just below her hips. She looked down at me, heat and patience in her eyes, and just waited for me to make my move.

Unbuttoning her shirt, I felt the quick and shallow rise and fall of her chest under my hands. Sliding it down her arms, I kept it clenched in my fist and tightened as I felt a surge of blood rush to my cock.

She wore a matching black see-through bra, which I didn’t expect. The white blouse didn’t reveal it. Her breasts were perfectly visible through the sheer material, and I rubbed my hand over her hard nipple.

I touched her face, my thumb running along her bottom lip. “You’re a dream.”

She opened her mouth and took my thumb in, sucking on the length, drawing it out slowly. Every nerve in my body hummed like it had just fallen asleep.

Taking my hand back, I reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, pulling it forward and letting it drop to the floor. Then I took the blouse still in my hand and threw it behind her and slipped it up her arms again.

As I met her eyes, I saw the question there, but what can I say? I used to give her crap about her clothes and how much she’d hide, but it turns out I liked girls with mystery.

Pushing her down to the bed with a soft hand, I guided her to lay back and then slid her thong down her legs.

Coming to hover over her, seeing one of her breasts peeking out of the open shirt, I couldn’t help my strained voice. “I want to see you in this shirt tonight, Fallon. In only this shirt. All night and every time I make you come.”

Her eyebrows pinched together, but before she had a chance to say anything, I slipped a finger into her scorching heat, loving the little moan that came out of her and the way her head fell back.

Everywhere my finger touched was like a shot to my groin. She coated my middle finger so tight that it felt like it was in glove. I pushed in and out, completely turned on by how she pushed into my hand, grinding for more. Her moans turned to mewls, and I added another finger, barely feeling the strain in my other arm as I supported myself.

Her closed eyes and lips were tensed, and the sharp breaths coming out of her were the only sound in the room.

In my fingers went and out they came, wet and needy as I continued my rhythm and started circling her wet clit with my thumb. Her hips rolled faster and faster, sliding into my hand for more.

“Are you coming, Fallon?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered, breathing hard. “More, faster.” She sucked in a breath, crying out.

Sliding in faster and harder, I watched as she slammed up and down, falling into a rhythm with my hand. Every thrust and exhale was like a plea.

“Damn, baby. Look at you.” I swallowed, knowing she was almost there. Knowing she couldn’t go any faster.

Diving as deep as I could go, I sunk my fingers into her and held them there, massaging her insides in circles.

“Oh, God!” she cried, arching off the bed in waves as she came all over my hand. Throwing her head back two times, she drew in quick, ragged breaths as I held my fingers inside of her and rubbed my thumb over her clit again and again.

Everything about her was gorgeous. Hovering right over her, I whispered, “Fallon.”

She blinked her eyes open, the aftershocks of the orgasm still straining her face and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You were my first everything. And my only love.”

I wanted her to know that. Even through all the years, the separation, the pain, I wanted her to know that she was the only one I’d loved.

Sitting up, she held my face in her hands. “No one can stop us now.” But it sounded more like a battle cry than a fact. It was like she was saying “Yeah, we’re married, and you can’t take that.” But also “Go ahead and try.”

I caught her lips and slipped my tongue into her mouth, kissing her fiercely with every muscle in my body tight.

Pulling away, I stood up and stripped out of the rest of my clothes. Her eyes shot down to my erection, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the shirt draped over her braless chest.

Coming down on her, I flattened her on the bed and didn’t stop kissing her as I worked my cock into her entrance. Dipping inside—just barely—I slipped back out, bringing her wetness with me and swirled my top around her clit. The vibration of her groan hit my lips, and I entered her again—only halfway—and pulled out, rubbing the tip of my dick around her hard nub again.

“Madoc?” she whimpered, sounding pained. “I’m not a piano. Stop playing me.”

I grinned and entered her again, taking each centimeter of her slowly. “Am I too heavy?” I asked, putting all of my weight on her.

When I had sex, I usually didn’t favor missionary. Other positions felt better and allowed you a better view of the woman’s body, but this time was different. I wanted to feel her everywhere.

She shook her head under my kiss. “No, I love it.” Her hands scaled down my back and pulled my hips deeper into her. “Right there,” she begged. “Just like that.”

I put my forehead to hers and inhaled the breaths she was letting loose. Her chest—the parts that peeked out of the shirt—were moist with sweat, and the friction of her hot skin was sending me reeling. My dick was slick with her, sliding in and out faster with her urgent hands pulling me in harder.

Fuck, she was so damn needy, and it was turning me on. I wasn’t going to last long. Grabbing her thighs, I rolled us over so that she was on top. Her shirt had fallen off one shoulder, and one breast lay bare. As much as I wanted to touch her, I just watched her move. Holding onto her hips only, I kept my eyes glued to her grinding on me, the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, and her exposed skin glistening with sweat.

“Oh, God!” she cried out, riding me faster.

I groaned, shutting my eyes. “Come on, baby.”

The tingles spreading throughout my body weren’t going to hold off. I was too damn turned on, and she was too damn hot.

“Madoc.” Her pained whisper shot right to my heart, and I arched up off the bed, pushing up into her as hard as I could.

“Ahhh.” And she came apart, jerking and moaning, and I let go as well, releasing everything inside her and thrusting up again and again.

My eyebrows remained pinched and my eyes shut. My body was anything but relaxed right now.

I’d never come inside of a woman without a condom before.

Except Fallon. Years ago.

No wonder the consequences could be bad. There was always a price on something that felt that good.

Fallon collapsed on my chest, and for a while, we just stayed silent and tried to calm down.

But then she whispered into my neck. “Fallon Caruthers, then.”

And I flipped her on her back, ready for round two.

•   •   •

We stayed tangled together in the hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, finally pulling ourselves out of each other’s asses—no pun intended—to have a conversation.

“Well, I do have a little money. My father pays my tuition up front and puts extra funds in my account for spending money. It’s not much but enough to set up an apartment.”

I kept my lids shut but gave her my attention. “What about your tuition for next year? Won’t you need the money for that?”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds but then answered. “We’ll figure it out.”

I had to chew the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, but it didn’t work. The rumble escaped my chest, and I let out a soft laugh.

“What?”

I sighed, still not looking at her. “Fallon, baby, we’re fine. We will have no money problems if our parents cut us off,” I finally told her.

“What do you mean?” Her tone was more abrupt.

“I mean we’re fine.” I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

When she said nothing and didn’t press, I opened one eye and peered at her staring at me over her laptop. She looked like she was about to start boiling.

I exhaled an annoyed breath and leaned on my side, propping myself up with my elbow. Grabbing her laptop I logged in to my account and then turned the laptop back to her, showing her the screen.

I didn’t wait to see her expression before I lay back down and closed my eyes.

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed quietly. “Is this . . . your savings account?”

I grunted.

“All of this money is yours?” she pressed, sounding like she didn’t believe me. “Your dad doesn’t have access to it?”

“Most of the money in there has nothing to do with my father. My mom’s family is wealthy in their own right. She gave me my inheritance when I graduated high school,” I explained.

I rarely touched the money in my bank account. My father made sure all of my expenses were paid, and I had a credit card for things I didn’t have cash for. He liked to see what I was up to, so the credit card statements came in handy to him when he wasn’t around to see what I did with my days. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust me. He did. I just think looking at my purchases made him feel like a part of my life and let him feel like he was in control.

“Your mother gave an eighteen-year-old this much money?”

I snapped my eyes back open, coming back to the now.

Looking over at Fallon, I scowled with mock hurt. “Hey, I’m trustworthy. You know that.” I laughed at her arched eyebrows and continued. “My father also gave me a third of my trust when I started college, so that’s some of the money in there, too. I get another third when I graduate and another third when I turn thirty. But even if I don’t get those two-thirds, obviously, we’re going to be fine.” I waved my hand at the laptop, referring to the balance in my account. “You’ll go back to school next Monday, I’ll withdraw from Notre Dame and transfer, and we’ll get an apartment here in Chicago.”

I locked my hands behind my head and waited for her to say something. It made me feel happy she actually risked giving up her security for me, but that would never have to happen.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You’ve had this worked out all day, haven’t you?”

“Of course, I have.” I flashed her a boyish smile. “You think I’d give myself a wife to take care of and not have a plan?”

Leaning up, I slipped my hand around her neck and brought her in. But as her eyes closed for the kiss she was no doubt expecting, I flicked her nose with my tongue instead and plopped back down, closing my eyes.

“Just don’t try to divorce me and take half,” I threatened.

“Ugh, that was gross,” she whined, probably wiping my spit off her face.

I heard the laptop close and the bed move as she climbed on top of me, straddling my waist. I went to place my hands on her thighs, but she grabbed them and pinned them to the side of my head.

“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’m exhausted. I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

But it was too late. Her weight on me and her heat on my stomach already had me rolling my hips into hers as her moist breath sent a silver shot down to my groin.

Shit.

I was fully hard now, and I needed some damn sleep. Didn’t want sleep but needed it. Her mouth darted up to my neck, and she sunk her teeth in. I opened for her.

“Baby.” I choked out a groan. “I never want to leave this room. Take my T-shirt off your body. Now.”

Pounding on the door sounded from the other room, and we both jerked our heads toward the noise.

“Madoc Caruthers?” a stiff voice called.

Fallon turned her wide eyes to me, and I sat up, setting her to the side of the bed.

Walking toward the door, I shook my head in dawning realization. I should’ve had Jared register the room. I’d been smart enough not to use my credit card, but I never thought my father would take the time to call the hotels of Chicago looking for me.

“Yes?” I asked, opening the door and then immediately dropping my fucking jaw.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” a lean black officer said with his hand resting on his baton. I didn’t take that as a threat. Maybe I should? The other cop was a female. Middle-aged with red hair.

“What’s this about?”

The lady cop tipped her chin at me. “Is Fallon Pierce with you?”

My heart started thumping.

“Yes,” I finally answered.

“Your stepsister, right?” the male cop confirmed.

I hooded my eyes and sighed. “For the moment, yes. Our parents are getting a divorce.”

“What’s going on?” Fallon asked, stepping up to my side. She was dressed in jeans and her white blouse from yesterday tucked in. All of the clothing that had been sitting in a ball on the floor for the past twenty-four hours. She also had her glasses on.

“Are you Fallon Pierce?”

Fallon crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“Your mother reported you missing yesterday morning,” Redhead explained. “She says she was threatened by Mr. Caruthers, claiming he said he was going to . . .” She looked at her notes and continued. “‘Put her through a wall.’ And then you were taken.”

Both cops looked at me, and I wanted to laugh. Fallon turned to me with a smirk on her face, and as serious as cops visiting your door is, we started laughing.

The officers exchanged a look as my chest shook and Fallon covered her smile with her hand.

“Did you threaten Mrs. Caruthers, sir?”

Which Mrs. Caruthers? I felt like asking, but I resisted. No one would know about our marriage yet, and our parents had to find out from us and no one else if we were going to be taken seriously.

“Officers,” I assured, “these are family issues. I would never have touched my stepmother. Fallon is here of her own free will, and there is no problem.”

“Mr. Caruthers,” the male cop started. “We know who your father is—”

But then all hell broke loose. A woman and her cameraman rushed up behind the police officers and stuck a microphone between them in my direction. I reared back, and Fallon grabbed my hand.

“Madoc Caruthers?” the woman shouted, stumbling into the cops. “Son of Jason Caruthers? Are you having an affair with your stepsister? Her mother claims you kidnapped her?”

My fucking heart lodged like a baseball in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.

I swallowed, looking down at Fallon.

“Now, that’s enough!” one of the officers growled, both turning around and holding up their hands to shield us from the intrusion.

What the hell? My dad was a big deal, but not that big of a deal. Someone had to have tipped these people off.

The female cop kept her voice calm. “Let’s get this under control. You’re interfering with police business.”

“Is he holding you against your will?” The reporter shook her brown bangs out of her eyes, looking intense and determined.

I leaned over to grab the door to close it, but Fallon barked.

“Stop,” she ordered. “He’s not . And he’s not holding me against my will, for Christ’s sake! And we’re not having some sordid relationship. He’s my . . .”

“. . . husband!” she finished.

I closed my eyes, wincing, and let out a low groan.

I shoved Fallon back, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut, hearing the cops ordering the reporter and her cameraman away.

Locking the door, I slid down the wall next to it and crashed to my ass.

Knees bent, I rested my forearms on them and banged my head against the wall once.

“Awesome.” I breathed in and out, barely noticing that Fallon stayed where I’d pushed her out of the way.

My fists clenched, and I was sure my face was beet red. I felt stupid. Why did I always underestimate Patricia?

“Oh, my God,” she finally said, looking dazed. “That was creepy. My mother’s insane.”

“No, she’s smart,” I said flatly. “We just made the news and embarrassed my father.”

Her head fell, and she walked over and sat down next to me.

“Madoc, I’m sorry. I panicked.”

I put my arms around her. “It’s okay. I guess we don’t have to worry about making the rounds to the parents anymore.”

Everyone—and I mean everyone—was going to know I was married by the time they went to sleep tonight. There would be no end to the texts and calls for a while as my family and friends would all want to know what was going on.

“How did they know we were here?” she asked.

“I registered under my name.” I sounded less embarrassed than I actually was. “Your mom wouldn’t have had to work too hard to find us if she found out we weren’t at school.”

Her chest fell hard. “That’s going to be on the eleven o’clock news.”

“And it’ll be on the Internet in about five minutes. Media outlets have to compete with the speed of Facebook, after all. They’ll have that loaded up in no time.”

I sat there, quiet and stunned, trying to figure out what to do next.

“Look at me,” she urged.

I did and fell back into the comfort of her green eyes.

“We can’t stay here,” she stated. “Where should we go?”

Leaning my head back, I licked my lips, thinking.

Fallon and I did nothing wrong. We weren’t running away just so we could have a mini-honeymoon. And we weren’t starting our marriage fearing our parents’ wrath. If we wanted to be respected as adults, then we had to face the music.

I stood up, pulling her after me. “Home,” I said. “We’re going home.”

•   •   •

It was about ten o’clock by the time we rolled into the driveway at my house. The pitch-black sky exploded with stars, and the conifer trees Addie had had planted so that we could have green all year bent with the light wind.

The cops had come back to our room for a few remaining questions.

Yes, Fallon and I are married. Here’s the signed license.

No, I did not kidnap her, of course. See? No bruises, and she’s smiling.

Yes, I threatened my stepmom, and I’m using the “daddy” card on this one. You can’t touch me, because I’m Madoc Caruthers.

Now, please go. We’re honeymooning.

They left, we showered and got presentable, and we drove the hour it took to get to Shelburne Falls.

“Wait,” I ordered when Fallon started to open her door.

Getting out and rounding the front, I let her out of the car, took her hand, and walked side by side with her to the front step.

I took her chilled face in my hands. “We’re not raising our voices, and we’re not apologizing.”

She nodded and together we entered the house.

The foyer and all of the rooms off it were dark, and the house hummed with only the sounds of clocks ticking and heat pouring out of the vents. The smell of grilled steaks and leather hit me, and I immediately felt at home. It’s what my house always smelled like.

I remembered that Tate once said she loved the smell of tires. It brought back memories for her, and it was familiar. When I smelled grilled meat, I always thought of summers out by the pool. My mom asking me if I wanted another Crush. My dad—on the occasions he was home—working the grill and talking to his friends. And me seeing the fireworks light up in the star-filled sky.

Despite the issues my family had—all families have issues—I was a happy kid. Things could’ve been better, but they were good enough, and I never wanted for anything. There was never a shortage of people to dote on me.

This house was my home, and with it came all of my good memories. Whenever I escaped, this is where I wanted to run first.

Patricia Caruthers could take our name, take the money, but I’d be dead before she took this house. I had to find some way to beat her.

I didn’t know if my dad was in bed, but I knew he was here. His Audi was in the driveway.

Hand in hand, Fallon and I walked down the hall and veered to the left, coming up to his office.

“Do you think our children hate us?” a woman’s voice asked, and I halted.

I motioned for Fallon to stay quiet by putting my finger over my lips, and we both leaned into the cracked door, listening.

“I don’t know,” my father answered, sounding resigned. “I guess I wouldn’t blame Madoc if he did. Does Jared love you?”

That’s who he was talking to.

“I think so,” she said softly. “And if he got married tomorrow, I’d be worried as hell, but I’d know he was following his heart. I mean, look at us, Jason. Who’s to say they can’t make it at eighteen when we failed long after that age? Are we experts?”

Invisible hands wrung out my stomach like a washcloth. My dad knew I was married.

I heard hard footsteps. “It’s not about that. It’s about priorities, Katherine. My son needs to finish college. He needs to experience life. He’s been given the gifts of privilege and opportunity. Now he has a distraction.”

I took Fallon’s hand and held her eyes with mine.

There was some shuffling around the office, and then I heard the wheels of my father’s desk chair shift as he let out a huge breath. He must’ve sat down. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to figure out if he was angry or upset. I couldn’t tell. I heard a grunt and some more heavy breathing. It sounded like hyperventilating. But not.

“I messed up.” His voice caught, and I heard the tears.

“Shh, Jason. Don’t.” Katherine started to cry as well.

, I thought.

My chest got heavy, and I looked down to see Fallon’s thumb rubbing back and forth on my hand. When I looked up, her chin was quivering.

“My house is empty, Katherine.” His voice was so sad. “I want him home.”

“We weren’t good parents,” she choked out. “Our kids have paid for our lifestyle, and now it’s our turn to pay for theirs. He’s got a girl that he can’t stay away from. They’re not doing this to hurt you, Jason. They’re in love.” And I smiled at her words. “If you want your son back,” she continued, “you need to open your arms wider.”

I clasped Fallon’s hand tighter and whispered, “I need a few minutes alone.”

Her watery eyes sparkled, and she nodded her understanding. Walking past me, she headed for the kitchen.

Pushing the door open, I saw my father in his desk chair, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. Katherine was kneeling in front of him, comforting him, I assumed.

“Ms. Trent?” I called, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “Can I talk to my dad alone, please?”

Both of their heads popped up, and Katherine stood.

She looked beautiful in a cream-colored forties-style house dress with red polka dots on it. Her chocolate dark brown hair—the same shade as Jared’s—hung over her shoulders in loose curls, but pieces were brought up in two barrettes on each side of the top of her head.

My father, on the other hand, was a mess. Disheveled hair he’d probably been running his fingers through, a wrinkled white shirt, blue silk tie hanging loose, and he’d definitely been crying.

He sat there, unmoving, and actually looking a little afraid of me.

Katherine cleared her throat. “Of course.”

I stepped out of the doorway as she walked past, but I reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. I kissed her cheek and gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks,” I whispered.

Her eyes shined, and she nodded before leaving.

My father hadn’t moved from his chair, and I did a sweep of the room, remembering that I was never allowed in here as a kid. My father wasn’t hiding things. Not in here anyway. But he once said “his whole life” was in this room, and it wasn’t a place for kids.

I think that was the first time I realized that I wasn’t my dad’s top priority. There were things he loved more than me.

But looking at him now . . . his weary eyes, his physical strain, and the silence that told me he didn’t know what to say to me offered up a different conclusion.

Maybe my dad cared.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward him. “I never liked you, Dad.” I spoke slowly, taking my time. “You worked too much, and you never showed up when you said would. You made my mother cry, and you thought money could fix everything. And the worst part is that you’re not stupid. You knew the void you left in your family, but you did it anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes, challenging him to say something. Anything to account for himself.

But his eyes had dropped to the desk with my first words, and they had stayed there.

So I continued, straightening my shoulders more. “I love Fallon. And I love this house. I want you in my life, but if you’re going to throw your weight around like it matters, then you can go to hell.” I paused, coming up in front of the desk. “We don’t need you. But I do love you, Dad.”

My jaw tightened, and I blinked away the sting in my eyes.

He raised his eyes, and it was a look I’d never seen before. They shimmered with tears, but they were hard. My father wanted to fight.

In his head he worried about my education, Fallon and me having jobs, dealing with marriage when we were still growing up, but that’s what he didn’t notice.

I’d stopped growing up when Fallon left.

And I started again when she came home.

You have to have something to love. Something to fight for to make living a goal instead of a job. Fallon wouldn’t keep me from tomorrow. My father had done that.

I held his stare, ready for whatever he wanted to throw at me, but he should know better. If he didn’t support us, we were doing it without him.

Finally standing up, he ran his hands through his hair and tightened his tie. I watched him as he went to his safe, dialed in the combination, and took out some papers. Returning to his desk, he signed the document and handed it to me over the desk.

I hesitated. It was probably a new will leaving me in the cold or some such bullshit.

“I’m keeping the other two-thirds of your trust and doling it out as was already planned,” he explained. “But here’s a wedding gift . . . if we can fight hard enough to keep it.”

Confused, I unfolded the papers again, and a sliver of a smile escaped my lips.

“The house?” I asked, surprised.

He’d given me the deed to the house, but it wasn’t in my name. Excitement and confusion rushed through my very clouded brain.

Did I want the house?

Forever and ever and ever?

I loved it here, and so did Fallon. If we could keep it in Caruthers hands, we would. But what did this mean for my father? I didn’t necessarily want him gone.

Kind of.

No, not really.

“Patricia’s trying to take the house. I’m sure you know.” My father’s eyes clouded in an expression I was more familiar with. “But I’ll drag her through court for as long as I can. It may take a year, but I’ll win. The house is in my name, but as my wife, she has rights to it until a court says she doesn’t. I’ll transfer the house to you officially when I take away that threat.” He stood up straight, reaching out his hand to me. “But the house is yours for all intents and purposes. I know you and Fallon—and Addie—love it here, and I want you to have your home.

I took his hand, and the furious flow of blood through my veins relaxed. I wasn’t sure if my father was really giving up, if he was just that tired of drama, or if he was bluffing.

But when I looked at him, I saw his relaxed eyes turn bleary, and before I knew it I was yanked in for a hug.

“Whoa,” I grunted against the crush of his arms and almost laughed. I wasn’t sure if this was a joke or if it was supposed to be funny, but rare and weird things are funny. To me.

But as I tried to catch my breath, I kind of realized that my dad wasn’t letting go. His arms were as tight as steel around me, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged me.

And I don’t think it was ever this tight.

I found my arms slowly wrapping around him and returning the embrace.

“Katherine’s right.” He stepped back and squeezed my shoulders. “You can’t stay away from her, can you?”

“If you could go back with Katherine and redo things—”

He nodded. “Then you and Jared would’ve been stepbrothers a long, long time ago,” he finished, understanding.

“I won’t live with those regrets. I’m doing this, Dad.” I held my position. “We’ll be fine.”

Fearing the breakup of his marriages or contending with Katherine’s alcoholism in the past were things my father had let get in his way. From him I learned that mistakes can be dealt with. Loss of time can’t.

He slapped me on the back and let out a heavy breath. “So where’s Fallon?”