Somehow, despite all the time and how much I say that I’m over it, that hurts.
Does he not feel anything anymore? Did he ever?
“You can’t be serious,” my father growls. Fury doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion behind his words.
Lachlan’s eyes narrow. “I’m very serious. There’s no need to be insulting.”
“You’re asking—”
“Not asking,” Connor says casually. There’s danger in his tone and the way he leans forward a little, the muscles in his arms flexing with the motion.
“We don’t trust you,” Lachlan says quietly. “We need insurance. It’s simple.”
It’s simple, but it makes no sense. I don’t know what my father has done to make them distrust him, and I don’t know why this is the solution.
Marry Aiden?
He had me once. He held my heart. I let him hold it, gave him my time and my love. I believed he could be gentle with me, that he truly loved me more than anything else in his life.
He crushed me. He squeezed everything out of my heart and when he was done, I was broken.
I hated him.
I hated him for what he did, hated him for taking advantage of every good thing I offered him. I was so ready to give myself, so ready to get something good in return. All I got in the end was pain.
I thought I moved past all of this when I left for college. I went on a handful of dates, and focused on my schoolwork and my future. I figured out who I was and what I want. I told myself that if I ever came back, if I ever saw him, we’d be adults. We’d have new lives, new perspectives. Things would be awkward, but we could move past it. We could admit what we did wrong.
He could admit what he did to me.
Seeing Aiden now, I know there was no kind of apology on his tongue, in his mind, in his heart. He still doesn’t see anything to apologize for.
If anything, he would hurt me even more if he had the chance.
He’s doing it now.
I can’t do it. The realization hits me hard, and I try to swallow past the rock forming in my throat. I don’t know what is at stake, but I can’t marry Aiden. Never.
My father stares back at Lachlan. “This can’t be the only way. You realize how outdated this is.”
“We prefer the word ‘traditional,’” Finn says, leaning across the table to snatch a piece of bread. He tears it in half and dips some in oil, swiping it up with a flick of his wrist.
My father looks murderous. Part of me wishes he’d play along a little, just so we can get the hell out of here and figure out what we’re going to do.
“You think I would say yes to this?”
“I think you have no choice,” Lachlan says, emphasizing each word. His eyes glitter dangerously as he stares at my father. “We are offering you the peaceful option. Surely you know that.”
Is that a threat? I don’t know if it is and what it means. My heart races, my imagination spinning wildly out of control.
I don’t know what kind of other options they’d give my father. What non-peaceful solutions they might have. I don’t think they would kill me, but I don’t doubt they might kill him. Maybe they’d take a limb. Maybe they’d burn our house to the ground. Anything seems possible.
My father looks my way, catching my gaze. The anger in his eyes blazes as brightly as ever, but there’s a trace of sorrow in his face too. A silent apology, as if he’s the one that’s responsible.
I shake my head. I want to tell him it’s not his fault. I want to tell him it’s fine, I’ve survived worse. This is just another tense misunderstanding, and once it’s through, we can laugh. We can go home. I’ll pour him some whiskey and myself some wine, and we’ll talk about how close we came to disaster.
But I don’t think that will happen.
“Go,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of this.”
