Page 35 of Forbidden Impulses

"Yes, for a while now. I needed to talk to you. It's about your mom."

Dad's call does not go the way I expected it to.

His telling me my mom had passed away is the last thing I'd have ever thought would happen. The only thingless likely is the fact that he wants to apologize for how he handled stuff with Jackson, and he wants me to come home.

"I'm not coming home, Dad."

There's complete silence on the line after that response.

"Of course you are. It’s where you belong." His tone is curt and so much more like the man I'm used to. It's almost a comfort to know the distant, cool man is still there.

A harsh laugh tumbles from my chest. The laugh soon turns into hysterical giggles that are only stopped once Dad barks at me to stop it.

"This isn't a joke, Annabelle." His voice is low and carefully controlled. But for once, it doesn't turn me into the meek, obedient daughter that has always been desperate for her parents’ approval. Their attention. Their affection.

"You're right, Dad. It's not funny. Not even a bit. I'm truly sorry to hear of Mom's passing, and I will make the time to come home and show my respects, but I will not be coming to heel like you expect me to, anymore.”

I take a deep breath, proud of myself for sticking up to him, and muster the courage to continue. "I'm going to start living my life. Doing things on my own, for myself. And by the end, Iwillmake myself proud. Not you. Not mom. Not anyone else. The only thing that matters now is that I'll be able to look at myself in the mirror."

We don't really have much to say to each other after that. Honestly, I can't blame him for cutting the call short, and I can say that I feel better after standing up for myself like that. I will need to deal with the grief of Mom’s passing,but when they cut me off, I’d already started the mourning process.

But defending myself against one of my biggest bullies? That’s the first step in what will probably be many in my journey of growth and self-discovery.

The next? Getting Chloe to come back to the studio with me so I can get back to work.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lorcan

"Enough!" I bark out in annoyance at Suzie.

"No, Lorcan! Not enough. You're being an idiot," she responds, smacking her hands down on the kitchen counter between us. Her face is red with anger, and her blond curls bounce around her head as she visibly shakes with rage. If I wasn't so pissed at her, I'd find it amusing that our usually calm, sweet daughter was literally spitting mad.

"I'll remind you who you're talking to, Suzanne," I warn with a low growl before pushing up from my careful perch against the kitchen counter. "I'm still your dad, and for the time being, you still find yourself under my roof. We don't ask for a lot, so the least you can do is show me some damn respect."

Her brows narrow as she scowls at me. "Respect? I'll respect you when you're not being an idiot!"

"Suzanne!" Montgomery bellows out as he walks into the kitchen.

She turns her glower on him, and I'm glad to share her ire with someone else.

"No. I've been quiet and let you do things your way this whole time, but I've had enough and won't keep quiet anymore." She stomps her foot on the floor before narrowing her gaze on me again. "It's time you hear me out," she says to us, resting her hands on her hips, squaring up to face us as if we're her opponents.

And I suppose, to some extent, we are.

"You’ve given Annie these months on her own. I don't know, either because you're really dum-dums, or maybe because she needed some time on her own for a while. For whatever fucked-up reason, but I'm telling you, it needs to end, okay? She needs to know you care because she thinks you don't!"

A sharp lance pierces my heart at Suzie's words.

How could Annie think that? We might not have said the words, but I honestly thought that our feelings for her were clear.

"Suzanne, we love you, but this is not your place. Your dad and I have spoken about this, and we're both on the same page," Monte says before I can bring up my worries about Annie's feelings, but from the look on his face, Suzie's words affected him too.

Our daughter's face pulls down in a sulky frown and she stomps her foot again before storming out of the kitchen. However, before she makes it all the way out, she stops, turns around and looks back at us.

"Not that either of you care, but she has her first gallery showing this weekend. It's at the place she's been working." Unshed tears fill her eyes, and from the pinch of her mouth, it's clear they're from anger, not sadness. She storms from the kitchen and instead of heading to herroom like I'd have expected; she goes out the front door, and it slams shut behind her.

"Fuck," I bite out. "She can't drive in that state."

---