Page 99 of For Her Own Good

Chapter 33

Lowry

I wasn’t expectingto see Star tonight, but I wasn’t sad when she texted.

Are you still awake? Are you too tired to come over?

Sweet girl.

Yes, I’m awake. And I’m never too tired to come see you.

Which is true. The idea of seeing her buoys me, wakes me up. Even if I were exhausted, I would find the wherewithal to make the trip to her apartment. And here I am. I knock on her door and then there’s a grand shuffle before she’s standing before me.

In her sloth pajamas, hair disheveled, she’s the one who looks exhausted. Eyes red, face drawn and pale, she looks as though she’s been crying. I know she had some sort of meeting about Patrick Enterprises tonight but she hadn’t said what exactly it was and I hadn’t pried. I’d hoped whatever it was would make her feel better, more settled—instead I find her like this.

I barely open my arms before she’s walking into my embrace, burrowing her head into my chest and hugging me tightly.

“Oh, Star, sweetheart…”

I’m hit with a wave of bewilderment, sympathy, and a good heap of inadequacy. Why is she so upset? What can I do? Why don’t I have the answers already? I’m supposed to care for her and I’ve failed.

I wrap myself around her as well as I can, an arm at her waist, a hand cradling the back of her head, and I wish I had more limbs or other ways to hold her closer, shelter her. I’ve got the urge to demand who hurt her so I can go fight them, but that’s not what she needs. She can fight people herself. I’m just the lucky bastard who gets to hold her after she does.

“Think we could go inside and do this? I don’t mind standing on your threshold, but I thought you might like a bit more privacy.”

She nods into my chest and it’s adorably pathetic. She’s not kick-ass, professional Starla right now, she’s sweet, lost, overwhelmed Starla who really needs her daddy. Okay. I can do that. To prove it—to her as well as myself—I pick her up and get a startled laugh for my trouble, as well as a crackle in my knees.

I kick the door closed behind us and bring her over to the couch, get her settled on my lap, and she’s still clinging to me. All I want is to pull it out of her, what’s happened, how I can help, but I don’t want to pry too hard and crack her open.

“Little girl, do you want to tell me what’s happened, or do you just want hugs?”

“Just hugs right now. Please, Daddy.”

She’s not crying, but she doesn’t sound too far off and it breaks my heart. But I can cuddle her, cradle her, give her comfort until she’s ready to hand me more than that.

“Okay. You’re okay.”

After a few minutes, she sniffles and looks up at me.

“I had a meeting tonight.”

“I know.”

“About my father’s company.”

It’s her company, but I suspect owning it in that way might overwhelm her, so sure, yes, her father’s company.

“Mmm.” I hum my agreement because I remember but I don’t want to be obtrusive.

“With Jerome Garrett. Do you know who he is?”

“The name’s familiar, but I can’t say why.”

Although now it’s seared into my brain as someone who’s made Starla unhappy.

“He’s the head of Garrett Industries, which has been Patrick Enterprises’ biggest competitor for as long as I can remember. My father hated Jerome Garrett. Like, a lot. Thought of him as his nemesis.”

Interesting she met with him then. And what for?

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