Page 116 of Caught in the Axe
“No, it’s not. Don’t do that, Owen. You can hold me accountable. I was being selfish and immature, and I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready to face those people, and I should have handled it better.”
“You’re young, Lila.”
I could hear the record scratch in my head. Why was he brushing me off? I was trying to be an adult and take responsibility for my actions. My age had nothing to do with it.
“And I know you’re disappointed about the NYU scholarship.”
As upset as I was about the scholarship, I was more angry about my behavior at the restaurant and the situation I’d backed us into.
He kissed the top of my head and held me tighter. “I’m so sorry. But I can give you the money for tuition.”
I jerked back. “Excuse me?” Hold up. This was not how I’d seen this conversation going.
He tilted his head, his face a mask of pity.
Oh, hell no.
“Or lend it to you. I just don’t want you to have to worry about money.”
I blinked, thinking that might pull me out of what had to be a hallucination.
He rubbed my shoulders, completely oblivious. Then he stiffened. “Shit. My phone.”
He jogged around the kitchen island and plugged in his dead phone as I stewed. I didn’t want his pity or his charity. I wanted a teammate, someone who pushed me to be better and called me out on my shit.
“I don’t need your money, Owen.”
He wasn’t getting this. I opened my mouth, willing something logical and reasonable to come out. But I snapped it shut again when his phone erupted with one notification after another.
“Shit,” he said, unlocking the device. “I have a bunch of messages from Sara.”
Sara was the lawyer we’d met with in Boston. She’d intimidated the shit out of me, but she was great at what she did, and Owen had a lot of faith in her.
His eyes widened, and he rubbed at his beard. “Okay, a lot of messages.”
“Call her,” I said, my anger dissipating.
God, I prayed there was nothing wrong with the sale. After all the work we’d done, Owen and his brothers needed a win. They deserved it.
“It can wait,” he hedged, setting his phone down.
I put my hands on my hips and looked up at him. “Don’t make me call her myself. Just do it already.”
He swallowed audibly and searched my face, his brow furrowed, before he finally picked it up and dialed, careful to keep it plugged in.
She picked up on the first ring. “It’s about fucking time.”
“Sorry, Sara. My phone died. I’ve got you on speaker with Lila.”
“Thank God. I was debating whether I should drive up to Maine and track you down myself.”
I smiled. She would do that. I got the sense that no one ignored Sara’s calls and lived to tell about it. But she was a way better lawyer than Tad the asshole.
“I got a call from Williams & Freund today. They represent an investment group called Strategic Timber.”
“Okay,” Owen said, tapping his nails on the countertop nervously.
“They’re making an offer.”
