Page 44 of Fright Night
Between stilted breaths, she whispers, “What does that even mean?”
“Date me, Oakley. I’ve waited a while to get back to you, and if you make me wait forever to call you mine, I will. It mightseem quick to you, but I assure you, it hasn’t been the case for me.”
“Our parents…”
“Will learn to deal.” Or they won’t, but who really gives two fucks?
Although leaving her arms is a fate worse than death, what I’m about to show her might help her understand and come to terms with it. I reach for my jeans on the floor and retrieve my wallet from the back pocket, which I hand over.
“Open it.”
Frowning, she does, her confusion melting immediately for shock. For the softness that accompanies understanding as she takes in the small photo tucked in the middle.
“It’s their wedding,” she murmurs, stroking her finger over the plastic covering. “This is the photo you chose?”
“Yeah. One of my favourites because it’s only us. For a small moment in time, I got to hold you without judgement. When Dad brought me home to pack before sending me off, this was one of the few items I grabbed. Of everything, this photo was my only connection to you, and I’d be damned if I left without it.”
She stares at the picture for a long time. Minutes pass before she’s handing it back to me, water lining her eyes. And then she speaks, launching into her own speech.
“I sent in an application to the local college for their Business Admin diploma. You were right, Knox, about how my life is going. When our parents wed, your dad was so nice, and it was pleasant having a father figure in my life. When you left and all his attention shifted to me, I did everything to not disappoint him and seem ungrateful. Working at City Hall’s been challenging; he’s constantly trying to introduce me to officials I, on the event committee, should have no business meeting otherwise. It was clear early on what he was doing. The one time I broached eventually opening up a business, hescoffed. Yesterday, he and Mom were at the event, and following his compliment was something about what my life as mayor would be like, and it hit me; everything you’ve been saying. When making Julian’s payment earlier, I realized your dad doesn’t deserve to have the public image I’ve been so determined to protect. He has no respect for my dreams and never once protected you how he should have.” Her thumb sweeps my knuckles with a frown. “Every fight between you two stressed me out ’cause it’d end with you hurt.”
That simple statement means everything and I drag her into my lap, fully intending to show her. Maybe this time without the hoodie, although this sight is something I plan on seeing for the rest of my life.
I bring her nearer, but she pauses with a hand on my chest. “I’m also sending in my resignation letter to quit after Christmas; I typed it up earlier. Whether or not I get into school, I’m done there. I looked up other event planners in the area and would rather work with one of them. Learn from an actual business owner and get away from your father’s influence.”
“Fuck, Oakley.” In awe of my girl, I sweep hair away from her face to cup her cheek. “I have no doubt you’ll be accepted into college. And getting insight into running a business is smart as hell.”
“What about you?” She rubs her hand over my chest and up to my neck. “Now that you’re home, what’s your life plans?”
Other than fucking her every free minute of the day?
Before I respond, her phone rings, my father’s name flashing on the screen.
TWENTY
OAKLEY
Lunch with Momand Henry will be even more uncomfortable than the last, and it has nothing to do with the guy seated beside me, his hand hooked around my thigh. When we first sat at the outdoor dining area of one of Mom’s favourite tea spots, he grabbed my hand, but I asked him not to make it too obvious to them yet.
He listened…only to claim my thigh instead, his fingers digging into my leg. It wouldn’t be surprising if he bruised me, though also not unwelcoming.
“I went a long time without getting to touch you, Trickster,” he explained. “I won’t be living another moment of not.”
How could I argue with that?
When Mom enters the seating area from the restaurant’s entrance, she’s the first to notice our intimate position. Henry’s behind her, tall enough to see over her shoulder, and unlike Mom’s shock, his face reddens, mouth flattening.
I’d expected it. After ignoring his call last night because Knox immediately dragged me to my bedroom, I texted Mom this morning asking them to meet.
A waitress flits over at their arrival and the poor girl’s barely away from the table after taking their drink orders before Henry’s rant booms around the immediate area.
“Why did HR inform me you’ve quit your job?” His question is for me, but his glare is centred on his son, who couldn’t look less affected. “What ideas did he put in your head?”
Not ideas. Realizations.
Needing to defend him, I lean over until Henry is forced to shift his attention to me—the person whose job is the topic in question. After Knox fucked me a few times last night, I sent the email off.
“I quit because I’ll be applying to the local college to eventually open my own business.”
