Page 45 of Unexpectedly Wanted
“You know that I’m not really your boyfriend, right?” I couldn’t explain why that was the one thing my brain became stuck on. And that wasn’t even the thing that got me the most. It was the fact that I could hear a hint of desperation in his tone when he said “leave.” Almost as if the thought of me leaving hurt him.
“I wanted to say bye before I left,” he said. There was a hesitation that I picked up on when he spoke. I understood what an abrupt subject change was. What I didn’t understand was why he chose to go in this direction.
“There wasn’t time,” I said, because usually once things got underway, they tended to get all mission-mode. Saying bye was probably the last thing on his mind. Plus, it would have been strange if he’d broken away and headed for my office just to tell me he was off.Iwould have thought it was strange had he done that. “And how would you have explained it to everyone, anyway?”
He exhaled. Somehow, I heard a smile in that long, released breath.
“You deserve more than that,” he said, and it confused me.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” It would have bothered me if I’d just let it go. “You’ve never said bye to me before.”
Another released breath. Another hint of a smile floated through the speaker. But this time, I felt there was a touch of frustration there as well.
“I need to go,” he said. “Go in there. You’ve got this. Try not to miss me.”
I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t think I would. I’d never missed him before when he was gone. However, the phone beeped, letting me know he’d already ended the call.
“That was odd,” I said as I gathered my stuff and got out of the car.
I needed to clear the air with my parents. Then I needed to decide if I wanted them to stay or not. I didn’t think I would, but maybe there was something I was missing. Maybe there was more to their visit than this whole mess they’d brought with them. I wouldn’t have said I was hopeful about fixing my relationship with them. Some things you just couldn’t fix.
I found them sitting in the living room.
The TV was on, and my father seemed to be engrossed in whatever was playing. My mother was on her phone, likely scrolling through social media, making sure there wasn’t a thing she missed from Willow Hill.
For a moment, I was thrown back a few years. I was a teenager, hating life. I wasn’t in my house, I was in theirs. It was weird how nothing had changed with them.
And it made me wonder if anything with them could ever change. Could they ever accept me as I was? Could they see me as a person? Could we repair this relationship?
It was my mother who first noticed me standing there. She blinked up at me, but there was no smile on her face. No indication that she might be happy to see me. There was also no hint that she was nervous about what I had to say.
Once my father noticed me, he reached for the remote and quickly cut the TV off.
“Remy said we’d sit down and talk once everyone had the day to cool down,” he said. “I appreciate you letting us come back. I truly hope it’s okay that we’re here.”
My eyes went to the door, and I wished that Remy would come walking through it. I wasn’t sure why I felt like I needed him. That was a feeling I didn’t like. I could do this on my own. I really could. The problem wasn’t me saying what was on my mind. It was getting them to actually hear me.
I just dove straight into their problems, figuring if I could fix them on my own, then my mother wouldn’t feel the need to marry me off. I didn’t want them to know how much money I had. They weren’t the smartest people, but if I even hinted at how much I had in my savings, they would realize that something didn’t add up. A normal IT job wouldn’t pay me quite well enough to have that big of a rainy-day fund. They could never know what it was that I really did.
“How much?” I asked. I didn’t make a move to sit down, which left me feeling like the center of attention. I crossed my arms over my chest because I felt so exposed.
“It’s not your problem, Milo. You are my child and you should not be cleaning up my mess,” my father said.
“Just tell me.”
“Between the business, the credit cards your mother opened without telling me and are now maxed out—”
“Really, Harold. Must you tell him about those?!” my mother cut in with a shocked expression on her face.
“—and the house, a little over a quarter of a million.”
Nodding my head, I pressed my lips into a thin line.
I could get them out of this. I wouldn’t have a whole lot left over, but I could build it up again. Putting away money wasn’t hard for me. My house was mostly paid off, and my payments were low since I’d put down so much. My car was paid for. I occasionally bought frivolous things like rare action figures and comic books, but those weren’t things I needed.
That selfish little voice was in the back of my head. The one that had my heart racing and thinking about things I tried really hard not to think about.
Like, if things went to shit with my job and the FBI came after me. I wouldn’t survive living in a cell. I sure as hell couldn’t protect myself in prison. So, losing all the money I’d saved up to pay for the best lawyer to represent me had panic rising hard. Yeah, it was always there in the back of my mind, but feeling like I could have enough to pay for a decent chance to get out of paying for the mistakes of my youth made it easier. It wasn’t like I’d hurt anyone. I had been trying to do a good thing by exposing that bank and all the people they helped hide their dirty money.
