“Yikes.” He winces. “Am I really that bad?”
“Yes,” I state without pause. We’ve ripped at this topic on countless occasions, but I’m typically more forgiving. On the surface, at least. The man is my father and deserves my respect, even if he’s cross with me. But I’ve ripped off too many emotional band-aids in the last hour to mince my words any longer. “You’ve always been really hard on me. Trevor has it easy because he followed in your footsteps. That’s what I get for being a rebel.”
He looks to my mom for clarification. She shrugs, then nods in my favor. All traces of humor fade from his expression. “All right, maybe I’m too tough on you. I knew you could handle it, Savvy. You’re my fierce fighter. Why do you think I’m so disappointed that being a lawyer doesn’t call to you? For me, it’s like you’re made for the courtroom. However, I understand it’s not your passion. Am I frustrated you don’t want to be part of the family firm? Sure. That doesn’t stop me from celebrating your success and accomplishments.”
That’s the moment I burst into tears. Big, ugly, sloppy streams rush down my face. Pure fire burns my nose as I let it all pour out. I cover my wet cheeks, but the tracks keep flowing.
My father looks absolutely horrified, if his round eyes are anything to judge by. That typically stern stare is blown wide, enlarging his shock to maximum levels. “What’s this? I’ve only seen you cry three times, and never as an adult.”
“It’s just a lot,” I blubber. This sensation is like being cleansed from top to bottom without moving a muscle. It’s glorious, yet uncomfortable. I shift in my seat as the emotion keeps leaking in steady rivulets. “I’ve always assumed you were angry with me. You never seemed to care about my dreams and goals.”
“Vannah.” He sighs and I brace for his lecture about showing weakness. “I’m proud of you.”
I let my jaw sag, an exaggerated breath whistling from me. “Can you repeat that?”
“I’m very proud, sweetie.” He laughs and ruffles my hair.
The affectionate display is even more concerning. This is highly out of character, more so than me crying. My dad isn’t the touchy-feely sort. He’s where my tender, sensitive skin—lacking any semblance of thickness—comes from. The thought is good for a trembling grin. That’s also how I got pumped full of sarcasm and snark.
“It wouldn’t hurt to hear it more often from you,” I admit.
“I agree, Savvy. I never intended to be stingy with the praise.”
I huff at the nickname. He’s the only person who gets away with calling me that. “All right, Papa Bear.”
“That’s nice.” He chuffs my chin. “Reminds me of when we were best buddies. The division between us lately is my fault. I’ll do better.”
I’m not certain why my frustrations with him are finally making an impact. This wound was gouged years ago during my freshman year in college. What began as a tiny disagreement spread into a painful conflict that could no longer be healed quickly. Since then, it’s scabbed over and formed a spiteful layer of scar tissue. My own stubbornness is responsible for a portion. It’s been easier to ignore the issue than constantly fight about it. I don’t have the energy to question this gift. It’s a relief to mark one problem as solved. I practically sag in my chair after the burden lifts.
With a grin slanting my lips, I wipe at the remaining moisture clinging to my skin. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He pats my hand that’s resting on the table. “It makes me sick that you ever thought otherwise. Now, what else is bothering you?”
I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly feeling like a sullen teenager again. “Well, there’s a boy.”
Wrinkles appear around his mouth when he smirks. “Landon Winters?”
He earns a gape from me. “How do you know his name?”
“Your mother told me.” He winks at her.
“Of course she did,” I mumble while shifting my gaze between them. These two have no secrets.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” The protective edge in his voice makes me snort.
“Yeah, yeah. No one ever will.”
My dad is quiet for a beat. “Does he give you the flutters?”
I gag and cover my mouth. “Gross, Dad. I’m not discussing this with you.”
There’s no chance I’m divulging that disaster to my father. It also doesn’t help that flutters are children’s play compared to the freaking hornet’s nest Landon stirs awake inside me. All those stings without any hope for honey. He’s the worst.
“Fine, don’t share details with the only man who will never betray you.”
“Low blow, Dad.” Our fences are still in the process of being mended.
“Fine, I’ll drop it. You’re capable of making great decisions, Vannah. Trust your heart.” He touches the spot on his chest that my mother owns. Let’s be honest—she rules the entire package.
“Wow,” I sigh. “That was really refreshing for me. I’m so relaxed and chill. How about you two? Therapeutic, right?”
They exchange a sneaky smile that sends a pang of longing through me. True love at its finest. It’s no wonder I grew up to become a hopeless romantic.
Mama Simons rubs my arm, knocking me from the random musings. “It makes me very happy that you’re resolving this rift.”
“Me too.” I nod just as my stomach rumbles. With a flinch, I slap a palm over the noise. It occurs to me that I forgot to eat breakfast with all the nerves jumbling my gut.
My father lifts a brow. “Can you stay for lunch?”
With a sigh, I rest my head on his shoulder. “I was really hoping you were going to offer.”
“As if we’d ever kick you out. Speaking of, do you want to move home?”
I wag a finger at him. “All I’m interested in is food. No lodging necessary.”
“Never hurts to double-check.” He kisses my hair, reminding me of brighter days that I thought were long lost.
After a quiet breath, my parents dive into a highlight reel of their favorite Vannah moments. It’s a soothing balm on my cracked spirit. If only every break was this effortless to repair.
A chirpy ping announces my arrival at Brogen Realty. I stride from the elevator with a solitary mission. The crowded floor is challenging enough to maneuver when my brain refuses to function properly. Vannah will speak to me, even if I need to drag her to a private room. I’m prepared to make a scene if necessary. The roar in my blood is hounding her and refuses to be ignored. This is unfamiliar terrain, but I’m not letting her go without a fight. She can kick and scream as I hoist her over my shoulder. At least that way, a slap to her ass will be called for.
People stare at me as I pass, but they all merge into a blur. I turn the corner leading to Vannah’s sorry excuse for a workstation. My steps falter as I approach. Her desk is completely empty and she’s nowhere in sight. There’s a blonde at the neighboring cube with her baby blues glued to the general vicinity of my dick.
I grind my molars while reining in the frenzy that’s chasing me. “Where’s Savannah?”