Because Rook needs to be protected against this man. So does the farm.
Apparently, I’ll be the one standing between him getting his greedy little paws on what was always supposed to be Rook’s. I’m more than okay with it.
“Get the fuck off my land,” Rook’s voice is still in a way that reminds me of a predator right before they lunge at their prey.
I can feel the tension rolling off my husband.
“And you better not come back. You’re no longer welcome here. This place isn’t yours and it’ll never be yours. You turned your back on this life a long time ago. Go ahead and keep your back turned.” I wrap my arm around his waist, my hand sliding under his shirt and pressing flat against his skin, hoping I can give him just a little bit of strength.
“I never want to see you again,” he tells his father and my heart breaks for him. “If you see me, you’ll turn around and go the other way. Not that I expect to see you again.” He sneers the words, “You’ve always been really good at walking away; only showing up when you think that you can gain something from popping up. That ends now. You won’t be showing back up here and fucking with my life. Not anymore.”
“You’re going to regret this,” his father repeats the words as if they’ll hold more weight the second time around.
They don’t.
“Go,” my husband explodes.
I don’t know what his father sees on Rook’s face, but he lets out a huff and turns back toward his sports car which looks completely out of place. We don’t look away as he folds himself inside of the car and then speeds away, the car movement’s jerky and clearly fueled by the man’s rage.
We stand there for a long time with our eyes trained on where the car was parked and then where he was standing. I keep quiet because I’m not sure what to say.
When I look up at my husband, his eyes are glassy and his body is so tense that it’s starting to concern me. Even though nothing I do will fix the hurt his father has caused, I’ll do anything within my power to shield him as much as possible.
Marrying Rook was absolutely the right thing to do. His father doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near this farm or his son and now he’ll have to crawl back into whatever hole he’s been in for years.
The sooner it happens the better.
CHAPTER 12
ROOK
“I was going to cook you breakfast,” my voice sounds wrecked.
Embarrassment is crawling up my throat. I can’t believe my wife, my brand-new fucking wife, witnessed the stain on humanity that is my father. As much as I wish she hadn’t heard him, I was more than willing to use the strength having her near me gave me.
I should have known he was going to show up again. He loves hurting me and then prolonging it.
My eyes drop to the worn wood of the porch. I can’t look at her. I don’t want her to see my shame.
“Rook,” her voice is gentle, like she thinks I’m about to shatter. She wouldn’t be wrong. “Come on,” she starts to lead me back into the house and I let her.
I take a deep breath when the door closes behind us and some of the tension leeches out of my body. Meadow doesn’t stop there; she helps me into the living room until I sink down onto the couch.
Fear whispers in my mind. She’s going to put distance between us. She won’t want to be near me now that she’s seen the man who fathered me.
But she doesn’t run.
My Wildflower shocks the fuck out of me and straddles my lap, her arms wrapping around my neck before her fingers start playing with the short hairs at the nape of my neck. I’m sure I look surprised as fuck as I stare at her with my mouth hanging open slightly.
As she looks at me, she tilts her head to the side and asks, “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because you should be running from me,” the words, true as they are, slip from my lips involuntarily. I swallow hard and take in the confusion written all over her face. “I’m my father’s son, and he’s an asshole of the highest order. You should want to put as much distance between us as possible.”
Something fierce fills her expression, like she’s about to step onto the battlefield and isn’t afraid, because righteousness is on her side. “I never want to hear you say anything like that again, Rook Sherman. Do you hear me?”
The only thing I can do is nod slowly and swallow hard. She’s not done; I can see she’s just getting started. Inside I brace myself for whatever words she’ll say next.
“You are not your father’s son,” she bites out, anger simmering in every word. But I know her anger isn’t directed at me. “You are your grandfather’s grandson. He’s the man who raised you. He’s the man whose example you have been following your entire life, at least the time that matters. He’s the one who was here for you. He’s the man that gaveyou a home, a farm, stability, and a dream. He’s the one who wrapped up his legacy in his hope for your future, and you haven’t disparaged him once for it.”