“This is where you live?” Thayden asks, pulling into the modest ranch house where I grew up.
“No. It’s my dad’s house.”
Thayden’s brows shoot up. “Oh. Well, in that case, good luck. And if you ever need a lawyer or a getaway driver, here’s my card.” He presses a business card into my hand and I tuck it into my purse before walking up to the door like I’m walking toward a firing squad.
Actually, a firing squad might be preferable to my father once I tell him about Gavin. Because I’m going to tell him about Gavin. Even if it ended before it ever really began. Dad will be furious, and it will just confirm that I was right to leave when I did. Before things got even harder.
“Zoey!” Thayden has backed up, his car idling in the street as he calls to me. “Feel free to give your friend my number!”
“Not likely!” I shout back, before turning and letting myself into the house. Thayden might have shown me a different side, but there is no way I’m letting him anywhere near Delilah. Unless it’s in a boxing ring. That I might pay to see.
I unlock the house, smelling the familiar scent of home. “Dad?”
“Zoey?” He emerges from his room, looking as he always does: wrinkle-free and perfectly polished. “You’re a day early. We’re doing the birthday dinner tomorrow night.”
“Right. I actually came by to talk to you about something else.”
“I’d suggest the back patio, but it’s too hot. Let’s sit in the living room. Can I get you a drink?”
“Water, please.”
A few minutes later, I’ve got my feet tucked under me on Dad’s couch while he reclines in his favorite chair, watching me carefully. I’m just not even sure where to start.
“My week has been … kind of a mess,” I say, finally. The smile I attempt slides right off my face. I twist my hands together in my lap, avoiding running them through my hair, which is where they want to go.
“Zane told me about your boss,” Dad says, and my head snaps up.
Oh no he did not.
The fresh spike of anger I feel toward my brother helps give me some shape, some semblance of strength.
“What, exactly, did my darling brother say?”
“He said that you’re dating a man who’s almost my age. Seemed quite indignant about it.”
Dad’s face is a stone. Impassive, but not cold. Carefully blank. His poker face beats mine. I search for a crack, a tell, a wobble or even a blink, but he gives me exactly nothing.
“What would you say if that were true?”
I try to match his expression, but I know it’s no use. I might be great at this in other places, but in my house, I’m my father’s daughter. I can’t even attempt to keep my cool. My hands find the hem of my shorts, tugging, finding a loose thread that needs to be cut and picking instead. I’m sure that by the time I stand up, the whole bottom edge will be frayed.
“I would have questions. Reservations. A lot of them.”
“I suspected as much.” Of course, he would. Any dad would. He’s probably disgusted with Gavin, or even with me.
“But.”
My mouth drops at that one-syllable word, which carries a huge weight in this moment. A hopefulness that I don’t want to feel is rising like a tendril of smoke.
“I trust you. If it were someone else, I might question the wisdom of it more. But you’ve always been serious, Zoey. Even before your mother died, but especially after. You’re driven. Goal-minded. If there is a man who has won you over, I wouldn’t tell you not to date him. Unless he’s a felon. Or is one of those hipsters.”
“Your only requirements are that I can’t date a felon or a hipster?”
“They just wear the tightest pants,” Dad mutters. “And don’t get me started on those dirty beards.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, but it’s gone almost as quickly. I meet Dad’s eyes. “So, you’d be fine that Gavin’s forty-three?”
Dad flinches. Then he sighs and rubs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, which has me thinking about dirty hipster beards again, and I’d laugh if I weren’t so worried about what he’ll say next.
“It might take some … adjusting. I can’t say that I would be completely comfortable. At least, not at first.” A small smile plays on his lips. “When Zane called me, I think he was looking for backup.