Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight #3) - Karla Sorensen Page 0,2

of the stairs and listened because I thought maybe I could learn why those looks bothered me so much. I'd done nothing wrong, right? Black tights looked pretty with the dress I'd been wearing, prettier than boring old white tights, and when I stuck my leg out, the delicate pattern of the material made me happy. They made me feel like a princess.

"J.T." My momma sighed. "You can't fire anyone who corrects her."

"That woman embarrassed her in front of all those little girls." He sighed, and I knew that sigh of his. It always preceded a good rant, paired with frantic pacing around our kitchen. "And nobody—I don't care who she thinks she is—embarrasses our daughter and gets away with it. You should've seen her face, Bobby Jo."

"Embarrassed Magnolia or you?" she asked quietly.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, because even now, they felt hot to the touch.

The kitchen went quiet, and I knew my momma was either giving him a hug or giving him that steady look of hers that she was so good at. That was the difference in my parents. Momma was the steady one. Sometimes, I thought she had more pragmatism in her veins than blood. But Daddy was a bit more unpredictable. Especially when it came to the two most important people in his life: me and Momma. Even back then, I knew he'd burn cities to the ground for us without a second thought.

"I didn't have her fired because she corrected her," he said, voice a bit calmer. "I had her fired because of the way she spoke to her. Like she was less. Like she couldn't have possibly known what the rules were. And ..." His voice trailed off.

"Ah," Momma said. "Well, we can't have that."

"Damn right."

"But," she continued gently, "life is going to be full of hard lessons for Magnolia. There will always be people like that woman who don't care her daddy is white because I gave Magnolia enough of me. You can't protect her from all those people."

He was quiet, the kind of quiet that was tense and scary, because it usually preceded a storm.

"I know that." His voice was rough. I looked down at my arms, a deep golden tan, a color I loved because I always felt like God must've poured a little bit of Daddy and a little of Momma into one giant paint can and mixed it up until He found the perfect blend. "But, by God, I will not sit by if I see it happen. Anyone who makes our daughter feel like she's less will have the full wrath of hell brought down upon them."

My heart didn't feel pinched or cold when I heard him say it like that. I felt loved and protected. I knew I'd always have someone to face the world on my behalf. Wasn't that what daddies were supposed to do?

Momma laughed under her breath. "Maybe you could teach her how to fight some of her own battles."

"Why would I do that? If I can fight them for her, doesn't that make her life easier?"

His genuine confusion had my face scrunched tight with the same feeling. My life had been pretty easy, and I knew now, it was a byproduct of the fact that both my parents came from families so wealthy that it was tacky to bring it up in public. But back then, I took it for granted. That was my normal, and kids can't be faulted for the way their parents raise them. All we can do is try not to let them twist us up if their own issues bleed into those choices.

Thinking about that day, when the eleven-year-old me sat on the stairs and listened to my daddy ask that question, I should've known I was in trouble.

I should've known that when I became an adult and was trying to find my foothold in this life I was born, I'd still be bearing the weight of my father trying to make my life as easy as possible for the simple reason he didn't want to witness me struggle.

Not only was that not normal, but by all the saints and apostles in heaven, I knew exactly how downright unhealthy it was.

Which is how I found myself at the age of twenty-six, working for my father and wondering how I'd let things get this far.

He was pacing my office, hat ripped off his head and clutched tight in his fist. "It's not right, Magnolia."

"Daddy," I said

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