“You can. I’m going to wait here until you do.”
“Really?” she said in a hopeful voice.
“Yes.”
“And after tonight, what then?” she asked.
“You take one day at a time. Just get through tonight and tomorrow things will seem better.”
***
Tilly tried to calm her nervous stomach as Dylan drove down the long driveway to her family home.
“Wish I had my truck,” Dylan grumbled as they went over another pothole. The Dodge was great on the highway, not so good on unpaved, rough roads.
“Do you think Rogan and the others are all right? Do you think that there will be any problems from the Vipers?”
“Rogan can handle anything that comes up. He’ll keep his people safe.”
“No matter the cost?” She glanced at him sideways.
Dylan was quiet for a long moment. “He has his own moral code. He has things he believes are right and wrong. I’m not saying I agree. We have laws for a reason. But Rogan was forced into that life and he’s making the best of it.”
“I can’t believe his own father did that to him.” She couldn’t imagine her father betraying her like that.
“When is the last time you were home?” Dylan asked her.
“Umm, about eight months ago when Miller’s grandmother died.” She hadn’t stayed long.
Dylan pulled up outside the house. It was a large single-story wooden house, it had a wide
porch which wrapped around three sides.
Dylan climbed out of the car then came around to open her door.
“Ready?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
No. But then she didn’t know if she’d ever be.
“Let’s do this,” she said.
Dylan watched Tilly with worry as they climbed the steps to her family house. Had it been a mistake to come here? Had he pushed her too far? Her pale face and the nervous way she clung to his hand had him second-guessing his decision.
The large door opened and an older man stepped onto the porch. He was as tall as Dylan and nearly as wide. His short hair was white, a stark contrast to his deeply tanned face.
A huge smile covered his face and he opened his arms. “Midgie?”
Tilly flung herself forward, clasping the other man tightly. “Daddy.”
“Welcome home, baby girl.” Tilly’s father clasped her close. They spoke quietly to each other and then her father glanced over at him, the look of joy on his face turning to one of guarded suspicion.
“Who’s this?”
Tilly gazed back at him. “Daddy, this is Dylan. My boyfriend. Dylan, my father, Zach King.”
Her father glared at him.
Why had he thought this would be a good idea?