My father steeples his fingers on top of the wooden table, his eyes on me as the waiters come and usher in the trays of food. The table is large, long enough to host a party. High, wingback chairs surround the table, custom-made and straight from Dubai.
“I didn’t anticipate having the entire crew here. I was hoping this could be a simple dinner with my daughter.”
Archer smiles, his arm going over the back of my chair. “The thing is, Mr. Ashford, the last time you were with your daughter all by herself, you shipped her away. We decided it’s not the smartest for you to be alone with her anymore. We wouldn’t want to be blindsided again.”
My father smirks. “So, you never plan to allow me around my daughter alone again? That’ll be impossible, son.”
“Not if we have any choice in the matter,” Kyler mumbles.
My mom leans forward, grabbing her glass of wine and raising it. “Okay, okay. Let’s not continue hashing out the past. Maybe we can set it all behind us now and move on?”
We’re silent, and I just sit there, my hands in my lap, the tension in the room so suffocating I want to clutch my throat in pain.
My father brings his hands together in a loud clap.
“Wonderful. Tell me about your trip, Lakyn. I only heard from Aunt Cindy and Uncle Dan. They didn’t say much besides you were getting on well.”
Getting on well? That’s one way to explain pure misery.
My brows lift. “You want to hear about how I had to clean up shit and almost got trampled by cows about five million times?”
His hand slaps against the table, and the silverware rattles against the expensive chinaware. “That’s enough, dammit. You would’ve never had to go to Montana if you wouldn’t have murdered someone,” my father snaps.
Silence.
The silence issoloud.
“And why do you think she killed him?” Creed asks quietly.
My father narrows his eyes. “She was seeing him. They were dating.”
“You werewhatnow?” Reign asks slowly from beside me.
I can feel the chill coming from him, but do my best to ignore it. “We weren’t dating,” I groan, but I can’t really tell my dad I only hooked up with him a few times, right?
“You guys were spending a lot of time together, Lakyn, and all of a sudden, the incident happened…” my mother whispers.
“Not to mention the number of other incidences you’ve been involved in the last two years. Your rap sheet isn’t clean, Lakyn,” my dad grumbles. He reaches forward, taking a piece of steaming salmon from the silver platter in front of him.
Archer reaches over, grabbing the bowl of asparagus and placing some on my plate. He does this with all the food, until my plate is heaping, and I can’t see the shining porcelain.
“What’re you doing?” I grumble under my breath.
He narrows his eyes. “You need to gain some weight, Lakyn. You’re too fucking thin.”
I can’t find it in me to stomach even a bite, the accusing eyes of both my parents weighing me down. My fingers play with the edges of the cloth napkin on my lap, and I feel a heaviness of my emotions darkening my mood until I want to scream, fight, destroy everything that surrounds me.
“Let me ask you a question, Lakyn,” my father says, his own glass of wine pinched in his hand. He raises it in the air, his eyes accusing as he glances at me over the rim. “What was with the sandy, wet clothes?”
I swallow down my gasp.
“Barnett, can we not—” my mother starts.
My father lifts his hand in the air. “I want Lakyn to answer the question. If she’s so damn innocent, she’d have a good explanation on why she was out during those hours, and came home after he was buried, in wet and sandy clothes.”
My chest grows heavy, and a panic fills me. I push my chair back, but Reign’s hand snaps out, and he wraps his fingers around my bare knee. I turn toward him, feeling the calmness, the protectiveness that radiates from him.
“Don’t move a fucking inch,” Reign growls at me.