“An ultimatum? Or is this more of a threat? Fall in line or face the consequences?” I push to my feet. “Dad, I’m not one of your employees or a defendant in your courtroom. I’m your daughter. Not someone to control but a person you’re supposed to love. Unfortunately, it seems I’m the only one in this room who remembers that. Do what you have to do. I don’t give in to threats. I learned that from the man who raised me.”
Turning on my heel, I stalk to the door. But his voice draws me up short.
“Everything I’ve done has been to protect you, Lennon. Remember that.”
I don’t reply, and I don’t look back. It’s classic Terrance Ward that he needed to have the last word.
Right now, I don’t care anymore. My main concern is escaping this house before I break down in tears. And my pride demands he won’t have that from me.
* * *
Partof me isn’t surprised that I end up at King’s house.
As much as I’ve fought it—acknowledging how foolish it is—he’s become a haven for me. In the last two weeks, the hours I’ve spent with King have been the freest I’ve felt in years. With him, I can be just Lennon, not Lennon Ward, Judge Terrance Ward’s daughter. I can be quiet. Or I can talk. I can laugh. Or I can brood.
I can just…be.
And he accepts it. Accepts me.
That, for a woman like me, is more precious than a home in a nice neighborhood and a 401k.
I pull up to the gate, punch in the code that King gave me after that first afternoon in the studio and drive through after it opens. Usually, I text King before I come over and he meets me in the driveway and will take me to the studio or around to the side entrance of the house. My choice, not his. My insistence on our “relationship” remaining private, secret, though I’m sure his bandmates all know.
But tonight, I haven’t texted him. And after I pull my car to a stop in the driveway, I step out and climb up the front steps of the huge farmhouse to the front porch. I raise a fist but before I can knock, the front door opens and King stands in the entryway.
“Lennon.” He frowns, moving forward and simultaneously reaching out for me. His hand cups the back of my neck, drawing me closer, into his body. “What’s wrong?”
The marked difference between his welcome and the one I received from my father hits me like a sucker punch to the chest and the air expels from my lungs on a ragged sob that scrapes my throat.
“Oh baby.” He pulls me fully into his arms, holding me against his body.
His hand rubs up and down my back, soothing me as he whispers in my ear. I don’t understand most of what he says to me because I can’t hear over the cries that rip from my heart. I’m so fuckinghurt. All I hear is Dad telling me how I’m disappointing him and the insults and the threats. What did I do that made me so…insufficient? Why have I never been enough for him?
“You are more than enough, Lennon. You are justmore,” King whispers, and it occurs to me that I spoke all those thoughts—or rather cried all those thoughts—aloud. “Get that shit out of your head. Because that’s what it is—shit. You’re asking the wrong question. What is it about him? Why does he have to be so controlling? Make you feel inadequate so you feel like you need him? That is insecurity, Lennon, and fear. He’s the one who secretly believes he’s not enough. But he can’t admit it.”
King cups my face and tilts it back so he can look into my eyes. My breath catches at the sincerity and… No, I lower my lashes. That can’t be what I glimpse in his gaze. But then I’d have to admit to what is in my own heart. What I’m too afraid to confess. What I’m too scared to confess.
“He’s frightened of losing you, but he doesn’t know how to show it. Baby, I’ll be the first to say I’m not your father’s biggest fan. He definitely won’t get my vote in the next election.” I chuckle. God, how is that possible given the tight band around my chest and my bruised heart. “The truth is your father needs you. Possibly more than you need him. But instead of just saying,I love you and I’m worried about your choices, he goes the ‘Kneel before Zod’ route and demands complete submission and compliance. You’re not weak, baby. You’re damn sure not insufficient. He’s vulnerable and feels threatened, so he’s lashing out. It’s not right, and it doesn’t give him a free pass. But also know who you are. Beautiful. Strong. A light. And pretty terrifying. In other words, fucking perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” I whisper.
“To me you are,” he says softly back.
The constricting band around my heart loosens a fraction and my head falls forward, settling against his chest. His fingers tunnel in my hair, but it isn’t sexual. He massages my scalp, comforting me.
“Everybody good out here?”
I lift my head and turn around to see Kade in the doorway, holding Gunner. His gaze roams my face, and there’s no way he can miss the evidence of my tears. I glimpse the sympathy flickering in his eyes.
“You good?” King’s hand slides to the back of my neck again, squeezing.
Before I can answer, Gunner screams and holds out his arms, his chubby hands straightening and flexing in a “gimme” motion. At first, I assume he wants King, but when Kade steps onto the porch Gunner does another of those death-defying dives that he did in Hunt Auto toward me. And like before, I automatically catch him, my heart clamoring.
His solid weight hits me, my arms instinctively closing around him. His scent of soap, milk and something unique to babies envelopes me, and I close my eyes, nuzzling his thick curls. This is just my second time seeing and holding him; he’s usually in bed when I come to the house. I wait for that sharp shaft of pain that assaulted me at that first meeting. Yes, there is a dull throb but it’s nothing compared to the warm glow that fills me at his bright blue eyes, rosy, appley cheeks and wide, sweet smile with its two teeth. He’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful and innocent. And he’s a part of King. Do I wish that other part could be me? God, yes. But how could I resent this precious little boy for that? I can’t. I just can’t.
“Hello to you, too, Gunner.” I sweep a hand over his hair. He babbles a whole lot back at me, but I’m pretty certain there’s a “hi” in there, and I grin. “I’m happy to see you again, too.”
He grabs one of the big buttons on my coat and goes to town sucking on it.