Page 84 of The Wrecked One

Carter: You sure you’re up for this? Coming here, then possibly to Dubai?

That almost felt like the start of a borderline “feelings” conversation from him.

Me: Wasn’t this what you wanted from the beginning? When you arranged that trick to get me to Zurich last week in the first place? You’ve got me back.

Carter: But for how long?

My shoulders dropped from the bricks his question laid on top of them.

Me: For this mission only, and then I’m out.

Carter: Mya know that?

I turned toward the twelve-person rectangular table. Malcolm was at one head of the table and my father at the other. Mya’s soft laughter rolled through the room and had the hairs on the back of my neck standing. My dad managed to make her dimple pop with his lost-his-pants—quite literally—in-a-poker-game story.

I’d already heard that one too many times. But damn, Mya smiling and laughing after a day like today, had me wanting to hug my old man for making that happen.

I gulped, then texted Carter back.

Me: She knows.

I pin-dropped my location for him to give to Teddy and Easton, then pocketed the phone and made my way back to the table.

“You sure you don’t mind them coming here?” I asked after sharing what I’d learned from Carter.

Malcolm deferred to his wife, letting her answer. “Now wasn’t I just saying I’d like to host people?” she teased.

“Couples,” I reminded her. “A bit different than an Air Force pilot and Navy SEAL.”

Vanessa patted her husband’s arm, and he quickly removed his elbows from the table. “Nothing I can’t handle, trust me. We have plenty of bedrooms.”

My dad exchanged a look with Cindy before his gaze landed on me.

“Don’t start. It’s impolite to argue at the dinner table.” Cindy beat me to what I’d planned to say, and in a much more polished way.

“Nothing to start, seeing as we have no reason to argue about my coming with you tomorrow.” Dad casually swirled the amber liquor around in the crystal tumbler, and he lifted it from the table like it was all a done deal.

“Here we go.” I stood and about-faced, ready to flee the scene before I made one myself.

“If he wants to come . . .”

Was Mya really siding with him? I turned and glared at her, shocked, then caught a look at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall. I really did need to do something about my hair and beard before we left town. What’d Mya call me? Tarzan? “He’s not coming. End of story.”

“You could use the help.” Of course Dad stood as well, striding my way so he could remind me of that one inch in height he had on me. Some things never changed, even after all this time. “And what if you need a pilot for a helo?”

“Carter has two. Plus, we have Easton now.” I folded my arms, cementing my stance in our showdown. I wasn’t budging on this one. I already had Mya to worry about. I didn’t need my father getting caught in the crossfire again like he almost had that afternoon.

Ignoring the throb in my shoulder and the ache in my knee, and now lower back, I remained stiff, my head upright, as Dad continued to stare at me. He was dying to give me orders, to remind me he outranked me. Different branch, though. Different rules. And all that really went out the window when he walked out on our family, didn’t it? He’d helped me these last four months, but that didn’t fix him being gone half my life when I’d needed him.

I was faintly cognizant of plates being cleared and chairs moving, but I was locked into the moment, only one unanswered question burning through my mind. “Why didn’t you come back after Mom died? Tucker was gone. Mom. I was all alone.” The pain pushed through my voice, and I nearly choked on my own saliva.

Dad’s eyes thinned as he stared at me, and everything in the room went dead quiet.

“You had people. Julia was there for you, and?—”

“I needed you. I needed my father.” My eyes were now burning more than my shoulder as I did my best to keep it together.

He hung his head like I’d done so many times when I was leveled by something disappointing. “I didn’t think you’d want me around. I was worried I’d waited too long to come back and that you’d reject me. I was . . . scared.” Emotion throttled his tone to the bare minimum. “Tucker hated me so much. He blamed me for not saving her, and I know you did, too.” Eyes back on me, he worked his jaw to the left as if needing to crack it, but I knew he was trying not to cry. Same as me. “I don’t regret seeking revenge . . . but I do regret choosing it over my family.”

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