Page 120 of Catching Sparks

Against my better judgment, I searched for him when Mom whisked Poppy away for a tour of the house, but he was nowhere to be found. One look at his empty recording studio in the basement was all it took to have me spinning on my heels and heading back upstairs. It makes me sick to be near it.

I told myself that I didn’t care where he was when we arrived, but of course I did. My father couldn’t be bothered to welcome me home, even if speaking with him so soon after arriving was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Travelling is hard regardless, darling,” Dad answers Mom, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before fixing his stare to me. “It’s good to see you, Garrison. I can’t say that I expected to see you here, but I’m happy regardless. Will you do the honour of introducing me to your girlfriend?”

I ignore the millions of questions in my father’s gaze. He wants answers that I don’t have, nor would I offer up to him right now. I’m surprised he hasn’t already mentioned how surprised he is to see me with a woman at my side, but I’m sure that will come later, when we’re alone. If we ever get the chance.

I inhale through my nose and shift my hand from the back of Poppy’s chair to rest it between her shoulder blades, needing the contact.

“Poppy, meet my dad, Reggie. Dad, this is Poppy,” I introduce them.

Dad smiles kindly at her. Poppy offers him the same expression in return.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Beckett,” she says.

“Please call me Reggie.”

“Reggie, then,” she corrects herself.

Mom claps her hands. “Well, now that that’s done, who’s hungry?”

“I don’t think Garrison’s stomach has stopped growling since we woke up,” Poppy says, filling the silence that threatens to hang heavy over us all.

“He used to eat me out of house and home, that one,” Mom replies.

Dad pulls out the seat across from me for her before sliding into the one opposite Poppy. Nobody sits at either head of the table. The only times we ever use those two seats are if we have company, which isn’t often. Neither my father nor I have ever hosted work dinners here.

Everyone starts to dig into the spread of food, and I begin filling Poppy’s plate on instinct. She rubs my thigh when she notices what I’m doing, and I freeze, waiting for her to tell me I’ve overstepped. After spending the past few days together, it’s become habit to fill her plate before my own.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I relax and scoop some mash potatoes onto her plate, making sure to keep them separate from the slices of chicken and the fresh bun, remembering she doesn’t like her food to touch—another thing about her I picked up in Bora Bora.

“That’s what my mom says about my brother. But to be fair, I used to deal with him stealing food off my plate all the time growing up, so she’s not wrong.” Poppy speaks to the entire table this time.

“How many siblings do you have?” Mom asks.

“Just one. Darren is twenty-eight, and his daughter, my niece, is five.”

“Have you met Darren and his daughter, Garrison?” Dad asks, cutting into his chicken with a knife and fork.

“I’ve met her brother. Abbie, I haven’t met.”

“Darren splits custody of her with her mother, so there’s not much chance to introduce her to many people. But that’s a conversation not meant for the dinner table,” Poppy says with a strained laugh.

My interest piques, sensing her discomfort and wanting to immediately soothe her. I don’t know too much about Darren’s relationship with Abbie’s mom, and it would seem there’s a reason for that.

“That’s a shame. I’m sure the time will come, though,” Mom puts in before I have the chance to blurt out something I probably shouldn’t.

Dad smiles gently, sincerely. “Tell us a bit more about Cherry Peak, Poppy. I’ve only been once, and I’ll admit it wasn’t what I expected. However, I still quite enjoyed my visit.”

“You’ve been to Steele Ranch, right?” Poppy asks after swallowing a bite of chicken.

“Yes. It was a breath of fresh air. I had never been on a ranch before, especially not one of that calibre.”

“I would hope that you loved it, considering you dumped me on their front porch,” I grit out before I can stop myself.

Poppy doesn’t stop rubbing my thigh. I clutch onto that soothing motion and let it calm me.

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