Page 91 of Tight End

David puts his hand on my shoulder, dipping his head like he’s giving his condolences. Maybe he thinks he is. “I have no helpful advice. That woman needs to get laid in a bad way.” His head snaps up and he lifts his hands, a horrified look crossing his face. “Not that I’m volunteering. No, thanks. I barely escaped hell with my soul intact.”

I shake my head with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. There’s nothing she can say that will scare me off. I know this is rather soon, but I think your daughter is end game for me.”

“Oh, I know. I’m old but not blind.” I turn, but before I can head toward the house, he stops me. “She’s tough on June, and for a long time, June let her run her life. You’ve been good for her. You let her be the person she’s meant to be. Margaret doesn’t see it, but she holds June back.”

You let her be the person she’s meant to be. I let that thought tumble around my head as I make my way inside.

I couldn’t imagine holding her back. I want to see her flourish. To grow. To be who she wants to be. What she does doesn’t matter to me. She could be a yoga instructor, a lawyer,a homemaker, a fucking construction worker—I don’t care. As long as she’s happy doing it.

“Oh, good.” Her mom points to the fridge as soon as I step into the kitchen. “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing a few things from the fridge, I have potato salad, deviled eggs, and a chopped salad ready to go.”

I nod, digging the requested items from the fridge while she gathers plates, napkins, and silverware. The entire time I’m waiting for her to lay into me, to tell me what a fucking waste of space I am, but it doesn’t come. At least not yet. There’s a chance I might have misread the situation, but I really don’t think so.

I’m pulling out the chopped salad when I hear the heavy sigh behind me.

Here it comes.

“You know you’re not good enough for her.”

Sometimes I hate it when I’m right. I really do.

I let the words hang in the air, taking my time to put the salad on the counter, before spinning around and facing her. I’m expecting her to have her displeasure stamped all over her face, but instead the look she gives me is one of resignation.

“I know.” I try to keep my own face as impassive as possible. She doesn’t need to know she affects me, that her blatant disapproval cuts me a little deeper than I’d like. “But for some reason, June wants to be with me anyway, and I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.”

She studies me for a moment but after several seconds she nods. “I actually believe that. You’re different than I expected.”

I’m not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult, but I’m pretty sure the answer is both. Like a shitsandwich coated in edible glitter. I’d love to know what she did expect, but then again, she was working with Silas, so who the fuck knows. Personal feelings aside, he’s a bit of a disaster.

If that’s what she’s basing this on, then I have a feeling I know exactly what kind of guy she thinks I am. And you know what? That’s not going to fucking fly. She can think what she wants about me, but she will know the truth.

“Excuse my language, Mrs. Morgan, but we’re not all out partying every night and fucking everything that moves. There might have been a period in my life where I fit that mold more than I’d like to admit, but I haven’t been that man in a long time.”

“When you’re a parent sometimes it’s hard to let go. For a long time, June had no direction, no purpose. Instead of letting her find her path on her own, I gave her one. Paul was great on paper, but we all know how that worked out. And you, you’re not. You’re big, loud, and I have a feeling you’re not very good at blending in.”

I get what she’s saying and she’s not wrong. But is life really worth living if you’re blending into the background all the time? If you don’t take chances? If you’re so afraid of being judged, you never step out from the crowd and do things how you want? I don’t think so.

“Some people are meant to stand out. Your daughter is one of them.”

She nods again, her fingers tapping away against the edge of the plates. “I watched her videos. She has a real passion for helping people, for their overall wellness.”

“She does.”

“And as much as it pains me to admit, I see that passion when you look at her. Oliver, too, and that boy loves you. Just know I have a lot of connections in this town, and if you hurtmy little girl or my grandson, there won’t be a day you won’t live to regret it.”

I square my shoulders and lean forward, pointing a finger at myself, letting her see everything written all over my face. “If I mess up and hurt June, there won’t be a single day of my life I won’t live with regret. She and Oliver are my world.”

Finally, fucking finally, her face softens, and I get a small smile. It’s not much, but I’ll take it. It’s not exactly glowing approval, but she hasn’t told me to get the fuck out of her house. It’s a start, and I’ll have years to break her down if that’s what it takes.

“We better go feed everyone.” Her eyes go to the French door, tracking her ex-husband with a frown. “Who knows what kind of stories David is telling everyone. He’s a real loose cannon when he’s left without a babysitter.”

To be fair, I’m pretty sure Mr. Morgan is a real loose cannon all the time. Most lawyers have the personality of a tough leather belt, present company included. To be honest, I’m not sure how the two of them stayed married long enough to conceive one child, let alone four.

They’re complete and total opposites. You know, like he’s fun and she’s ... not.

With a discontented grunt, Mrs. Morgan grabs the stack of plates and silverware, gesturing toward the door, and I dutifully follow along, grabbing the food and heading outside. June is quick, running to grab the bowl tucked into one arm.

“Everything okay in there?” June leans toward me, her eyes flashing with concern. “Did she say anything?”

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