Page 93 of Lassoed Love

“It’s been a while since I’ve been there, and I wanted to share everything that’s been happening. But, seeing Dad struggle and then missing Mum—it’s a lot to handle.”

Xavier continues to nod, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and concern.

“I’ve said this before, but can’t even imagine how tough this must be for you. But you’re not alone in this, Isla. I’m here for you—whatever you need—I’m not going anywhere,” he declares. We just sit here in comfortable silence, ‘New Girl’ playing in the background. I turn to look at Xavier, my eyes searching his face for answers.

“Xavier?” I ask shyly.

“Yes, love?” He looks down at me with a smirk.

“Can you tell me what exactly happened between my dad and yours? I-I just need to understand what’s going on.” The concern in my voice is evident as I seek clarity on the complex situation.

There’s a brief silence before Xavier takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t know about all of this until I asked my mum,” he admits, his gaze momentarily shifts away, his expression troubled.

“Apparently, it’s about some jobs my dad asked yours to do,” he continues, his tone grave.

“But—” he sighs. “Well, they were left unfinished. There’s something about your dad owing money, but trust me, my old man will get over it, eventually.” I shake my head, determined to make a difference.

“Please, Xavier, just tell me how much he owes. I want to help.”

“It doesn’t matter, Isla. I’ll sort it out, trust me,” he insists, avoiding the specifics.

“Xavier, please," I press, my voice tinged with desperation. “I just need to know.”

Reluctantly, he reveals the amount. “About two grand.”Shit.Isigh, shaking my head slowly.Fucking hell, Dad.

Without another word, I abruptly stand, telling Xavier I’m grabbing something from my room. I leave him on the couch, heading into my room. I open my wardrobe and retrieve the wad of cash I’d been saving over the years. The bundled notes now carry the weight of my determination to help my father.

With two grand in hand, I return to the living room, where Xavier waits with his arm outstretched. The room feels heavy with unspoken words, and I stand in front of Xavier and he looks up at me curiously. I hand over the money to Xavier.

“Take it. Consider it my way of helping, of making things right.”

Xavier’s gaze drops to the bundled cash in my hand, and his expression shifts from disbelief to anger. His brows furrow, and a tense silence settles in the room.

“What the hell, Isla?” His voice is sharp, carrying a mix of frustration and concern. “I’m not taking your money. This is between our fathers, not us.”

“I know, Xav, I know… but please, just give this to your father. It might help ease the situation a bit,” I plead, my eyes reflecting my earnest desire to assist.

Xavier’s frustration intensifies, and he becomes visibly upset. “Isla, you shouldn’t fucking have to give my dad money. He’s an old man. It’s been years now—we’re not worried about the money, baby. It’s my father. The old bastard just can’t seem to let grudges go.”

“I understand that, but I can’t sit idly by, Xav. Let me help in my own way,” I persist, my determination unwavering.

Xavier’s frustration is palpable, and his voice sharpens further. “Isla, you shouldn’t have to be involved in this.”

“But you don’t understand, I am. It’smyfather, Xavier. I just want his fucking approval. I want him to be okay with everything.”

“This is about approval? For what?... Us?” he questions with furrowed brows. “Who gives a fuck what they think? What’s between us is exactly that, Isla—between me and you. Nobody fucking else,” he grumbles.

I shake my head, releasing a breath. “I want to make things a little easier, not just for my dad, but for us, too, Xav,” I reply, my words tense and clipped. “It’s not just about the money.”

He runs a hand through his hair, visibly agitated. “This isn’t the solution, Isla. I need to figure this out without dragging you into it. Just let me deal with my father.”

The tension from our argument lingers in the air as we remain locked in a silent standoff. Suddenly, my phone rings on the coffee table, breaking the quiet tension. We both turn to look at my phone—it’s a number I don't recognise. Frowning, I pick up my phone.

“Answer it,” Xavier says in the silence, despite the phone ringing. I hesitate, but I decide to answer it,unaware of the impending catastrophes that lie ahead.

The mood in the room undergoes an abrupt shift, the air thick with tension and angst, as I lift the phone to my ear and cautiously say, “Hello.”

The voice on the other end introduces themselves, anda chill runs down my spine. Xavier instantly stands up, his expression etched with concern. He bombards me with questions, but I’m not paying attention—I’m frozen, hanging on every word from the call.

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