Page 396 of The Winslow Brothers

“That’s bullshit.”

“But is it?” I question. “Because she just ran out of your office. As far away as she could possibly get from the both of us. I’m willing to change—to put my heart and soul on the line, to go to the ends of the earth, to understand her on an intrinsic level. Because of all that, IknowI’ll get her back, Nate. Can you really hear yourself right now and say the same?”

I shake my head. He can’t.

“Ty, you don’t know my daughter like I do. You don’t know how brilliant she is and how much her mind has to give to the world. The only other time I’ve seen her kind of brilliance was from her mother. And—”

“But she’s not her mother,” I cut him off. “She’s not Nadine Rose, Nate, no matter the shared DNA. She’s Rachel.”

“She could be just like her mother.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to be? What if she wants to be Rachel?”

He starts to open his mouth, but then he shuts it. He does that again three more times before clamping his jaw tight and looking out the window of his office.

At his core, I know Nate loves his daughter. And I even think he truly wants the best for her. But somewhere along the line, he’s lost sight of what’s important. He’s been too busy putting expectations on her, too busy asking her to be someone she’s not, that he’s suffocating her.

“Look, I respect you a lot,” I eventually say, my voice the only thing breaking the silence. “Hell, I’ll forever feel indebted to you for your guidance. You turned me into the man I am, and that includes the man who’s standing in your office right now saying all this to you. But when it comes to Rachel and me, I don’t care what you think.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with your daughter, sir. And that means Ionlycare what she thinks.”

Rachel is my priority. I hope, if she’s willing to forgive me, she’ll be my priority forever.

I could give two shits if he digs his toes into the sand and tries to find a way to fire me, even though I’m tenured. I didn’t murder anyone, but I imagine, for a father, someone sleeping with his daughter is just about the same thing. But it doesn’t matter—none of it does. None of it matters but her.

As I move to leave, I pose him with one more morsel of food for thought. “Would Nadine want your relationship with Rachel to be like this?” I question. “Would she be pushing for Rachel to follow in her footsteps? Or would she give Rachel the space to spread her wings and fly on her own?”

I don’t wait for his answers because, honestly, I don’t expect that he has them. Nate needs time to think.

As for me? The only thing I need is to get my girl back. As soon as fucking possible.

Rachel

I don’t know where I’m going.

I just know I need to get away. From my father. From Ty. From every-fucking-one.

My heels clap across the pavement of the sidewalk, and even though my thigh muscles are burning something fierce from a lengthy run I absolutely haven’t trained for, I pick up the pace. It’s like, if I could only go faster, then I would somehow find relief from this gnawing pressure inside my chest.

My phone vibrates from my bag, but I ignore it.

I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

Ican’ttalk to anyone right now.

I just need to be alone. I am literally the only company I can tolerate, and even that’s pushing it.

By the time I make it to Nolita, a line of sweat discolors the front of my blouse, my breathing is ragged, and tears are streaming down my cheeks. I can’t feel myself crying—my body is numb—but the evidence is plain to see.

Upon arrival at the bakery—and seeing Lydia and Lou at the front, chatting and laughing with a customer—I realize my plan to run until I couldn’t anymore has still landed me somewhere it shouldn’t. This may be my home, but it’s theirlife.

There is no way I can walk into their bakery looking like this. I won’t do it to them and their unflagging sympathies, and I won’t do it to their business.

Bringing that kind of pain and stress to their doorstep and leaving it there would be my undoing.

I round the block to the rear of the building and sneak in through the back doors, and I somehow manage to slide underneath Maude’s attention while she stays focused on piping white icing onto a tray of cupcakes. She’s got earbuds in or something, and for that, I’m thankful.

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