Page 23 of Things Left Unsaid

“Did he hurt you, Zee?”

I can feel her fear.

Lots of people are frightened of Pops in Pigeon Creek though. For different reasons. Most of them money related. But she’s too beautiful for that. After the fire put a target on her back, I could easily imagine that Pops would?—

She swallows. “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.” Her nails dig in again, making a liar out of her. “I-I wouldn’t ask you for nothing but the truth and then lie to you.”

“Context is key,” I mock.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she repeats, “but that doesn’t stop me from being relieved I won’t have to see him much. You say he’s banished?”

“This isn’t the 1700s, Zee. Business-wise, he’s banished and I’ve had him move into the house in Saskatoon. He doesn’t spend that much time here anymore anyway. He only comes back to cause havoc.”

If I sound bitter, then so be it.

She, better than anyone ironically enough, understands why.

I’ve never liked my father, certainly never loved him. So it wasn’t that I missed him during his extended absences. If anything, I resented how he always returned when a routine of sorts had settled into place.

I’ve been raising my kid brother for years on my own—routine matters.

She peers at me through thick lashes that draw my attention because tiny diamonds of water have collected on them. “I won’t have to see him?”

Her relief sets my nerves on edge all the more. The thought that our families’ dealings might have drawn her to commit the unthinkable still has me in a chokehold.

What the hell was she thinking, wading into the lake that way? This is where her mom died, dammit.

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“What was your deal with him?”

As nosy as ever.

That hasn’t changed.

“That I’d become the new CEO and President of Seven Cs’ Inc. That he’d be nothing more than a shareholder.”

“And he agreed?!”

“He had no choice. Look, I know you’re getting a shit payoff from this, Sus— I mean,Zee. If the promise of a divorce once you’ve had our child is what’ll make you feel better about this situation, then you can have it.

“I’m not my father. I won’t make you miserable. We don’t need to live together over on the Seven Cs. We can settle here if that’s what you want?—”

“Would you be okay with IVF?”

My jaw clenches.

I have a healthy ego and I also own a mirror—I’m not Shrek here, for Christ’s sake, but from the break in her voice, you’d think I was.

“If that’d make you feel better,” I rumble.

Almost immediately, her brow puckers. “What’d make me feel better is you not believing I set fire to the stables.”

“That was ten years ago.”

---