Page 6 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“She just got put on academic probation. This is her third semester and the third time her grades have been low. If she has one more bad semester, they’ll kick her out.”

“What the hell? School has always come easy to Fiona.” I run a hand through my hair.

“I know.” Mom shakes her head. “I think she’s more focused on boys than on getting her degree.”

That has my brows lifting. “A guy? Is she dating someone?”

“Not that she’s told me, but she’s been going to a lot of parties. Maybe it would help if you spent a little time with her.”

“All right. I’ll see if she wants to meet for taco Tuesday.”

“She does love tacos.”

“Who doesn’t?” I tease and pull the handle. “You goin’ inside?”

“No. I’ll let your father have his night.”

“He’s always happy to see you, Ma.”

“I know.”

I frown. “You two having trouble?”

She shrugs. “He seems distant lately.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. And don’t even think there’s anyone else, Ma. There’s not. Hell, your love story is legendary around here.”

She nods but looks a little sad.

I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

CHAPTER ONE

Tori—

I’ve always loved September, but there’s no joy in me today. Scenery flashes past as my father drives us to his California home, the one that’s been in the family for generations. The one my great grandfather built in 1890.

I’ve heard stories about our family business since I was old enough to remember. Sawyer Lumber weathered the earthquake of 1906, the Great Depression, WWII, and even the housing crash of the 1990s. My father always said lumber was in our blood.

Maybe his. Not mine.

I take after my mother, wanting nothing to do with cutting down trees. In fifth grade, I once tied myself to a pine tree to save it.

Dad was not pleased.

“You have everything you need to start classes on Monday?” My father slows and takes a turn, the wheel of the brand-new silver Mercedes sliding under his palms.

“I thought you had a black car?” I ask, taking in the dashboard and changing the subject. The last thing I want to do is talk about college.

“I did. Got in a wreck a few weeks ago. Had to get a new one.”

“What? Mom never told me you’d been in an accident. Were you hurt?”

“Had a few scratches. Could have been a lot worse.”

“What do you mean?”

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