Page 27 of Could Have Been Us
His gaze is far away when he answers. “I know.”
Relief fills me because, as much as I want the girl I gave away in my life, it’s not what’s best for her. She needs the man who has been the constant in her life to continue to do that.
“Then you’ll get some help? You’ll talk to someone to get through this?” I ask.
Samuel reaches his hand to mine, squeezing. “I’ll try.”
And I pray that will be enough.
Chapter 8
Stella
This date is a disaster.
Winnie is a damn maniac for making me come along on this crap. I’m pretty sure this guy is over fifty, and he keeps talking about his kid, who is about my age.
On top of that, I’m exhausted and ready to sleep for a week. I got home from Georgia a few days ago, and I haven’t been able to sleep because I’ve been waiting for Mickey to call me. So far, it’s been quiet, which makes me hopeful.
“And I told my kid I wasn’t paying for his college. I’ve noticed that most of your generation all think life should be easy. Well, it’s not.”
I nod and take a sip of my drink. “Nope. It’s not.”
“So, did your parents pay for your college?”
I grin, knowing this is going to chap his ass. “They did. They paid for all five of their kids to go to school.”
It was the one thing my father was adamant about. He thought that if he paid for school, we’d be indebted to him to work, regardless of whatever other aspirations we had. The rule was that, if he paid for our education, we were to work for Parkerson Enterprises for at least seven years after college or we pay every penny back.
The sad part is, we are all well past that obligation and all still work for him. With the salaries we make, it’s hard to walk away.
But, oh, I wish we would.
His face falls. “You’re one of those?”
“I’m not sure what that means, Tripp.”
“You know, you don’t work. You probably live at home like my leech of a child.”
“Well, considering I’m the general manager of an inn, I think I work hard. Also, I bought my own house.”
That seems to mollify him slightly. “Oh, good for you.”
I don’t mention that my parents own the inn I work for because it doesn’t matter. I still bust my ass and make sure I earn every penny I make. I scrimped and saved for my own down payment on the house. I didn’t take any help from them, and the very nice nest egg I have now is from putting aside money and not being wasteful. I refused to accept anything that would land me indebted to my father ever again.
“Yes, I guess it is.”
Winnie and her date, who I’m starting to suspect is Tripp’s son, come back, her hand on his chest as she laughs. “Oh, Stella, Easton here was just telling me about this concert he went to.”
Easton’s grin is mischievous. “We snuck in the back to meet the band.”
“And then they were mistaken for the crew,” Winnie finishes.
“Oh?” I say, feigning curiosity. Although, maybe I’m not faking it because anything out of Easton’s mouth is going to be better than whatever good ole Tripp here has to say.
“Yeah, so we had to help, but then we drank their beer and hung out the whole night without anyone figuring it out. Free beer and the band without actually buying a ticket. It was a good night.”
Okay, I know my best friend, and she does not find this story amusing. Winnie works harder than I do, and she absolutely hates when people steal.
