Page 59 of At First Flight
Chapter Thirteen – Lila
Beneath us, the car hums quietly filled with heavy silence, but its not uncomfortable. Something unspoken bubbles with things left unsaid.
From my view in the passenger seat, I stare out the window at the passing oak trees. Blurs and streaks of shadows and the descending sun. Dean’s muscular body is barely contained by the belt and driver’s seat and his crisp, woodsy scent fills every cavity. I may never wash these clothes again if it means I can keep his scent with me when I leave.
We’re headed back toward his house, passing my car at the school, and maybe toward something else, something we keep circling as if it might combust if we accept it head-on. I know I’m the one who continues to pull back, to keep that line in the sand deep and sure, but with each passing day, that line softens with the tide.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, my voice nothing more than a husky whisper.
Dean glances at me quickly, then turns his gaze back to the road. “Thanks for the tour.”
The silence splices through the car again, but this time, I’m not the one to break the ice.
“You asked me earlier what happened on the call,” he says, eyes locked on the road ahead. “It’s not something easy to talk about, especially since I worked my ass off to keep it out of the news.”
My body shifts toward his, curiosity taking over. I don’t utter a word, just let him talk.
“My dad…he wasn’t the kind of man myself or my sister missed. Or anyone missed really. He made a lot of money in the business and used it like a leash toward me and my sister. Any love from him was conditional. You had to earn it. Play the role.”
My fingers toy with the hem of my shirt as I swallow. I know that kind of man—almost married one. They must have grown up reading the same manual.
“Growing up like that…” he says, his voice even but subdued, “you learn to disappear in plain sight. Be what they want. Be polished. Be silent. Be golden.”
My heart thumps erratically in my chest, tightening it beyond measure.
“I tried to understand how he could treat us…well, me…with such utter disdain. It was never as bad for my sister. Then when I graduated from boarding school, I learned the truth.”
He leaves the words hanging in the air, like a plump fruit hanging from a tree just out of reach.
“I’m the product of an illicit affair my mother had with my father’s best friend.”
The gasp tumbles from my lips before I can catch it.
“Mom confessed right after it happened, and he promised to keep it under wraps and stay with her so long as she made sure the business all went to him and cut ties with his friend. See, the yacht business comes from her side of the family, not his.”
“And so, he…”
“He pretended I was his… at least to the public. Behind closed doors, he made sure I knew I was a second-class citizen. If it wasn’t for Mom, I probably would have been shipped away forever.”
“Dean,” I murmur, my heart aching for the little boy who just wanted his father’s love.
He muffles out a haunted laugh, and my nerves twitch in dread.
“That’s not even the worst part. Once I found out who my biological father was, I learned he died in an airplane accident the year before. I never even got the chance to know the man.
“I once asked my mother to tell me about him, anything. My dad was standing just outside the door.” Dean’s fingers turn the palest shade of white as he grips the steering wheel. “Learned quickly not to make that mistake again.
“The entire thing blindsided me, left me feeling like a shadow in my own world. When I looked around, all I saw was a shell of a life. Big. Impressive. Empty.”
A lump clawed its way up my throat.
“Whatever relationship I had with my father fell to the wayside. Now, he’s nothing but a stranger and probably would have wished to stay that way until my sister died. They’ve been trying to gain custody of the kids even though Gen specifically requested me as guardian. My guess is to make sure their actual future heirs fit into their world.”
“What happened on the call today?”
“I called him Dad, and he snapped. As usual. Old habits die hard, you know? And then he threw a guilt trip about my mom wanting to see the kids.
“They don’t know the first thing about raising kids. As far as I'm concerned, nannies and headmasters were our parents. What do they plan to do when Evelyn cries in the middle of the night or when Oliver asks for five more bedtime stories? Ignore them like they did to me?”
