Page 17 of Home for Justice
ButthisTyler—grieving, grounded, utterly compelling—had blindsided her. And now that she knew who he was, knew that the man she’d comforted in that sterile hospital room wasCharlie’sgrandson, the connection felt even deeper. Almost fated. And now she was driving away from him.Again.
The ache in her chest twisted into something sharper than anger. She had believed their moment in the hospital would be just a moment. Fleeting. Unrepeatable. Two strangers clinging to each other for the briefest heartbeat of comfort before drifting back into their own lives.
But then he’d been there, standing by Charlie’s casket. Speaking with warmth, strength, and sorrow. And when their eyes had met, something had passed between them again. Something she didn’t want to pretend hadn’t happened.
And still, she’d had to leave. By the time she pulled into the hospital parking lot, her jaw was set and her hands still shook from a mixture of fury and regret.
She marched down the hallway, giving a tight, polite smile to the nurses behind the front desk, silently praying they couldn’t read the storm behind her eyes. Her heels clicked like gunshots on the tile floor, echoing her pulse.
When she stepped into her father’s room, the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding released in a rush. He looked good. Really good.
Her dad sat upright, propped against a mound of pillows, a tangle of IV tubing still draped beside him, but his color was strong and his eyes alert.
“Dammit,” he muttered when he saw her, his gaze flicking to her funeral clothes. “Seeing you dressed like that just reminded me of Charlie’s funeral. I’m sorry, Justice. I shouldn’t have called. Wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It’s fine, Dad,” she said, crossing to the bed and sitting beside him. She laid a hand on his wrist, reassured by the steady beat beneath her fingers. “The service was this morning at the cemetery. It was beautiful. And I went to the Legion Hall after to help with the food.”
His sharp eyes narrowed as they took her in. “You look flushed. You sure you’re okay?”
She let out a sigh, pushing a few wisps of hair behind her ears. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed the simmer still burning inside. “Just mad at Jordy and Debbie, that’s all.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “I shouldn’t have pulled you away from the reception.”
“Dad,” she murmured, turning to face him fully. “We don’t keep secrets from each other when it’s important. Tell me what happened.”
He huffed a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “They came in here all bluster and false piety. Praising God, I’m still breathing like they hadn’t spent the last years pretending I didn’t exist unless they wanted something.”
She could picture Jordy’s sanctimonious voice and Debbie’s crocodile tears perfectly. The performance. The manipulation. Her stomach turned. Her mother had always called them “usersin church clothes.” Justice leaned back slightly, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “Of course they did.”
“Anyway,” Jack muttered, “he wanted to know if I’d made a decision about giving him a loan.”
Justice blinked, stunned. “A loan? Good grief, Dad! I suppose they’ve already burned through the last of the inheritance, haven’t they?”
Jack snorted, his expression twisted with equal parts disgust and amusement. “It’s a good thing I have every legal document tucked away in that lockbox. Jordy has the memory of a fruit fly when it comes to money he’s already blown.”
He leaned his head back against the pillow and let out a sigh that sounded like it came from his soul. “Then Debbie jumped in, all high and mighty, whining about how it wasn’t fair that I got the business. Said I need to think about the whole family and stop being so damn selfish.”
Justice’s blood boiled so fast it was a wonder the IV pole didn’t rattle from the heat radiating off her.
She shot to her feet, the scrape of the chair loud and sharp against the floor. Pacing to the window, she crossed her arms tightly, trying to breathe her way through the red-hot fury roaring through her chest.
She counted to ten. Then twenty. Didn’t help. Spinning back around, she marched to her father’s bedside, sat down again with purpose, and reached for his hand. She folded her fingers around his, holding on as if to anchor them both.
“You don’t worry about them,” she said, her voice low, controlled, full of steel. “I’ll take care of it. I am taking care of it.”
But her father, ever the protector, shook his head. “Justice, it’s my job as your dad to protect you?—”
“Bullshit.” She interrupted, eyes blazing. “I’m thirty-two years old, co-owner of the family business, and right now…” She leaned in slightly, eyes locked on his. “I’m in charge.”
For a beat, there was silence. Then Jack burst out laughing, deep and full of pride. “I know I’m not much help at the moment,” he said between chuckles, “but I’m getting stronger every day. You heard the doctor. Full recovery. I just don’t want you running yourself ragged dealing with their crap on top of everything else. You’re already doing so damn much.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she asserted. “I have it all under control. And I can definitely handle your deadbeat brother and his boozy wife.”
At that, their eyes met, and they both laughed. It wasn’t the first time they’d found mirth in the midst of a storm. That was how their family had survived the worst moments… by sharing grit and humor.
Once the laughter faded, Jack looked down at their joined hands and sighed. “I’m sorry as hell I missed Charlie’s funeral.”
Justice leaned her head against his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not just sorry you missed my apple pie?”
