Page 8 of Forbidden Bond

“I appreciate the push, Dad. But I’ll figure out what I want to do on my own.”

He sounds a little disappointed, but he doesn’t push it. James Malone’s biggest talent is knowing which battles to fight and which ones to put off for another day. I’m already dreading the epic fight we’re going to have after graduation. Especially when he finds out I’m not ready to start working in archeology.

I thought it was my dream, and I still love it. I love learning about the past, and about different cultures from around the world. I’ve never really connected well with my present, and examining the remains of ancient lives has always intrigued me. Which is why I chose to major in anthropology. My dad fought me tooth and nail because he wanted me to choose criminology instead. He wanted to mold me into becoming like him, but ultimately, he let it go.

Now I’m sure he’s intent on ensuring I don’t do something other than what he chooses, which is pretty hard considering my heart’s not in it anymore. I’m sure I’ll find my passion again, but after college I don’t immediately want to start looking for a job that might end up being my entire life. I just want to be free for a little while. I want to find myself, and I’m not sure how to do it.

My dad keeps me on the phone for a little while longer. He talks to me about everything from the head of the investigations unit that’s pissing him off to his worry over my mom’s spending habit. I barely say a word, which is okay because he’s great at carrying a conversation all on his own. I love my father, but the man’s pretty much a narcissist.

“You’re still coming over for your mother’s birthday dinner, right? I never get to see you anymore, darling.”

Because you nitpick over everything and anything when you see me, I think coldly.

“Of course, Dad. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Alright. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Keep making me proud, honey. I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

He hangs up and I let out a soft breath. Conversations with my father usually leave me feeling drained. Every day it’s a struggle, whether to keep him happy or choose my own happiness. And it’s much harder because he truly believes that both things are one and the same. He believes he knows what’s best, everyone else be damned.

Jameson suddenly slides into the chair in front of me and I jump a little out of fright. I wasn’t expecting to see him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

He’s wearing loose-fitting cargos and a black Henley. I raise an eyebrow at the dark shades covering his eyes.

“Are you auditioning for a spy movie or something? Why the shades?” I question. “And how did you find me here?”

“I can always find you,” he says. “And the shades are my attempt at being conspicuous on campus. Just in case Abby shows up,” he replies.

Abby’s his crazy ex. And when I say crazy, I mean batshit insane. She was a sweetheart when their relationship started and by the time they broke up two months later, she was a full-blown stalker. Jameson has always had the worst taste in women. Most of them.

“Just file a restraining order,” I tell him, taking a sip of my iced coffee.

He shrugs before leaning forward and swiping one of my cupcakes. I glare, but it barely has any effect. Jameson has been stealing my food since we were five.

“What do you want, anyway? Besides to annoy me.”

“You know, one of these days, you’ll come to appreciate my amazing presence in your life.”

“I doubt that day will come any time soon.” I finish my coffee and look at him, giving him my full attention. If he sought me out, it means he wants something, and I want to know what. “Spit it out, Jamie.”

He smirks. “You know I love you, right? Like, if they asked me to name the people I would take a bullet for, the list starts and ends with you.”

“You once told me that if Tessa and I were drowning, you’d save her first and leave me to the sharks.”

He grins. “I was thirteen and hopelessly in love with your sister. You can’t blame me for that.”

He says that like he’s not still hopelessly in love with her. Jameson has made a move on my older sister more times than I can count. The advances stopped two years ago, however, when Tessa got married.

“I think very differently now,” Jameson says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Alright, fine.” He leans down to whisper conspiratorially. “There’s a party tomorrow-”

And that’s where I pull the brakes.

---