Page 59 of Bossy Grump's Secret

That explains his rotten demeanor, but I still have many questions. Layla beats me to ask hers first. "How does his crime bust translate to his hate toward you, Dylan, and Ava?”

“You don’t get it?” Dad steps in. “We singlehandedly, knowingly or not, thwarted his business. He definitely wants revenge.”

“Okay…then, he could just come for you…” she pushes. Harsh, but yes. I agree.

“If a wicked servant cannot harm his master, what does he do?” Dad strokes his goatee. I see Layla struggle with the proverb.

Youngling.

"He maims his favorite goat," I complete it, realizing what he means by that.

“It also didn’t help that you jumped in to help Ava, almost playing hero the same way I did the first time as well,” he adds, as another layer of reasoning to help it make sense.

“Like some kind of déjà vu. That’s why he eventually went for me in the end…and not Ava,” I sigh.

“One reason why I really wanted your identity to remain hidden,” Mom speaks. I just don’t know how he would have known.

"Hey, why didn't he get arrested when you knew he was involved in the trafficking?" I ask Dad.

He stokes his neatly trimmed goatee and chuckles, “Gary Dillinger would have been sentenced to death on multiple charges if he wasn’t related to the police chief then. He is retired but still has a hold on the current man on the force. It’s a mess, Dylan, and there's just so much we're thankful for. The police killed him, not you or anyone else, so his brother has no reason to come after you. Besides, the ex-chief isn't a criminal…just corrupt."

Dylan

“You did what!? I’m the one that’s supposed to tell her! Mom!” I exclaim. This isn’t good. This definitely isn’t good.

My reaction to hearing that Ava already knows my true identity is as they expect: mild expressions of disappointment. I'm not one for moping about an action already taken. There's no way my family would lie to me…especially not Layla, who tells me that Mom must have said something to upset her, hence her not coming to see me.

I try her phone, where I have piled dozens of messages daily for the week, I've been in the ICU.

…not a single reply.

I majorly reacted when Layla told me what had transpired between Ava and Mom.

“I was scolding her, Dylan.” Mom casts an innocent look that is really an expression of her guilt. I know she doesn’t like Ava. It baffles me. She has only met the girl face-to-face once…when I was unconscious and then never again, prior or after. Her foreknowledge of Ava is what I’ve told her - mostly good things.

“It’s not my fault that she’s hot-headed.” She crosses her hands and lets out a defensive statement.

I knew it!

"Have you ever tried to scold Layla, and it ended well?" I ask. Layla widens her eyes, not expecting a direct comparison.

Sorry, Lays. I have to save my relationship.

“No, Layla is a dry twig in an arid desert. It’s futile to correct her," Mom pouts. "…but you know, this is different. I'm not obligated to accept her attitude as I would my daughter's,” she asserts.

"Ah, favorites, I see." I stand and pace the room. I'm due to be discharged today because I have healed well.

"You play favorites with your children unless you're bound by ordinance to exert the role of a guardian over others."

That makes sense, but I still have a few words left in my mouth. Words are my weapons to win this argument, the one I know my mother is avoiding but wants to win badly. You can't win a fight you avoid. You've gotta face it.

“But Ava is pregnant with my child, Mom. Your grandchild. Isn’t that ordinance enough?” I ask, putting an emotional emphasis on the question.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate her bullshit when I could curb it now. It certainly doesn’t mean I’ll allow someone whose only interest in my son for what he offers to come into his life and wreak havoc. She almost had you killed!" she cries.

“I almost had myself killed...” is my counter. It’s soft, without the harshness of an argument, but it’s just as resolved. That’s when the next voice speaks up, causing me to jump because I didn’t think anyone else was in the room besides Mom and Layla.

“Dylan is a man I’m proud of, darling.” Recognizing my father’s voice, my guard lowers.

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