Page 144 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“Good,” he said, surprising me. “It should terrify you. Because that fear is what’s kept you on the right path.”

I looked up at him, confused.

“You think I don’t know what kind of man I am, Rhett? What kind of father I was? I made my choices, and now I’m living with the consequences. But you? You’ve made different choices. Better choices. And maybe part of that is because you were so determined not to be me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t apologize for telling the truth, son. You’ve got every right to feel that way.” He leaned forward, his voice intense. “But let me tell you something. You might have my eyes and my stubborn streak, but you’ve got something I never had. You’ve got integrity. You’ve got the courage to walk away from the easy money and shortcuts and all the bullshit that our family built their lives on. You think that’s easy? You think that doesn’t take strength?”

I swallowed. “It never felt easy.”

“I’ve been in here a long time,” he continued. “Years of watching other men come and go and seeing what this life really costs. And in all that time, the thing I’m most proud of is that my son chose a different path. That he had the balls to break the chain that’s been dragging our family down for generations.”

“You make it sound so dramatic, Dad⁠—”

“You might be the toughest of all of us, son. Takes more courage to build something than it does to tear it down. Takes more strength to walk away from a fight than it does to throw the first punch.” He paused, his eyes bright. “I’m proud of you, son. Proud of the man you’ve become, proud of the woman you’ve found, proud of the life you’re building. And if staying away from this place helps you stay on the right path, then maybe that’s what you should do.”

The words hit me like a freight train. All these years, I had been carrying around this guilt that I was abandoning him. I felt like I was being a coward for not visiting more often. But he was telling me that he understood and he was proud of me for choosing differently.

“I don’t want to abandon you,” I said, my voice rough with emotion.

“You’re not abandoning me. You’re living your life. There’s a difference.” He smiled, and for a moment, I saw the father I remembered from my earliest childhood, before everything went wrong. “Besides, you came today. Brought that beautiful girl with you. That tells me everything I need to know about where your heart is.”

“Thanks.”

We talked for another twenty minutes about my restaurant and the charity work. We discussed his hopes for parole someday and memories of better times. When visiting hours were over, he hugged me even when a guard tried to tell him not to.

“Take care of that girl,” he said in my ear. “And don’t wait so long to come see your old man next time.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

The walk back through the security checkpoints felt different this time. Lighter, like I had set down a burden I’d been carrying for years without realizing it. When I finally made it outside, I found Clem leaning against my car, her face turned up to catch the weak winter sun.

She looked radiant in her simple black coat and dark jeans. She looked like hope personified, like everything good in the world wrapped up in one perfect woman.

I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to her and kissed her with everything I had. It was full body, holding nothing back as I poured all my gratitude and love and desperate need for her into that single moment of connection.

When we finally broke apart, she was breathless and laughing. “What was that for?” she asked.

I cupped her face in my hands, marveling at the softness of her skin, the warmth in her eyes.

“Life is short,” I said. “People make mistakes. But you and me? We’re the farthest thing from a mistake.” I took a shaky breath. “I love you, Clementine Hartley.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.