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Everyone’s thrilled.
Except Richard.
He’s staring at me like he’s calculating how deep to dig the hole out back. Then he stands, that low, grave tone making my stomach drop.
“Simon,” he says. “Let’s go talk.”
Blaire shoots me a sympathetic wince but doesn’t intervene. Not that I’d let her. I deserve whatever’s coming.
Behind Richard’s back, Carter mouths, Good luck.
“What the hell are you doing, Simon?” Richard growls the second the screen door clicks shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the house.
I straighten automatically, shoulders back, hands clasped behind me. It isn’t military training that puts me in this posture—it’s pure survival instinct. Facing down insurgents never made my pulse kick this hard.
Richard turns to face me fully, jaw tight, eyes sharp. “I know you’re better than that.”
The words land like a punch to the chest.
Because he’s right. He does know me. He’s seen every version—the kid hopelessly in love with his daughter, the teenager hell-bent on proving himself in the army, the young man who panicked and ran when things got too real, and the coward who let Blaire raise our son mostly alone those first years. He knows exactly how much good is in me, and exactly how much of a coward I can be when fear wins.
I swallow hard. “I’m in love with Blaire. I never stopped loving her.”
“Then what are you doing?” he snaps. “You think Blaire needs another heartbreak? Another round of you figuring your head out before you leave her to pick up the pieces again?”
I shake my head, voice rough. “No. That’s not—this isn’t like before.”
He steps closer. Not threatening, but solid, the weight of a father who would burn the world down for his daughter pressing between us.
“She’s been through enough, Simon. And now you want me to believe you’ve suddenly had a change of heart? That this isn’t just you being a jealous coward the second you found out she was finally starting to move on?” His voice tightens. “I don’t doubt that you love her. I can see it. But if you really loved her, you would’ve stayed away and let her be happy.”
My chest caves in.
“She deserves a good man,” he says quietly. “Not someone who leaves when things get hard.”
I have to look away. That truth burns too deep.
“I won’t,” I finally get out, voice low but steady. “Sir, I swear to you—I’m not leaving this time.”
He studies me for a long moment, then exhales heavily and rests a firm hand on my shoulder. Before I can react, he pulls me into a rough hug.
My throat closes up instantly. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and aftershave hits me, and for a second I’m seventeen again, standing on this same porch asking permission to take his daughter out.
“You’re a good man, Simon,” he says gruffly against my ear. “You made mistakes. But you’ve been a good father to Theo. My daughter’s a strong woman—she wouldn’t love you this much if you didn’t have good in you.”
My eyes sting.
“Thank you,” I manage, barely above a whisper.
He pats my back once, hard, then lets me go. “Don’t make me regret saying that.”
“You won’t,” I say firmly.
Richard nods. “Glad to have you back, son.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Call me Richard. Let’s get back in there before Blaire comes after me for keeping you.”
