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“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Dad sighs yet again. “We’re just worried about Willow, okay? You can’t blame Martin for being worried about his own daughter.”
I can blame Martin for a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them. He’d have to actuallybeworried about her, which we all know he isn’t. Not really.
“She’s safe.We’resafe. Okay?”
Dad doesn’t respond for a long, tense moment. I look up at Demyen again, who meets my gaze with fury glazing over his eyes. I know he’s got a history with my father and a score to settle…
But this is something different.
I flatten my palms on the desk to contain my own growing frustration. “Willow ismydaughter and I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect her. Even when—no,especiallywhen I have to protect her from Martin. I don’t care if he’s her father; he doesn’t have the right to hurt her or scare her.”
I don’t realize I’m shaking until I feel Demyen’s hand cover mine. He doesn’t grab me, just presses his fingers on mine and makes me look at him.
Look at me and don’t look away.
I’m saying things I’ve been wanting to say for years. For a lifetime. And I’m horrified at the reality that I’m having to say them for the sake of my child rather than myself because history is so close to repeating itself.
But as I keep my gaze locked with Demyen’s, I also realize that history changed the moment we ran into each other at his casino. Maybe even earlier than that.
Because with Demyen in the picture… just like he said, no matter what happens between us, Willow is safe. Protected. Cherished.
Everything I needed to be when I was her age.
“Let’s meet up. For coffee.” Dad’s voice breaks the tense silence. “My treat.”
“I don’t know if that’s?—”
“You’ll be fine, Clar-Bear. I promise. I just want to see you. You’re my daughter and I need to make sure you’re safe, too.” He clears his throat as if he was about to get emotional. I’m so used to him putting on fronts, but part of me really wants to believe he cares. “How about tonight? Six o’clock?”
I gently scoff. “A bit late for coffee, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. I’m still on night shift cycles sometimes. Tomorrow morning then? Breakfast?”
Now, Demyen squeezes my fingers, but in warning. I choose to ignore him. “Sounds great. Your usual?”
“You got it. Oh, and Clara?”
I still.Here comes the backlash…“Yeah, Dad?”
“Give my grandbaby hugs and kisses for me. I miss her.”
The strange thing is, I don’t doubt that. He’s not winning Father of the Year awards anytime soon, but he’s always been a doting grandfather to Willow. Whenever he’s around, that is, which isn’t as often as one would expect. But not once has he ever raised his voice, or his hand, to my baby girl. In a weird sort of way, he’s the kind of grandfather I needed him to be as my father.
It doesn’t make sense—but since when did my life ever make sense?
“I will.”
The second he hangs up, Demyen stops the recording app. “I don’t like it.”
I furrow my brow. “Which part?”
“All of it. I don’t want you to meet with him.”
I scoff. “Excuse me?”
Demyen braces his hands on the desk and leans in. “It’s a trap, Clara. An obvious one.”
“How could you?—”
