Page 105 of Burning Skies
What is this, the eighteen hundreds? “Hi, Vernon. It’s nice to see you too. Did you bring your shotgun as well?”
“No, but I should’ve. Seeing you here was just a stroke of luck.” He chews on a toothpick and glares at me. “I hear y’all are having a bad week.”
I grit my teeth, not wanting to take his bait.
“Know where I’m headed?” he asks, leaning on my window. “The private airport. Wanna know why?”
“To go on a trip?”
“You’re not as dumb as you look.” Turning, he spits out the toothpick, and I finally glance at him. He’s lost weight since I saw him last. “I’m flying on my private jet, which is a luxury my daughter also has when she’s not slumming it with you.”
“I’m not sure why you’re punishing Honey for this. She loves you. Why would you want to hurt her? I’m never gonna try to take her money. I’m not a gold-digger.”
Chuckling, he crosses his arms. “You say that now, but what if you have kids? They’ll be Walkers, and they’ll stand to inherit what rightfully belongs to the McAllister bloodline.” He smirks. “If you think you can put an advertisement in the newspaper to solidify your relationship, think again.”
“I had nothing to do with the gossip column.”
“Spare me.” He rubs his palm over his white mustache. “Just think on this. Next time you’re at Honey’s house, look at her jewelry. Look at all the gold necklaces and bracelets I’ve bought her over the years. Take a long look at my house. At my property. Can you provide for her like I can? Like Ian Fairchild can? Because he’ll keep her outfitted like I did. With horses and properties and overflowing investments. What can you give her? Some ramshackle cabin? Some rusted equipment and a fireman’s pension?”
The last time I felt this small, my father was drunk and tried to kick my ass because I forgot to lock a gate. I grip the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles turn white. “It’s ironic you were never friends with Gus. You two have a lot in common.” They’re both fucking bullies.
Disgust contorts his expression. “I have nothing in common with that piece of trash.”
You sure about that, Vernon? “What about what Honey wants? Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”
“She’s too young to know what’s good for her.” His stare hardens. “And what’s not.”
Someone honks behind me. ’Cause we’re parked in the middle of the street. He spits as he turns on his heel back to his truck.
What the fuck just happened?
40
BEAU
I’m not gonna lie.Vernon McAllister fucked with my head.
I drive around town aimlessly for a while to gather my thoughts. Am I hurting Honey by staying with her? Would she be better off with that douchebag Ian? Do I really have anything to offer her?
When I pass her favorite diner, I return to my senses. I’m supposed to get Honey soup. I hit reverse and park.
But now I can’t shake the feeling that her father’s right. That she deserves someone better than me. Someone who can offer her all the luxuries she grew up with.
When I return to my truck with our dinner, it makes me wonder. Did Honey ask for soup because she thinks I can’t afford to get her something nicer?
I get to her house and sit in the driveway for a minute.Get your shit together, man. Honey can make up her own damn mind. Respect her enough to let her decide.
When she opens the door, she has her hair up in a messy bun and she’s wearing pajamas, her fluffy robe, and duck slippers. She’s fucking adorable. “Hi, princess.” I hug her with my free arm. “Good to see you.” It feels like a million years sincewe’ve hung out. Her sweet smile calms down the hurricane of emotion swirling in my gut.
How the hell do I tell her about that run-in with her father and the gossip column? I’ve barely seen her this week, and now we need to talk about that crap.
She gets us bowls, and we sit on her couch to eat. After that, I reach for the sandwich I brought. “Would you like half of this?”
“No, please enjoy it. I’m really full. The soup was perfect. Thank you for bringing it.”
For a girl who grew up with everything, she’s surprisingly easy to please. I ignore the little voice in my head that says she asked for soup because she thinks I’m poor. “It’s my pleasure.” After I down a few bites of my sandwich, I try to take a breath. “Sorry I’m stuffing my face. I’m starving. The soup was good, but I need a little more.” Plus, eating means I don’t have to talk.
Honey squeezes my biceps. “You’re a growing boy.”
