Page 126 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
“Can I help you?”
He angles his head. “I’d heard you’d had a falling-out with that guy. I came to make sure you were okay. Heard your house had sold. I thought you might need help. Figured you were ready to come back home.”
I stare at him wide-eyed as everything starts to make sense. “You bought the house, didn’t you? You bought it so I wouldn’t have a place to live.” My blood boils. His pulling strings in my life is no longer acceptable.
“No. Never. Do you really think I’d buy property in this town of all places?” The disgust-laced defiance that tinges his denial has a few more heads turning in our direction in the bar. Backs and pride standing at attention.
Liam’s feet shuffle beside me. A warning growl sounds off deep in his throat that’s for my ears only.
How could I not have put two and two together? The real estate mogul would have known somehow it was up for sale. Used his insider knowledge to his advantage. Tried to run me back home by getting rid of the place where I live, in a town where room vacancies are few and far between.
I stare at this man whose blood I share and feel absolutely zero connection besides sadness. And missed moments that, no matter how hard I long for them, he’ll never be able to give me.
My resolve is stronger than ever when I speak again.
“Insulting the town you’re standing in isn’t going to win you any favors in this bar. Thank you for your concern, but it’s no longer needed. I think it’s best if you leave.” My voice wavers on the last word even though I stand tall. My anger fueling my tone rather than my fear.
His jaw pulses. The dislike of being dismissed by me of all people is the only transparent emotion he shows. I can pick up on his anger, though. Disappointment. Frustration. And I’m perfectly okay with it.
“You’re making yet another mistake, Gertrude. It’s a pity you can’t seem to make a man happy enough to keep him loyal.”
Fury heats my blood. My face turns beet red with embarrassment as he insults me in a bar full of my neighbors. I try to save face despite the rush of emotions vibrating through my body. “Zander was only here for the summer, Father. It was time for him to go back to his life.” My voice is loud enough so the customers can hear me. So I can hopefully make them believe what I’ve said and restore some of my dignity that has been run through the public wringer over the past few weeks.
He tucks his tongue in his cheek, eyes unyielding. “Oh. My apologies. I assumed the picture circling the Internet of him screwing RaceBunnyBabe Katy to be
the reason you weren’t together. Guess I figured that would be more damaging to your relationship than anything. But then again, seems you like to make a habit of playing the martyr in relationships. . . .”
His words paralyze me. The insinuation that I brought this on myself—with Ethan and with Zander—causes such a strong wave of diverse emotions that I don’t know which one to focus on. Humiliation. Anger. Surprise that he went there.
I stand looking at him with a slack jaw and a litany of words I want to say but can’t process quickly enough to combat the damage he just caused.
“I think it’s time you leave my bar.” It’s Liam who speaks. My father’s eyes move with methodical slowness over to his. They challenge. And mock. It’s only when chairs scrape across the floor as other locals stand up, cross their arms, and stare down my father that he takes a step back.
“Good-bye, Gertrude.” He nods his head and turns on his heel.
Then I finally sag against the counter. Breathe for the first time in what feels like hours. Try to comprehend everything that just happened. Try to overcome the disbelief that he’s going to buy the house just to force my hand to return home.
Liam runs his hand over my back. A small show of support on top of his strong stance in asking my father to leave.
And in a split second of time, it clicks. What he said.
I tear from behind the counter and out the front door like a madwoman. My mind stumbles over the idea. The why. The how. He was behind it all. The holy shit.
When I fling the door open, I look left, then right. Eyes searching for the gray jacket and the silver head of hair.
“Father!” I shout down the street, not caring who stops and pays attention to the crazy lady with wild eyes and a desperate voice.
He stops in his tracks. There’s a smug smile on his face when he turns around and walks back toward me. All my mind can process is that he thinks I want to go with him. That his ridicule has done what he wanted and worn me down so I’d realize I need him and Ethan to survive.
His arrogance knows no bounds.
“I knew you’d see things my way, Gertrude. Come.” He motions for me to follow him with visible impatience.
But I stand my ground. Hands on my hips as the door of the bar opens and closes behind me. The locals most likely all standing there to make sure I’m okay.
“How’d you know her name was Katy?” My words ring out across the distance, but from his reaction it’s like they slap him in the face. His accidental slip in the heat of the moment. It’s a split second of shock that flickers before it’s gone, and I know his every nuance, his different combative faces, yet never have I seen him surprised like this.
My heart pounds in my chest. My blood rushes in my ears. And hope . . . it surges and swells like a tidal wave threatening to pull me under its welcome haze, because I realized somehow my father knew the name of the mysterious woman when no one else does. Not even Zander himself.
