Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent. Can I have a word with Callan alone?”
Baird gave me a good luck look before he strolled off to wait by the lift.
“Beth cares about you.”
I straightened my shoulders. “I care about her. A great deal.”
Her father searched my face. “I told her I’d get to know you and I will.”
That sounded like a threat.
“Which is more than I’ve ever given any of her other boyfriends. That should tell you how much you mean to her and how much her feelings matter to me.”
“Of course.”
“You seem like a nice bloke, Callan, so please don’t take offense when I tell you that if you hurt my daughter, I will come for you in every way I possibly can.” His expression hardened. “Your dreams of a real estate business. Poof. Gone in a puff of fucking smoke. But that won’t compare to how it’ll feel to have your nutsack ripped off. You get me?”
We were silent a moment as I tried to keep my anger in check. I reminded myself that this was what parents who gave a shit did to protect their children. And there was no doubt in my mind that Braden Carmichael would ruin me if I hurt Beth.
If I hurt Beth, I’d deserve it.
“I love her.”
Braden considered me. “Well, you’re a step up from the last one. He almost pissed his pants when I threatened to staple his dick to his desk.”
My lips curled up at the corners. “Is Beth aware you go around threatening the men in her life?”
“Men?” he huffed. “None of them were men. They were wee boys who could barely look after themselves, never mind my daughter.” Braden nodded to himself. “I can see you potentially could be different, though.”
I bristled. “Look, I love Beth and I want us to get along … but for the record, I don’t need anyone’s fucking approval.”
A slow smile spread on Braden Carmichael’s face.
And damn. I think that meant he might respect me just a bit. Twisted SOB.
I shook my head, curbing my own smile. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
“See you then.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
BETH
Things between Callan and I were great for a few days after our chat and after his meeting with Dad. He wouldn’t tell me what Dad had said to him, but he assured me it was all good and that Dad had invited Baird to Sunday dinner too. I took that as a positive sign.
However, Callan came home from training on Thursday in a horrendous mood because Gavin had shown up at the grounds again. This time drunk, pissed off, and threatening to sell lies to the tabloids if Callan didn’t give him money.
It seemed to be the last straw for Callan, who finally had him banned from the grounds.
Ever since, he’d been distant with me. Again.
“I’m not sure I can take it,” I told Mum forlornly.
We sat in a café not far from the university. I’d been into the studio to record an episode of Seek and You Shall Find. First, I’d chatted with Lily, Sierra, and Madison about ignoring the feud with the boys because it was derailing the podcast. Aye, it had brought in a lot of new listeners in the beginning, but their data showed they were losing listeners now. They agreed to let the rivalry go, and we discussed Social Queens taking them on as a client at a discounted rate.
Afterward, Mum met me for lunch. Ever since our talk at the weekend, she’d been calling and texting me every day. I knew she felt guilty, but I also wanted her to know she didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. Did it make me feel a million times better to know my mum understood exactly what it felt like to suffer with anxiety and panic attacks? One hundred percent. But her story was her story and like I’d needed time to tell mine, she was entitled to tell me hers when she was ready.
For now, I was happy to indulge her constant need to check in. I loved my mum. She was one of the coolest, smartest, funniest people I knew and one of my absolute favorite humans. And I loved spending time with her.
And right then, I needed Mum. I’d spent the last fifteen minutes telling her about Callan, Gavin, and this wall my boyfriend kept throwing up between us.
“You can’t take the distance?”
“I can’t take the up and down of it all. It plays into my anxiety, you know.” I chewed nervously on my lip. “When he puts up that wall, I start to catastrophize. He assures me he’s merely adjusting to being in a relationship, to feeling so much for me … but tell that to my head. Last night we were sitting on the couch, and I moved across it to snuggle into his side. I felt him tense up.” Hurt flared in my chest at the memory. “And then he abruptly announced he was tired and going to bed. Which he did, practically jumping out of my arms. It’s not his responsibility to change his behavior to avoid poking at my anxiety bear … but maybe this means we’re not compatible.” The thought was utterly heartbreaking.