But deep down, I knew his words made sense.

And that pissed me off even more.

I could drown in my work. I could lose myself in the pursuit of something bigger. And Beverly—Beverly could feel forgotten.

Would she wait for me? Would she still love me in five years?

My throat closed up. I felt caged. Trapped.

“Your words are killing me, Dad.”

“Blake, you’re my son,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You always will be. I want you to know that, no matter what. One of the happiest days of my life was when you looked up at me and asked, ‘Can I call you Dad?’” His expression softened at the memory, but his words stayed firm. “But I brought you into this family to give you a future, not to see you throw it away.”

All I could do was swallow hard as rage and heartbreak blended together in my chest.

“I’d never want to deprive you of happiness,” he continued. “But I also won’t stand by and watch you destroy your future. Can’t you see that’s what I’m trying to do?”

“By keeping me away from her?” I choked out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “You think that’ll make me happy?”

“I think that by waiting, by giving her time to grow, you’ll give yourself the chance to love her the right way.”

I pushed my chair back, standing abruptly. “This is bullshit. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought me into this family at all.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and the moment they did, I wished I could take them back.

His face hardened, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “Blake, sit down.”

I shook my head and stormed toward the exit before I could think better of it. My chest was too tight, my vision blurred at the edges, and I knew that if I let this conversation drag out any longer, I would break apart right in front of him.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.

He was supposed to accept us. That was it. The conversation should’ve ended with his blessing, or at the very least, a reluctant nod of approval. Not this. Not rejection wrapped in concern, not careful words that barely concealed what he really meant.

I had told myself that he would accept it.

That was the only outcome I had allowed myself to believe in. Because if I had let myself consider the possibility of rejection, I might not have had the courage to face him at all.

But now, as I shoved the door open and stumbled outside, I felt like a fool. My breath came in uneven gasps as I pressed my forehead against the brick wall, swallowing the frustration that clawed at my throat. Why did love have to be this complicated?

The door swung open behind me. “Blake.”