“Carly—”

“You’ll always be my father, and I’ll always want you in my life. No matter who I end up with.”

“You don’t need anyone, Carly. You can stay here with your mother and me.”

“Austin Bridger aside, you know I can’t do that.”

He sighs. “I know. I just didn’t think you’d be ready to leave us so soon.”

“I didn’t say I was leaving you. I came back, didn’t I? It was Austin who drove me here. He doesn’t want to get between us.”

“Then he shouldn’t have—”

“He hasn’t done anything, Daddy, except make me feel special. And important. And enough.” When he stays silent, I prod, “Is it Austin Bridger you have a problem with? Or is it any man who might find me appealing?”

“I don’t like the Bridgers,” he says gruffly.

“You’ve made that more than clear,” I remind him. “And I’ll tell you again. You don’t know the Bridgers. Not these Bridgers. Please give them a chance. For me.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, and then he rubs his jawline. “I can’t do this right now, Carly.”

“But I came home.”

He nods. “I know you did. And I appreciate that more than you know, but let me sleep on this. I need to get my head on straight. It’s been a harrowing day for everyone. As mayor, I have to figure out what to tell the town about the dead body.”

I can only nod, because he’s right about that. As for the rest, it’s a start, although I have a feeling I have a long way to go to convince my father of anything.

28

AUSTIN

“She’ll come back to you,” Miles says, when I return.

I don’t meet his gaze as I drop the keys on a side table that looks like a slab of wood. “I’m not in the mood to talk about it right now.”

He’s in the great room and a ballgame is on the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall in a nook beside the massive fireplace. Whoever the interior designer was on the place did an amazing job. It makes my mom’s house look so… average.

Will I ever get used to what billions can afford?

“Are you in the mood to drink about it instead?” Chance holds up a beer bottle from his position on a leather couch. His boots are off and his sock-covered feet are up on an ottoman that also serves as an oversized coffee table.

“Brother,” I say, “you’re going to have to give me something a lot stronger than that.”

I’m tired. Dealing with Sea-Air, and then my mom in the ER, and then flying home in a hustle because of a dead body? That’s plenty. Then Carly being in the middle of that and dealing with her asshole father? Yeah, I’m thrilled she chose me, but fuck, if I want to be with Carly, I need to get her old man to like me. I have no idea how to do that other than to change my name and walk away from the money I’ve inherited. The money I need to either build the seaplane business back up or start it from scratch and ensure Mom has the best treatments money can buy.