Wilde Eats is Park Mountain’s most beloved restaurant. It’s been around longer than I’ve been alive and has seen multiple renovations as the times change. Recently, it’s undergone a modern upgrade with sleek metals and warm woods. Despite the high-end feel to it, Wilde Eats still boasts the same menu it’s had since its inception. Juicy, tender steaks, savory seasonal casseroles, and secret-recipe pies that lure in tourists from sea to shining sea.

It was also Mom’s favorite place to eat.

We all frequent Wilde Eats. Well, everyone except Jude. Mom’s death haunts him the worst.

“Hey, Mr. Park,” a friendly, young voice chirps. “Your dad’s already waiting for you.”

I recognize the student from a couple years ago who’s since graduated—a freckle-faced girl who spent every class cheek down on the desk and drooling.

“Miss Thompson,” I greet with a nod. “Hope you’re doing well.”

She grins and wiggles a hand at me that reveals a thin gold band with a speck of a diamond. “Mrs. Wendell now.”

“As in Josh Wendell?”

“Got pregnant after high school and he made an honest woman out of me.”

“Congratulations.”

I leave her at the hostess stand and wonder if Josh is still a loser. The kid barely ever came to class. He failed statistics miserably. But people change. For their sake and the kid’s, I hope he did.

Dad sits in a booth by one of the big windows that offers a picturesque view of Park Mountain. The lodge, twinkling and massive, can be seen in the distance beyond the thick trees that blanket the mountain. He’s dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit, having come straight from the office. I’m made aware of the fact we’re wearing an eerily similar suit, which makes my skin crawl.

I am not like him.

“Dad,” I greet, voice flat and emotionless.

He turns his attention from the window to take my presence in. His icy blue eyes skate over me and then, in a dismissive way, he picks up his wine glass and brings it to his lips.

I slide into the booth and roll my head over my shoulders, attempting to force my tense muscles to relax. Being near Dad never fails to keep me wound the fuck up.

“I see Gemma has you doing her bidding,” Dad says as he pours me a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. “How’d she manage that?”

“She’s a good kid.” I shrug and pick up my glass. “Plus, she’s really good at begging until you give in.”

Dad smiles in a warm, fond way that irritates me. The twins, even Dempsey’s bad ass, have always been his favorites. Even over Hugo, which is quite a feat since my older brother literally does everything in his power to please Dad.