“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I’ve set up an account for you. It’s all the money you’ve earned over the years. I never touched it,” he said.

“What?” I gaped at him.

“I told you in the beginning, it was the principle of the matter. So I set the money aside, and it’s yours. And after we’re married, I’ll get you the account information and cards to access it.”

“After we’re married?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“So there are strings attached?” I asked.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to act too out of character,” he said.

Despite myself, I laughed. “Well, I guess there’s something to that. So you’ve just forgotten it. Put me through all that shit only to give me the money back,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said with a shrug.

I laughed, annoyed, but also feeling butterflies in my stomach.

What he’d done was twisted, but sweet in a way that I wouldn’t ever have expected from him.

I looked at him. “Breakfast was great, but you’re a fucking psycho,” I said.

“Yeah. You should get dressed. I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said.

Eighteen

EIGHTEEN

Kayla

“Kayla, who’s car is this?” my father asked about a week after his heart attack.

He’d stayed a few days longer than we’d expected, but he’d finally gotten discharged.

Now, my mother had him settled in the passenger seat, wrapped in blankets, even though he was complaining.

We were sitting in the parking lot while she went to the pharmacy and picked up his medicine and a few other things.

I had been anticipating this question since I’d pulled up to the hospital.

The only answer was the truth.

“You know whose car this is, Daddy,” I said.

He didn’t respond, but he was tapping his fingers on the console.

After a moment, he looked at me and said, “Same person who paid the hospital bill, I suppose?”

“Yeah,” I responded.

Elias had been true to his word.

When my father had been preparing for discharge, I had pulled one of the nurses aside and asked about the bill.

She had directed me to one of the hospital business managers, who had smiled and said, “It’s all been taken care of, Miss Dutton.”

I had been somewhat stunned, more relieved than I cared to admit, and nervous about just this conversation.

Even though I didn’t want to have it.

“It’s been taken care of, Daddy. So you don’t need to worry about it. You know the stress isn’t good for you,” I said.

“What’s not good for me is wondering what you did or will have to do to get him to cover that bill,” my father said.

I didn’t answer immediately, instead focusing on keeping my temper.