32. Lemon
Chapter 32
Lemon
I 'm lounging by the pool, the sun beating down on my skin as I try to sort out the mess in my head. Atticus and Ezra. Ezra and Atticus. Their names swirl around my brain like the lazy ripples in the chlorine-blue water.
Fuck. What am I doing? I'm such an idiot, catching feelings like some lovesick teenager. I dig my toes into the warm concrete, trying to ground myself. They don't give a shit about me, not really. I'm just a plaything, a distraction. A curvy little toy they can wind up and set loose when they're bored. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I need the reminder.
But then I remember the way Atticus looked at me the other night, his ice-blue eyes softening for just a moment. And Ezra's laugh, the real one, not the fake chuckle he uses to charm people. The way his hand lingers on the small of my back.
No. Stop it, Lemon. You're being pathetic.
I'm about to dive into the pool to drown these thoughts when my phone starts blaring. I fumble for it, nearly dropping the damn thing in the water. The caller ID makes my heart skip.
"Dad?" I answer, my voice small and shaky.
"Hey, sweetheart." His familiar gravelly tone washes over me. "They let me out."
"What? How?" I sit bolt upright, my mind reeling.
"I don't have all the details yet. Something to do with St. Pierre." He pauses, and I can practically see him running a hand through his hair.
"Dad, what's going on? I don’t understand." I breathe, my heart racing.
"Stay put, Lemon. I'm gonna head over to Atticus' place. You're still there, right?"
My throat tightens. "Yeah, Dad. I'm here."
"Good. Stay there. I'll explain everything."
My mind is spinning, a thousand questions fighting to get out. But all I manage is a weak, "Okay, Dad."
"I gotta go now. I'll see you soon, Lemon. I love you."
The line goes dead before I can respond. I stare at my phone, mouth hanging open like a fucking goldfish. My dad. Free. After all these months. It doesn't seem real.
I've spent so long imagining this moment, but now that it's here, I feel like I'm gonna hurl.
I'm still trying to process when I hear Ezra's booming laugh echoing through the penthouse.
My head snaps up as Atticus and Ezra step out onto the pool deck, both looking annoyingly perfect.
Their smiles fade as they take in my shell-shocked expression. Ezra's eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa there, bellezza. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Atticus, ever the observant one, narrows his eyes. He strides toward me, his polished shoes clicking on the concrete. " Lemon," he says, his voice low and steady. "What's happened?"
I open my mouth, but no words come out. How do I even begin to explain? My dad, the man they both know is supposed to be locked up, is suddenly free.
Ezra crouches down beside me, his warm hand on my bare knee.
"Come on, babygirl," Ezra coaxes, his brown eyes filled with an intensity I rarely see. "Talk to us."
I take a deep breath, my gaze darting between them. "It's my dad," I finally manage to croak out. "He's…he's out. They let him out of prison."
The change in their expressions is immediate and unsettling. Atticus' jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Ezra's eyes widen, a flash of something crossing his face before he schools it back into concern.
"Well, shit," Ezra mutters, running a hand through his messy hair.
Atticus shoots him a warning glare before turning back to me. "Did he say anything else? Where is he? What happened?"
I shake my head, feeling like I'm drowning in confusion and half-formed suspicions. "Just that it had something to do with John St. Pierre and that he was coming by here to talk. I think he’ll be here soon, but I don’t actually know. I’m sorry I didn’t try to press him for more details.”
Atticus' face softens for a moment, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. "It's perfectly normal to be in shock, Lemon. This is unexpected news."
I lean into his touch, craving the comfort, but then his words from months ago echo in my head. The accusations, the doubt. My eyes snap open, anger flaring hot in my chest.
"I fucking told you," I spit out, jerking away from his hand. "I told you he didn't fuck you over. He would never have done it. Someone set him up and you cut off your own best friend, you asshole."
The words pour out of me like venom, months of pent-up frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. Ezra sucks in a sharp breath, taking a step back. But Atticus…Atticus' eyes darken dangerously.
In an instant, he's looming over me, his large hand wrapping around my throat. Not squeezing, just there. A warning. A promise.
"Watch your smart ass mouth, little girl," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You'll fucking pay for your sass and brattiness later."
My pulse quickens. I should be scared, should be backing down. But the adrenaline coursing through my veins makes me reckless.
I tilt my chin up defiantly, meeting his icy stare. "Bring it on."
Ezra lets out a strangled laugh, caught between amusement and disbelief. "Fuck, bellezza. You've got some balls on you."
Atticus' grip tightens ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over my racing pulse. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy putting you in your place later," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
The tension crackles between us, thick and heady. For a moment, I think he might kiss me, might throw me into the pool and take me right there.
I stand my ground, chin raised defiantly. "I'm not sorry for speaking the truth," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "My dad's innocent, and he's coming here. So you both better get your shit together before he arrives."
Atticus' eyes narrow dangerously, and for a moment, I think he might actually lose it. But then he takes a deep breath, smoothing down his already impeccable suit. "We'll discuss your attitude adjustment later," he says, his voice cold and promising.
I swallow hard, knowing I've pushed him to the edge. Part of me wants to apologize, to backtrack, but I push that urge down.
The sound of the intercom buzzing echoes through the penthouse, shattering the moment.
We all freeze, the reality of the situation crashing back down. My dad. He's here.
Atticus releases me, straightening up and smoothing down his suit. "Ezra, go let him in," he commands, his voice steady and controlled once more.
As Ezra disappears inside, Atticus turns back to me. His eyes are still dark with promise, but there's something else there, too.
"Whatever happens," he says quietly, "remember that you're mine now, Lemon."
Before I can respond, I hear my dad's voice, gruff and familiar, coming from the penthouse. My heart leaps into my throat.
I'm on my feet in an instant, nearly tripping over myself as I rush inside. My heart's pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else. Atticus is right behind me, his presence looming like a storm cloud, but I don't give a shit right now.
And then I see him.
My dad.
Fuck. He looks more different than he did when I visited. Older, somehow. His face is more lined, his hair a little grayer than I remember. There's a new hardness in his eyes, like he's seen things he can't unsee. He's lost weight, his once-beefy frame now leaner, more wiry. But it's the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the room, that really gets me. It's like he's expecting an attack at any moment.
None of that matters, though. He's here. He's real. He's free.
I launch myself at him, not giving a damn about how it looks or what anyone thinks. My arms wrap around his neck and I bury my face in his chest. It's like being a little girl again, safe in my daddy's arms.
"Oh god, Dad," I choke out, my voice muffled against his shirt. I'm crying, I realize distantly. Hot tears are soaking into the fabric, but I can't bring myself to care. "I missed you so fucking much."
His arms come around me, strong and secure. One hand cups the back of my head, just like he used to do when I was little. "I missed you too, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "More than you know."
I vaguely register a low growl from somewhere behind me. Atticus, probably. But I ignore it, focusing on the steady thump of my dad's heartbeat under my ear.
"I knew you were innocent," I whisper fiercely. "I never doubted you for a second."
Dad's arms tighten around me. "I know, Lemon. I know."
I pull back just enough to look at his face, drinking in every detail. He looks tired, so fucking tired, but there's a fire in his eyes that I haven't seen in years.
"What happened?" I ask, my voice small and shaky.
Dad's eyes flick over my shoulder, probably to where Atticus is standing. His jaw tightens. "It's a long story. And not all of it's pretty."
I feel my dad's arms loosen around me as he takes a step back. His eyes dart from me to Atticus, then over to Ezra, who's sauntered up to stand beside his partner in crime. The temperature in the room seems to drop about ten degrees.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Dad's voice is low, dangerous. It's the tone he used to use when I'd sneak out as a teenager, only cranked up to eleven.
I freeze, my fingers automatically going to my nails, picking at them nervously.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
How do I even begin to explain this clusterfuck?
"Please," Dad says, his eyes locked on Atticus now. "Please tell me what I think is happening is just my head fucking with me." His fists clench at his sides, knuckles going white. "I swear to fucking God, Atticus, I will kill?—"
"Now, now, Lawson," Atticus cuts in smoothly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Let's not jump to conclusions."
But Dad isn't having it. His face is turning an alarming shade of red, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "Conclusions? You want to talk about fucking conclusions?" He takes a menacing step forward. "How about we conclude why my twenty-two-year-old daughter has hearts in her eyes and both of you look at her like a piece of meat?"
I wince at his words, guilt churning in my stomach. I should say something, explain, but my tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of my mouth.
Ezra, the idiot, chooses this moment to chime in. "Come on, man. It's not what you think. We've been taking good care of your girl." He winks at me, and I want to fucking throttle him.
Dad's head snaps toward Ezra, his eyes narrowing dangerously. " Taking care of her?" he growls. "Is that what you call it?"
I can see the exact moment it all clicks for him. The way his eyes widen, then narrow to slits. The way his jaw clenches so tight I'm afraid he might crack a tooth.
"You sick fucks," he spits out. "She's half your age. My daughter. My fucking daughter!"
He lunges at Atticus, faster than I would've thought possible. His fist connects with Atticus' jaw with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling back.
"Dad, stop!" I cry out, finding my voice at last. I grab his arm, trying to pull him back, but it's like trying to move a mountain.
Ezra jumps in, wrapping his arms around Dad from behind, trying to restrain him. But Dad's running on pure rage now. He throws his head back, catching Ezra square in the nose. There's a crunch, and suddenly there's blood everywhere.