Chapter 40
Parker
Sometimes trying was excruciatingly painful.
I needed to prove to Clover that I was all in and wanted to make this work. I had racked my brain thinking about what mattered most to her, and the answer was pretty simple: her family. So I had flown them all out.
I’d considered chartering them a jet, but I had a feeling that would be a bit too extravagant for them.
The last thing I wanted was them judging me before they even met me.
Then again, who was I kidding? Of course they were judging me.
I’d upset their daughter and they were smart men.
They knew how precious their child was. I was just the inconsiderate fuck-face who had made her cry.
Clover had lit up when her dads arrived, and for a short time, I was inexplicably proud of myself.
I had made her that happy. Only, as the visit continued, I felt more and more off-center.
Clover and I were from opposite worlds. Not just financially—I already understood we came from vastly different backgrounds—but emotionally.
Clover had been raised with the kind of love and involvement I had never experienced with my parents.
Her fathers valued their time and energy in ways my fathers didn’t, so how was I supposed to value it the same?
Why couldn’t we pay for someone to handle the jobs we struggled with?
The stupid crib had been impossibly difficult to build, and her father insisting I continue had only led to us both storming off.
The moment I had, I’d admonished myself for acting like a petulant teenager.
Sitting with Clover and finishing that crib had brought me more joy than expected.
Pride in having done the job myself burned bright in my chest, and I hardly ever felt that.
Not when I’d gotten my degree or started my company.
Maybe Clover was onto something. It was hard to experience existential dread when the results of my labors were literally manifesting in my hands, and now my child was going to be sleeping in a crib that I had built for them—with Clover’s considerable assistance.
I gave myself a few days of diving into work while the others took turns touring the dads around the city. I had to jump back into the fray soon, though.
My contemplation scotch was calling my name, and I made my way toward the kitchen, pulled out the bottle, and poured myself a liberal glass.
“Hey, kid, you look exhausted,” John said, rounding the corner in his pajamas and a robe. I knew it was late—the pitch-black darkness outside the windows confirmed that—but I hadn’t looked at the time.
“I don’t think I’ve been called a kid in a long time,” I admitted, taking a sip of my scotch. “What’re you doing up so late?”
He shrugged. “You get up a lot when you get old. Usually a glass of water and a few laps around the house get me back to sleep.”
“You’re hardly old.” I held up my glass. “Do you want one?”
John chuckled, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, considering that bottle probably costs more than my yearly income. Haven’t had a good scotch in a while.”
My ears burned as I poured him a glass and handed it over. He wasn’t wrong; I had expensive taste in alcohol. Who was I kidding? I had expensive taste in everything.
John took a sip and hummed appreciatively. “Damn, that is some smooth alcohol. Almost no burn.”
“I hope you’re happy with what you’ve seen here.
It’s a lot to trust us with your daughter,” I said, hating how much I wanted his approval.
I was never entirely certain if my own fathers approved of my life—they never said otherwise, but I’d always struggled to read them—and I desperately wanted Clover’s fathers to believe we were good men, even with how deeply I’d fucked up.
Did they even know the full extent of it?
John cocked his head. “It’s been a mixed bag, really.”
I snorted lightly, looking into my glass. “I’ve got a lot to make up for.” Apparently, I was going to poke that bear. If they didn’t already, would they appreciate the honesty, or would it irreparably damage their opinion of me?
“Do you?”
“Did she…tell you about the contract?” I swallowed hard, waiting for his answer.
John observed me carefully, his face impassive and unreadable. “Should she have?”
Fuck. They didn’t know. Why hadn’t Clover told them? “I…God, I fucked up with it. I’m still learning who she is and how much I can trust her, and I erred too hard on the side of not trusting her at all.”
“Why?” John asked, his voice flat, though it was impossible to mistake the way his shoulders tensed. “What did you see that made you not trust her?”
“My own stupid imaginings, mostly. I thought I recognized a dangerous pattern, but I never accounted for fate, or a scent match, or her bonding into the pack. I tried to make her an outsider, legally speaking. I was willing to pay for what she needed with the baby and raising it, but originally, I thought that was all she wanted and that I needed to protect my pack from her overreaching after she’d gained a foothold with us, but that’s—” I growled, pinching the bridge of my nose, as if that would relieve the pressure of my shame.
“That’s not what Clover was after at all, and I understand that now, but it doesn’t erase what I did before I knew. ”
“You’re not used to trusting folks, are you?” John asked carefully.
“Not really. Everyone always has an ulterior motive.”
The tiniest hint of a smile tweaked the corners of John’s mouth.
“Not Clover. What you see is what you get with her, she’s always been like that.
Sometimes it’s to her detriment. She’s upfront, to the point, and if she doesn’t like you, she makes no secret of that.
Not everyone appreciates that sort of honest personality. ”
“She does make it perfectly clear when she doesn’t like you. I’ve stepped in it more than once with her, unfortunately, but I swear I’m trying. I’ve never met anyone like her, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize how little I actually know.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “Working off your idea of her instead of what’s in front of your face?”
“Something like that.” I sighed, taking another large sip.
“But I think I’m getting there. Maybe slowly, but surely.
I’ve apparently been making a lot of false assumptions, including about my own family.
My mother set me straight, but I genuinely had no idea she was involved in the family business or what the role of a high-society omega even could be. It’s an adjustment.”
“I can only imagine,” John said gently before nudging the topic toward another path. “I saw that you and Peanut made the crib. I’d have told you what a good job you did if you hadn’t made yourself so scarce.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think it would be so satisfying to make it myself, but now that I’ve done it…”
“Have you really never had to do a manual job for yourself?”
“Nope.” I shook my head, laughing. “Woodworking and furniture building weren’t skills my parents saw fit to learn or pass on to me. I had everything handed to me in that regard.” I paused for a second, staring at my drink. “But that’s not the life I want for my child.”
John’s eyebrows rose. “Explain.”
“When Clover talks about her childhood, she talks about how involved you were. You were working, but no matter what, you were there for every milestone. You’ve taught Clover her worth, gave her amazing confidence, and raised an amazing woman.”
“Thank you. We tried our best,” John said, his chest puffing up with pride.
“My dads loved me in their own way, but they weren’t around much. My every need was taken care of—I had nannies and chefs and all that stuff.”
“But what about your emotional well-being?” John asked with a frown.
“Mom tried. I don’t think my dads really considered that until we were adults,” I admitted. “That’s not very nice to say, I suppose, but—”
“It’s how you feel,” John interrupted. “I’d hope they were doing their best in the only way they knew how, but even someone’s best can fuck things up, and that’s never more true than with parenting. I guess that explains a lot about you.”
“That doesn’t make what I did okay, though,” I said.
Running a hand through my hair, I looked around the kitchen, not wanting to meet his stern but concerned gaze.
John was surprisingly good at getting me to spill my guts about my deep emotional issues with my family in a way I had never been able to with my own.
“But it’s good that you recognize it’s not okay. I won’t lie—we came here expecting to take Clover home with us.”
My mouth went dry at his words. I had no doubt that he would have taken his daughter and gone back to Seattle, but the thought of that made me break out in a cold sweat.
“Until this conversation,” John continued, “that was my plan, regardless of her bargain with you all to give things a month.”
“And now?”
“Parker, how do you feel about Clover?”
“I…” How did I feel? Obviously I craved her—though I wasn’t saying that out loud to her father—but the rest? “I think she’s a good fit for the others. She matches Avery in his chaos, Logan adores her, and Hunter might actually work less with her being around.”
“Parker,” John said firmly, “that’s not what I asked.”
I wilted under his gaze. I was probably losing his respect by the second, if I’d ever even had it. “I don’t know.”
I bristled at his sigh.
“You owe yourself honesty. I think you’re a good kid, Parker.
You acknowledge what you did wrong, and you’re working toward making amends, but that’s all going to come to nothing if you can’t come to the truth inside yourself.
Now, I’ll ask you again, and if I don’t hear the truth come out of your mouth, this conversation will be over. Got it?”
“Got it.” My throat felt like a fucking desert.
“How do you feel about Clover?”
“I like being around her,” I began carefully, “even when she frustrates me, and even more when she challenges me. I think my life would be worse without her in it. She’s like a puzzle box I’m desperate to figure out, and not because she’s mysterious; it’s closer to her being a new language I have to learn, but I like the way it feels and sounds.
I want to keep learning her. Maybe I’ll never learn it all, or maybe she’ll get sick of me before I have the chance.
She taught me that effort is what’s important, so I guess I’m hoping she won’t change her mind on that, that she’ll see me trying and it’ll be enough. ”
“And what’s a word that encompasses all that?” John asked with a satisfied smirk. “Maybe starts with L?”
My heart was going to beat right out of my chest at this rate. “I can’t say that. She’d probably push me into our succulent garden.”
John stood imposingly next to me and opened his arms, waiting until I awkwardly rose and accepted the hug I hadn’t expected. He squeezed me hard, like he was trying to heal the cracks left over by the absence of my dads growing up. I wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel like a few of them filled in.
“Clover likes plain statements,” John said as he stepped back, leaving his hands on my shoulders. “Figure your shit out, so you can have the life you want. I’d hate for her to walk away because you were too scared to talk to her about what really matters.”
I could do that. I needed Clover to be near.
The thought of her walking out of our lives made me queasy.
Even though we weren’t bonded, I seriously doubted I would survive the distance, doubly so if my pack blamed me for her leaving.
I would probably end up losing my mind, flying to Seattle, and camping on their front lawn so I could be near her if that happened.
Okay. Fuck. Maybe John wasn’t as off base as I’d thought.