Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
HAILEY
I’m in the cozy kitchen of my little house—the one dad bought me as a graduation present—and the air smells like coffee and cinnamon.
I made cinnamon rolls, and they smell amazing, but I don’t have the appetite for them right now.
I’ve invited both my dad and Beau over for breakfast, asking Dad to come earlier so that we can talk.
I mean it that I’ll choose Beau over him if I have to.
But I don’t want it to come to that. If I can accept Kaylee, why can’t he come to accept my relationship?
I understand that it’s not exactly the same thing, given how long I’ve known Beau, but it’s also not completely different.
If he wants to marry a woman his daughter’s age, why can’t I be with a man my father’s age?
I’m tempted to hammer home how hypocritical he’s being, but I don’t feel like that’s my path to getting what I want most, which is for us all to find a new way forward without anger or resentment.
The knock on the door echoes through my house, and I steel myself for what’s to come.
Hopefully he doesn’t punch anyone today.
I open the door, and there stands my dad, his expression completely unreadable. He steps inside, his large frame filling the space.
“You want some coffee?” I ask when the silence stretches between us for a beat too long. No hello, good morning, nice to see you.
He nods, and follows me into the kitchen, where I pour him a cup and hand it to him. He takes it, still not saying anything.
I sit down at the table and gesture for him to do the same. He does, the air thick with tension. Dad takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes on me. “You wanted to talk.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I nod, folding my hands in front of me so I don’t fidget. “Yeah. I do.” I take a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully. “I know you’re upset about Beau and me. I understand why. But I need you to hear me out.”
Dad leans back in his chair, the mug cradled in his large hands. “I’m listening.” He sounds less than thrilled about it.
“I love him, Dad,” I say, my voice steady and sure because loving Beau is my truth. “I’ve loved him for a long time. And he loves me, too. Do you know why I went on that hike a few weeks ago? The one where I got caught in the storm and Beau had to rescue me?”
He shakes his head, studying me intently.
“Because I saw Beau having dinner with a woman, and I assumed he was on a date. And Dad, it destroyed me. I was a mess. I was heartbroken. I went on that hike to try to distract myself from how much I was hurting over what I thought were my unrequited feelings.”
His expression softens. “But it wasn’t a date.”
I shake my head. “No. He was having dinner with a former co-worker.”
Dad sighs heavily, then sets his coffee down on the table and scrubs a hand over his face. “You love him.” It’s as though he’s testing out the words, weighing them one by one.
“Yes.”
He flinches, but just barely. He tries to cover up his reaction by picking up his mug and taking a sip of coffee, but I saw it.
“You’ve known him your whole life.”
“I’ve known a version of him, yes. And I fell in love with the man he is now. These feelings weren’t there—for either of us—when I was growing up.”
He sighs, not saying anything. I can tell how hard this is for him.
“And he loves me back. Deeply. Truly.”
“Does he treat you with respect?”
I scoff. “Of course he does. Dad. He’s still Beau. I don’t think he even knows how to be rude.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up at that.
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” I say after a moment. “I just want you to know the truth.”
He swallows, and a flash of pain crosses his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid. Not of you being angry, because I knew we could get past that. I was afraid that you wouldn’t trust me to know what’s right in my own life. I was afraid of damaging your relationship with your best friend.”
Dad looks away, his jaw tight. “You’re my little girl, Hailey.”
“I’ll always be your little girl, Dad. But I’m also a grown woman who knows what she wants, and what I want is to be with Beau.”
A heavy silence hangs between us, thick with emotion.
I can feel Dad’s hurt radiating off of him like heat from a bonfire.
He looks down at his coffee, his broad shoulders tight, his jaw tense.
I’ve never seen him like this. So…so wounded.
It’s a stab in my heart, but I hold firm. I won’t apologize for dating Beau.
The front door opens quietly, and a moment later Beau steps into the kitchen. His presence fills the room, strong and steady. I feel instantly calmer knowing that he’s here. He’s my anchor. My rock. He looks at Dad and then at me, his gorgeous green eyes soft with concern.
“I’m here for Hailey,” he says to my dad, his voice quiet, calm. “We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to, Logan. I just want to be here for her.”
Dad’s gaze snaps to Beau, his eyes narrowing.
My stomach drops as he studies the man who’s been his closest friend for over twenty years.
Beau stands there, unwavering, letting Dad look his fill.
Beau comes to stand behind my chair, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I glance up at him, and he shoots me a quick, reassuring smile.
I see it, the moment Dad’s expression softens. The tension in his shoulders eases a fraction, and hope flares to life in my chest.
Can he see how much Beau loves me?
I hold my breath. Waiting. Hoping.
Dad looks back down at his coffee, his brow furrowed in thought. It’s his mulling it over expression, one I’ve seen countless times throughout my life. The silence stretches, but it’s different now. Softer, somehow.
I lean into Beau’s touch, drawing strength from him. Together, we wait for Dad to speak. To acknowledge what’s right in front of him. The coffee maker burbles on the counter, and several seconds pass. I don’t rush Dad, and neither does Beau. I let him take his time. Let him process.
“So…this is really happening, huh?” he finally says.
“It’s really happening,” I say.
More silence. Finally, he sighs, the gust of air loud in the quiet kitchen.
“You hurt her, I kill you,” Dad says, eyes on Beau.
“I won’t,” Beau says quiet but fierce. “Ever.”
Another silence. More mulling over. And then finally, he cracks.
“Okay.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Okay.”
The oven beeps, telling me that the cinnamon rolls are ready, so I jump up to take them out of the oven. Dad and Beau don’t speak as I drizzle the icing over them, letting it melt and drip.
The sight of the sticky, white ropes coating the cinnamon rolls makes me want let Beau frost me just like this later. I press my lips together, fighting back a smile. Now is not the time for horny thoughts.
I set the plate down on the table, and then pour Beau a cup of coffee, fixing it with a splash of milk, just the way he likes.
Our hands brush as I hand it to him, making heat race up my arm.
I smile at him, and he smiles back, little lines fanning out around his eyes.
He looks delicious this morning, with his light blue Henley clinging to his muscles, his beard neatly groomed.
Oh, who am I kidding? It’s always time for horny thoughts when he’s around.
The sun streams through the kitchen windows, casting everything in a warm, golden glow that seems to match what I’m feeling right now. It feels cozy. A real—if awkward—family breakfast.
Dad takes a sip of coffee, his eyes flicking between Beau and me. But he doesn’t say anything. He reaches for a cinnamon roll and takes a big bite.
“These are good, Hails,” he says, his mouth full.
I grin. “Thanks, Dad.” Bit by bit, things are starting to feel a little less fraught and a lot more normal.
We eat the cinnamon rolls, making cautious conversation throughout.
We talk about the weather, about how good the cinnamon rolls are.
Beau tells a funny story about rescuing a lost goat who didn’t want to be rescued and screamed the whole way back to his farm.
I talk about wanting to go for a hike now that my ankle’s fully healed.
Dad mentions a good movie he and Kaylee watched.
It’s careful. Measured. But it’s a start.
Halfway through, Beau reaches under the table and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, and my heart feels so incredibly full. This is what I’ve always wanted. A quiet, peaceful life with the man I love. It’ll probably be a lot less peaceful once children come into the picture, but that’s okay.
I can’t wait, honestly.
I can still see a shadow of hurt, a flicker of concern in Dad’s eyes, but there’s also grudging acceptance there. Gradually, stubbornly, he’s coming to terms with the fact that Beau and I are together, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.
Once we’re finished eating, Dad doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. He’s about to open it when he pauses. Sighs, and then turns back around.
“Kaylee wants you to come over for dinner on Sunday,” he says, eyes on me. Then his gaze flicks to Beau. “You…can bring him, if you want. Promise I won’t throw any punches.”
I recognize an olive branch when I see one, and I give Dad an extra-squeezy hug.
“Okay,” I say. He nods and then leaves, the door closing quietly behind him.
“Well,” says Beau, hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall. How does he make even something as innocuous as leaning against a wall sexy? I swear, it’s his superpower. “That could’ve gone a lot worse.”
I grin at him, relief and hope mingling together inside me, making me feel bouncy. “A hell of a lot worse.”