Chapter Thirty-Five
Evan
New York
The drive into New York was long. Not unfamiliar—I’d made the trip a thousand times—but was this where I still wanted to be? And was the conversation I was about to have necessary?
I kept one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting against my thigh, my mind circling.
Before returning to Firebrook Valley to break the news of Bella and Drew’s elopement to my father, I’d have said my energy was better spent helping other people.
I would have avoided the conversation I was about to have and told myself it was for the best.
I wasn’t that man anymore.
A security gate opened before I came to a full stop, as if the house itself had been expecting me.
My New York childhood home stood exactly as it always had—hidden behind stone walls, intimidating in size, with understated old-world style.
To a novice eye the facade might look humble, but that was the ruse.
There was nothing humble about owning a sprawling home in the center of one of the oldest and richest areas in the city. The address alone was its own currency.
And after the incident with Nora and Untouchable, it was where my father had retreated. At first we took that as a good sign. If he wasn’t in Firebrook Valley, he’d be less tempted to cause trouble. But he’d pulled back from the office, and Bella said she was worried about him.
In the past she would have stepped in. She credited me for handling him better than she would have. Maybe she was passing the baton. I was in a good headspace to carry it.
I cut the engine and sat there for a moment. I had questions, but none that came from anger. Could he handle them? I was about to find out.
I let myself in, surprised at the lack of staff. That wasn’t a good sign. It meant my father was sulking and seeking solitude.
I found him in his office and paused in the doorway, taking in the clean lines, the controlled order, the walls lined with deals and decisions and victories that had never quite translated into peace. He didn’t look up right away.
“Didn’t expect you today,” he said, finishing whatever he was reading before setting it aside. “Brady is upstairs gathering some of his things. Now that he’s done with college he says he needs a place of his own.”
I stepped inside. “Sounds about right.”
That earned me a glance. He looked me over slowly, then leaned back slightly, hands resting on the edge of his desk. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
I nodded once. “Okay.”
A beat passed. Then he exhaled, slow and measured. “The raises,” he said. “I didn’t agree with them.”
I almost smiled. Of course that’s where we’d start.
“But,” he continued before I could respond, “I can’t argue with the results. Productivity’s up. Retention’s better than it’s been in years. I’m hearing only good things from the board.” He paused, studying me more directly now. “You created a power team and lit a fire under them.”
I shifted my weight slightly. Not dismissing his praise but also not leaning into it. “All I did was recognize their loyalty to the company,” I said.
My father gave a small nod. “It was a good move.” Another pause. “A bit of an expensive one,” he added, “but both effective and profitable.”
I let that settle. Old me would have pushed, argued about how it had been the right thing to do and how it shouldn’t have taken me to make it happen. But that seemed like a waste of energy now. So I just nodded. “Thanks.”
He gestured toward the chair across from him. “Sit.”
I did. For a moment neither of us spoke. Then he leaned forward, forearms resting on the desk. “I’m not getting any younger,” he said. “And the company . . . it’s going to need a clearer direction soon.”
I didn’t miss the implication. “You’re thinking about stepping back.”
“Yes,” he said. “Not today. But I need to know where you fit into that plan.”
There it was. A year ago that question would have felt like a weight. A trap. A future closing in. Not anymore.
“I’ll stay involved,” I said with no hesitation, “but not full-time. My priorities are closer to home now.” The words landed quietly. After years of roaming endlessly, with Nora was where I wanted to be, and that changed how I saw Firebrook Valley.
My father watched me for a long second, something unreadable passing through his expression. Then he nodded. “Fair enough.”
No argument. No push. Just . . . acceptance. It wasn’t what I would have expected. And somehow that made it heavier.
I leaned back slightly, hands resting loosely on my knees. “There’s something else,” I said.
His expression shifted, his gaze sharpening.
Although I considered myself a good reader of people, my father was a murky mystery to me—one I wanted to unravel. “I heard that you’ve been funding scholarships for the youth in Firebrook Valley for years.”
He didn’t react right away. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it. Just waited.
Finally he asked, “Who told you that? Bella?”
How was that his main concern? I shook my head. “Nora.”
That seemed to land differently. Gabe’s mouth tightened. “It’s a tax write-off,” he said after a moment.
“Oh, I see. So, not because you want to do anything good for the people there.”
Silence stretched between us. Then he shrugged, almost dismissively. “You brought the need to my attention. I set it up with our accountant. It’s not a big deal.”
I frowned slightly. “I remember that conversation. I didn’t think you were even listening to me.”
He leaned forward slightly. “You’re my son. Of course I heard you.” The words were simple. Unadorned. And they landed harder than anything else in the conversation.
I looked down briefly, then back up. “Why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”
Gabe’s expression flickered. “I do a lot of things I don’t feel the need to tell you about and I’m sure you feel the same when it comes to me.”
I did, and that truth was uncomfortable. I didn’t like seeing my father in me, but I put that feeling aside, not wanting it to taint what he was revealing. “It might improve some of the town’s opinion of you if they had that information.”
“They don’t want charity from me and I respect that. I don’t give them anything they haven’t earned. All I do is make sure those who apply for government assistance with tuition, and are putting in the work to deserve it, get more than they might have if it was left to chance.”
“You do care about them.”
My father frowned. “They’ve never been anything but kind to us.”
Pondering it with a sound in my throat, I said, “How have I never seen this side of you?”
His lips pressed together in a tight line for a moment. Then he said, “I know I haven’t been a perfect father. But I tried to be better than my parents were. More tolerant of your decisions. Less demanding of perfection.”
“Dad, I thought you considered me a complete failure.”
A small, humorless breath left him. “I said tried.”
I didn’t interrupt. Didn’t soften it. Just listened.
My father’s gaze lifted again, landing squarely on me.
“You’re a good person, Evan. So is Brady.
So is Bella.” His jaw tightened slightly.
“Maybe I’m not better than my parents. Maybe I’m too proud or too bitter to be who you all wanted me to be, but somehow you became amazing people. I’m proud of you. All of you.”
The words sat in the room. There was something in my father’s voice I hadn’t heard before. Humility? Self-awareness? Was I reading too much into one conversation?
By choice, I hadn’t spent much time with my grandparents.
They were rigid, pompous, judgmental, out of touch—old-world money.
They could suck the joy out of a room faster than a vampire could relieve a person of all their blood.
My mother had never been good enough for them, but looking back, I could see that my father hadn’t been either.
How had I not seen that?
Was that why he didn’t make space for my mother in his life?
In their social circle? At the Beacon? Because he, himself, didn’t feel like he was good enough to belong?
If so, it explained so much. I exhaled slowly, the realization bitter and heavy.
It didn’t excuse the way he’d treated my mother—nothing could—but he hadn’t done it with malice.
He was more like an emotionally starving man unequipped to nurture those around him.
How this tied to his hatred of Cody I still had no idea, but my gut told me it was related.
And somewhere in all of that—whether he meant to or not—he’d done something right. He’d planted his children in a community that gave them what he didn’t know how to. Firebrook Valley broke a cycle he was still struggling with.
“Bella’s worried about you,” I said. “You should invite her and Drew here for dinner.”
My father blinked a few times rapidly, but he didn’t refuse, so I took that as he would consider it and brought up another topic that had been bothering me. “How much do you know about what went down between Brady and some frat members?”
His jaw flexed. “Enough.”
“Then you know Nora helped him.”
“Yes.” An unexpected twinkle of amusement lit his eyes. “I thought for sure he was sweet on her, but I was wrong. And so, it seems, were you.”
I cleared my throat. “I could have handled the situation better.”
“Seems to have worked out.”
“It has. She only sees him as a friend.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“Would you have believed me?”
“No,” I answered with a short laugh.
And we shared a smile. Sometimes the sharpest humor was found in shedding light on things that were painfully true.
My father stood. “The boys involved were expelled. Their families were banned from the Beacon.”
I frowned slightly. “So, it’s done.”
“Maybe,” he said flatly. “I don’t like how clean it was. That outcome doesn’t happen without pressure from someone high up. And not the kind even our family can apply. I don’t like not knowing who the behind-the-scenes players are.”
My mind shifted, connecting threads. Cody. The threat Nora had told me about. Regulatory pressure. Forged papers. Leverage. But Cody didn’t have that kind of reach. Not there. Not at the Beacon.
My father’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Be careful, Evan. On the surface everything seems to have settled, but this may be the calm before a storm.”
I rose to my feet as well. “Although it might not feel like it at times, you’re not alone. Bella and I can handle whatever trouble someone brings to our family.”
“Hey,” Brady said from the doorway. “You’re underestimating a key player—me.”
My father and I exchanged a look. We’d never brought him into the difficult family conversations, but maybe it was time to.
I waved for Brady to join us. “I was about to tell Dad that we need to start having family dinners. All of us. Bella, Drew, you, Nora, me. Either here in New York or in Firebrook Valley. Maybe even invite Mom. We’re all adults now and we don’t want our family to be fractured when the next generation joins us. ”
“Next generation?” my father’s voice boomed.
I didn’t blink. “It’s the natural progression of where this is all going. Your grandchildren will be half Holliston and half Burke. Before they arrive, you should work on making peace with that.”
Brady whistled in awe.
“I won’t be the issue,” my father muttered.
I held his gaze. “This is about us and moving forward, not with one-upping Cody Burke,” I said firmly.
Something flashed in my father’s eyes and he didn’t answer. Didn’t agree. Didn’t deny it. And for now, I decided to let that go.
In the past I’d have taken his lack of response as either indifference or choosing not to hear what I was saying. But with age came the insight that my father was neither all bad nor all good. He was somewhere between.
Like me.
Like almost everyone I knew.
Would family dinners happen? I was confident they would.
Would they go well?
Maybe not at first.
Brady caught my attention, standing there, waiting to be included, so I added, “Brady, how about you organize the first family dinner? Pick a date and location and I’ll make sure we’re all there.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why does that sound like you’re letting me plan something you’ll still be in charge of?”
I smiled, neither denying nor agreeing with him.
Then paused as I realized . . . shit, I do have some of my father in me.
The knowing expression on my father’s face said that wouldn’t have been news to him.