Chapter 28
28
F or a man who’d spent the last eight years speaking only to her with words heavy in irritation, derision, or intolerance, he was unnervingly calm and…well, the look on his face was off. On anyone else, she would think he was sad. Marcus Hanover the Third didn’t do sad. Not since his wife had died, and certainly not when he found his runaway daughter.
“Are you going to start talking soon? Because you are crashing a funeral, if you haven't noticed, and the last thing I want for these people is to make their day worse by causing a scene. So say what you want and leave.”
“I want to know why you ran away. I have my ideas, but I need to hear it from you.”
“Why would I stay, Father? What was there for me?” She was no longer afraid to speak her mind. This was her home, and she was surrounded by people who cared about her and wanted the best for her. It was the Shepards who had filled the emptiness in her life.
“Meredith, I will not tolerate that tone—”
Meredith tossed her head back with a derisive laugh. “You won't tolerate that tone? You want to know why I left? That's one reason right there. You're a cold, unloving man, and I'd rather live with complete strangers than another day being your patsy. Not once did you ask me what I wanted. Not once did you show concern for me and my well-being.” She pointed to the door. “You need to leave. Now. You need to leave and never come back.”
Briefly, her father looked away, and when he looked back, tears glistened in his eyes. For the first time since her mother had died, she saw the man who'd taught her to ride a bike. She saw the softness in his expression, a look she remembered from her childhood.
“I'm sorry Meredith. Everything I did was because I––”
“Don't say it was because you love me.” She shook her head. “Love doesn't look like that.”
“But fear does.” Father wiped a tear from under his eye and stood. “You were all I had left. That alone frightened me. I wanted to protect you while protecting myself in case I lost you.”
“That doesn't explain why you used me for your business purposes.”
“Initially, I thought I was giving you a purpose, too, a job of sorts. Then having you work the crowd simply became my modus apparatus. It was easier to be that type of guy than a worrying father.” His gaze never wavered from hers.
Meredith was lost for words. In the beginning, this conversation was all she wanted from her father, to understand why. Now? It would take more. Something big. He'd broken her trust, and getting that back would take work and time.
“Father––”
“Just think about coming home with me. Talk with that—your—your husband.” He stepped up to her and, catching her off guard, pulled her into a hug. “I'm so relieved you are all right,” he said before letting her go. After a final squeeze to the shoulders, he kissed her forehead and left.
Shocked to her core, Meredith didn't know what to do next, at least as far as her father was concerned. Hopefully she and Jace would get a chance to talk about it tonight. If he was up for it.
After all the guests had left and Willow had gone back to the cabin with her mom, Meredith found Jace sitting in the dark in his office, a bottle of whisky beside him.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He nodded.
“Want me to start a fire?” There was a chill in the room, and she wrapped her arms around herself while moving toward the fireplace.
“Leave it,” he said and set his tumbler on his desk.
“Can I get you anything?” She wanted to take his pain away.
He shook his head. “What's the deal with your dad?”
“There is no deal. He left.” Maybe talking about him right now wasn't a good idea. There was a weird vibe in the room. She expected grief, but anger seemed to be present as well. She supposed that was how men dealt with their emotions.
“He'll be back.” Jace sat forward and grabbed her hand, then pulled her before him.
“Yes, I'm sure he will.” She looked down, trying to read his expression, but he was staring at her chest. “Why don't we go to bed,” she suggested.
He shook his head, then slid his other hand under her skirt, up her thigh, and then skimmed his fingers across the seam of her panties.
“Jace,” she whispered, her knees wobbly.
He tugged her closer, her legs bumping the chair as she came to stand between his legs. He tugged again, and she nearly fell into his lap. Sensing what he wanted, she leaned forward and climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her skirt rising to her hips. Clothes weren't removed, only shoved aside. Lips brushed across bodies, and his hand tangled in her hair, clutching tightly. He took her there with such fierceness and urgency she felt as if they were racing against something. Being caught? Time? She wasn't sure, but the frenzied need called out the loudest so she ignored everything else but that. When it was over, he led her to bed where they repeated it, only this time with less urgency and more sadness. No words, only touch with Jace running his hands over her body as if he was memorizing every curve.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.