Chapter 31 Tate
TATE
All night, I think about the argument with Jordan. I replay everything she said about Ross not being there growing up. Not being present. Ross making her think he didn’t care.
Ross choosing me over her.
At six-twenty the next morning, after almost no sleep, I stride into his office, my blood racing, my heart in my throat. I saw a note yesterday about him being in town this weekend. I used to admire his work ethic, but after what Jordan said last night, it looks different.
“Ross.”
He looks up, curious and surprised.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course.” He leans back in his chair and gestures to the chairs across from his desk. “What’s on your mind?”
“Jordan.”
His eyebrows go up.
“We had an argument last night. About you.”
He frowns. “Should I be concerned?”
“I think I put you on a pedestal,” I tell him, running a hand through my hair, feeling torn and confused and frustrated.
“I didn’t have much of a father growing up, you know that, and there you were, willing to help me and talk to me and coach me.
Someone who wanted the best for me. Someone who was there for me.
” I blow out a heavy breath, shaking my head.
“And the whole time, you weren’t around for her.
You taught me I mattered and I could do anything, but you didn’t do the same for her. ”
A beat of silence fills his office. Ross Sheridan looks older. Tired and defeated. And yet the blood is racing in my ears.
“How could you miss Natalie’s funeral, Ross?”
His expression falls.
“How could you do that to Jordan? She was what, twenty?”
He nods.
“You don’t have to tell me why, but I think you should tell Jordan.
If you expect her to join the organization and carry on your legacy, for her to put her entire life on hold for the Storm, you need to give a little, too.
” I’m not yelling, but I’m not quiet, either.
“And I think you need to consider that a simple apology won’t cut it after so many years. ”
He’s quiet, looking at his desk. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t tell you how to fix things with Jordan, but I’ll tell you this: I show Bea that I love her with actions.
I show her with what’s really important—my time.
I show up for her. I tell her the truth, even when it’s hard.
We have a great relationship, Ross, and I hope we do for the rest of my life. ”
My chest aches. I’m breathing hard.
“And I swear to god, if anything happened to hurt that relationship, if I did anything to hurt my relationship with my daughter, I would fight like hell to fix it.” I hold his eyes, emotion racing through me.
“I wouldn’t sit around moping about the past while my daughter moves on without me. That’s for fucking sure.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. He’s doing the thing Jordan does, where he holds his expression neutral, but something flickers in his eyes. Fear, I think. Worry. Uncertainty. Vulnerability.
“I was driving you to rehab,” he says, and I’m not surprised, because I had my suspicions. “When I missed her funeral. I was driving you to rehab.”
“You could have driven me to rehab the next day. That’s not an excuse.”
“I’m aware,” he says mildly. He glances up at me. “What was she thanking me for yesterday?”
“I bought her a new wardrobe and told her the team paid for it, because you’ve made her so independent that she’d never accept my help. I moved her into my guesthouse because she was living in a shitty apartment, and now that she’s part of the Storm, she’s part of our family.”
My heart pounds, a protective, urgent feeling in my chest.
“It’s about time someone started looking after Jordan. She’s been alone long enough.” I give him a hard look. “Go home, Ross. I’m starting to think you’re a workaholic.”
And with that, I leave his office.