Chapter 41
IAIN
TWO WEEKS LATER
Iflew to Rhode Island as planned.
Not that I wanted to leave Dawson, but he had responsibilities back home.
But I wasn’t entirely alone. Lennie was with me.
I’d called my dad weeks ago when the news story about the stalker hit the headlines.
As usual, the call was brief, with my dad seemingly more concerned about getting to his tennis game on time than making sure I was all right.
It was always the same. I hoped he’d give me something other than formal pleasantries, but I was always left disappointed.
No more.
I knew if I wanted to step into the next phase of my life with Dawson, I needed to face my past.
Over the years, I’d head home, but I stayed with Brodie and spent time with his family. They’d taken me in as their own, which I will forever be grateful for.
And this time, I was borrowing Brodie’s cottage.
Okay, it was a mansion more than a cottage, but done in a cape cod style that suited the oceanfront property.
Lennie rented a car and drove me to my dad’s place in Providence, about forty-five minutes away.
The closer I got to our old family home, the more unsettled I became.
The house looked eerily the same, a two-story colonial that was the typical suburban dream.
Dad had hardly changed anything over the years except painting the front door. That was new. Everything else, from the rose bushes in the front yard to the wind chimes hanging from the porch, was as it was when I was a kid.
Swallowing down my anxiety, I knocked on the door and waited.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Allen, greeted me.
“Iain, so nice to see you again. Your father is in his office.”
“Thanks.”
Fuck, even the smell of the place—pine-scented cleaner and lavender—haunted me.
I walked along the hallway to the first door on the right and knocked on the door.
“Come in!”
Opening the door, I walked in to find my father in his usual place, sitting at his desk with his laptop open. As an accountant, he worked both in the office and at home. He should’ve had a bed put in here since this was where he’d pretty much lived for the past twenty-years.
Stephen Holloway was a man of business, first and foremost.
Looking up, he took off his reading glasses and startled when he saw me.
Every damn time.
Like he was shocked that his only son might want to talk to him.
“Iain, you’re looking well.”
He motioned to the chair opposite him.
“I’m feeling better. Thanks, in large part, to my boyfriend, Dawson,” I replied as I sat down.
I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. “You look surprised to see me. I did mention I was coming here today.”
My dad nodded, then ran a hand through his short silver hair. “Sorry, it’s just that, when you walked through the door…you look, I mean, your smile. It’s so much like her.”
I glanced over at his desk and the picture of my mom, the only one in the house, that sat there. In the picture, she was posed on the deck of their sailboat, her long blond hair blowing in the wind, her red lips and matching jacket bright against the blue sky in the background.
I remembered that jacket. And her lipstick. The smell of her rose perfume. Twenty years suddenly felt like nothing.
“That’s the reason I’m here. To talk about mom.”
My dad shook his head and reached for the glass on the table.
A tumbler of whiskey, neat.
“I can’t, Iain; you know that. I just can’t talk about her—”
“That’s the problem, Dad. You never did. She’s been gone for years. We buried her two decades ago, but you never dealt with the grief. And I was the one who paid the price. You shut me out.”
“I…I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, taking a long sip of his drink. “And why are you saying all this to me now? What brought this on?”
“A stalker nearly killing me, that’s what brought this on. And I’m in a relationship. A man I’m in love with. But I want to give Dawson all of me, and I can’t do that unless we talk about this. About you and Mom. About the loss of our family.”
“I’m still here, and you’re here. We’re both okay. Isn’t that enough?” he snapped.
“No, it’s not enough, and it’s not okay.
You pushed me away when I needed you. I didn’t understand why because I was a kid.
All I knew was that my mom was gone, and I needed my dad.
But you weren’t there. Well, physically, you were somewhere here in this house but never looking at me or talking to me.
Do you know how alone I felt? She died, but you went right along with her. ”
Dad stood up and walked over to the window, facing the front yard. Taking another long gulp of his whiskey, he finally turned around.
“I made sure you were always taken care of, Iain. You wanted for nothing.”
I scoffed. He still wasn’t getting it.
“I’m appreciative of the fact you put a roof over my head and hired a nanny to raise me. But I was your son. Your child. A ten-year-old boy who needed love from the only parent he had left.”
Dad ran his free hand over his jaw. “I had to work long hours and—”
“Stop with the excuses. You had enough money, and you could have made the time. Burying your hurt under the guise of work was your choice, but it made you a shitty father. And thank God for Brodie and his family, or I don’t know what would have happened to me.”
“You’ve made a good life for yourself. You turned out fine. Lots of money and fame.”
“Yeah, I did turn out fine. With the help of my friends, who are my family now. Not you.”
“Is that all?” he asked as he took his final sip of whiskey and walked back over to his desk, slamming the glass on the tabletop. “You came all this way just to insult me?”
“No, I came to tell you how I was feeling. I was hoping, foolishly, that you might want to actually deal with Mom’s passing and move on. Maybe talk to a therapist. With me.”
He shook his head. “Shrinks. All they want to do is ply you with medication, like they did with your mother. Or make you confess your most painful feelings.”
“Well, I guess I have my answer.” I sighed. “All that’s left is to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“We don’t have a relationship. And you obviously don’t want to build one. So, there’s nothing more to say.”
My heart racing, my stomach roiling, I stood up and headed for the door.
“Iain.”
I turned around and stared at my father’s face, at the eyes that were just like mine. But his were colder, harder. Had they always looked like that? I shivered but ignored my fear.
I was nothing like him.
“What?” I bit out.
“She would’ve been proud of your success, of the man you are.”
I stared at him, shocked but also terribly saddened. I nodded.
“I hope so. But she would’ve been devastated by the man you turned out to be.”
Then I walked out of that house, and I didn’t look back.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I slipped back in the car, and Lennie asked if I was okay. I’d told him all about why I was here on the flight up.
“I’m not,” I replied as I wiped the tears off my face. “But once I get back home to Dawson, I will be.”
Lennie patted my hand reassuringly, then pulled out of the driveway and headed back to the cottage.
“You sure you want to stay tonight?”
“I guess.”
Lennie nodded.
“If it’s any consolation, I know where you’re coming from. Sometimes, it’s better to let go of toxic people. It’s the only way to move on.”
My phone buzzed.
Dawson: Jaxon just gave me his very extensive birthday wish list. I’ll need your help. Especially when it comes to choosing a cat. I hope everything’s all right. I can’t wait until you come home tomorrow. I love you.
“On second thought, let’s get our stuff from the cottage,” I informed Lennie. “I want to fly back home tonight.”
“You got it.”
A few hours later, we were on our way to the airport.
Change of plans. We’re on the six p.m. flight tonight, arrival close to nine. See you soon. And I love you too.
I’ll meet you at the airport. Text me the flight details.
Four hours later, Lennie and I touched down, and the sense of relief I felt was palpable—not just relief, but excitement.
When we got to the arrivals gate, there was Dawson, standing head and shoulders above the crowd, of course.
He ran one hand over his fauxhawk, and the other held up a sign.
But instead of my name, it read: Pick Up For: The Sexiest Man Alive.
I bit my lip to keep from chuckling out loud. People walked past him and stared at the sign, laughing and taking pictures.
“You’d think he was never a fucking bodyguard,” Lennie grumbled. “He’s drawing a crowd.”
My boyfriend hadn’t entirely left his security work behind. He’d decided to go into business for himself. Dawson and Quinn were starting their own private investigation agency. It meant he could choose his own hours and, in the summer months, head on tour with me.
But Dawson’s security experience was still valuable for us as a couple.
Ever since we’d gone public, the press had been following us around.
Dawson knew how to evade the press and when to confront them, albeit politely.
Especially when it came to Jaxon. We made it clear that his privacy was our foremost concern.
Jaxon took the media attention in stride, and with the guidance of his therapist, it was so far, so good.
Most of the media were eager but respectful. In fact, once we’d given our statements, they went gaga over our relationship. Personally, I think it was all because of my boyfriend. I was convinced the press was now in love with Dawson.
But not as much as me.
And they couldn’t have him because he was mine.
As Lennie and I drew closer, Dawson spotted me and began to weave through the crowd, meeting me halfway.
Dawson put the sign down and pulled me into his arms.
“It was only two days, but I missed you like crazy,” I said as I smiled up at him, so happy to be back where I belonged.
“Tell me about it. Are you okay? How did your talk go?”
I shook my head, my eyes starting to fill for a whole different reason.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dawson whispered.
“I finally said all I needed to say. I feel…lighter. Maybe not better, but lighter.”
Dawson hugged me tighter. “From now on, where you go, I go.”
“Is that an order?”
“Fuck yes.”
He kissed me, and despite our audience, I kissed him right back.
I was home.
And home was Dawson.