CHAPTER EIGHT
RHYS
“So, you fucked it up with Willow, hmm?”
“Hannah told you?”
“Yeah, I got an earful about what an insensitive jerk you are. Thanks for that, by the way.” King lightly punches me on the shoulder in retribution.
We’re in his home office since an urgent problem came up with his job, and I figured I could use a break from my lonely cabin.
Especially after the fall out with Willow.
Lifting my chin in apology, the sketch of his and Hannah’s wedding bands takes shape on the notepad resting on my knee.
“Let me ask you something I’ve been curious about for a while,” King says, resting his arms on the table covered in folders and loose sheets of paper. “How do you feel about your dad?”
My body jerks in surprise at the random comment. “My dad?”
“Yeah, if you don’t believe in love, does that extend to him, too? And if you’re not saying ‘I love you, Dad,’ how do you express yourself otherwise.?”
“That’s different. I trust my dad. Respect him. That’s enough.”
“Seriously?” King scoffs.
A rogue line appears on the band for Hannah, and I roughly erase it.
Annoyed by this line of questioning, I admit, “Fine, I love my dad. Are you happy now? But it’s not the same.
You’re trying to get into the semantics of romantic love versus familial love, and it doesn’t matter.
I may love my dad, but I refuse to love like him.
Refuse to believe people have heart sparks. ”
“So this is about your mom.”
Tossing my pencil aside, my hand flexes in reaction to his knowing tone.
I wish I was in my forge. I wish I had a hammer in my hand to release the sudden rise of chaotic energy in my veins.
“What if it is? She’s caused enough drama for my family to know I want no part of her beliefs,” I spit out.
“She called my dad her heart spark, claimed to love him, then dumped him for her next true love. While poor Dad still pines for her years later. It’s sad and painful, and I’m not falling prey to the same thing. ”
“First off…” King leans forward, meeting my eyes with his stern gaze.
Sometimes I forget that he’s a decade older than me, more of an older brother to mentor me rather than a peer going through the same shit I am.
“Willow is not your mom. She’s sweet and generous and would never abandon the people she loves.
Secondly, the fact that you’re allowing your mom and dad to dictate your life at thirty years old is ridiculous.
Man up, brother. Deal with your emotional baggage then claim your woman. ”
My eyes narrow at the command. It’s easy for King to tell me what to do.
He’s not the one who has to deal with his father commenting about the lost love of his life constantly.
He’s not the one who gets a call from Austin every anniversary of milestones they shared—first kiss, birthday, wedding day—where his dad is drunk and melancholic.
“I’ve dealt with it.” He looks at me skeptically. “Fine, I’m a mess. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, I want to hear you’re going after Willow come hell or high water.”
“She believes in love and the heart sparks shit. That’s what she wants. That’s what she expects from me.”
“So give it to her.” King rakes a hand down his grizzled face. “Jesus Christ, it’s not like it’s a hardship. Loving a woman can be frustrating at times, but it’s always worth it. And Willow’s one of the best. You’re gonna be a coward and lose out on her because of your fucking parents?”
When he puts it like that…
Am I being a coward?
My whole life I’ve sneered at the idea of love—its meaning worthless after seeing my parents’ version of it.
But here’s King, one of my closest friends, committed and in love to the woman of his dreams. And the guys over at Olson-Keller Lumber…
Well, I never thought I’d see the day they settled down, yet all three men are happily married and adore their wives.
Proof of love—of heart sparks—has literally been staring me in the face for years. I’ve just been too stubborn to accept it. And now it might be too late for me to claim it with Willow.
“Shit… I fucked up.”
King breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes back into his desk chair. “Yeah, you did. Now what are you gonna do about it?”