Bates
Ibarge into Hawk’s office without bothering to knock.
“You’re doing this all wrong, Hawk.”
“Don’t want to hear it. Least of all from you.”
“Well, you’re going to.” I throw Lana’s notebook in front of him and point at it. “Take a look. That’s what you did to your daughter.”
Hawk glances at the notebook and sighs. “I’m afraid to fucking look. She’s going to ruin me over you, you know.”
“You’re doing a fine job of ruining shit all by yourself,” I tell him straight. “Lana is trying to minimize the damage so it doesn’t hurt you too badly. Open the fucking notebook.”
Hawk does what I’ve demanded. Probably because my tone suggested he do it before I hold him down and make him.
He winces when he sees all the pages of calculations. “What is this?”
“Life math.”
“What the fuck is life math?”
I flip through until I find the goal sheet and fold-out graphs I want him to see.
“This is everything she wants and what she’s calculated it’ll take to get it.” I point to the first item on her list.
A loving family.
Beneath that are the options she’s considered in order to achieve that — the first of which reads: renovate the one I’ve got by bringing the Hawkins clan together and proving I belong there.
Option two reads: start from scratch and build a new one.
And option three reads: try harder to be a Baker. That one’s crossed out several times, showing what her preferences are, but the probability of success she’s allocated to both options is pitifully subpar for a beautiful young woman with a hell of a lot to love about her.
“Twelve percent,” I growl, jabbing my finger at option one. “She came here thinking she had a twelve percent chance of being accepted by you. And you fucking proved her right. You should be ashamed of yourself that she could ever think such a thing.”
I point at the crossed-out scribble where the words about the Baker family can still be seen beneath. “All attempts failed. Increased effort produces only a negative return on investment. Not a viable option.”
My finger slides to the option about making her own family.
“Ninety-six percent likelihood of needing to be a solo parent, or zero point two percent of making babies with a loving husband — and yet she’s written that is her optimal choice — should fate exist and somehow swing in my favor,” I read aloud before pointing to some variables she believes her success depends on.
“Do you see this?” I ask him. “This list of possible tools at her disposal and their calculated level of helpfulness to aid her strategy in finding a loving husband?” I stab my finger at the page.
“Inheriting Dad’s potential to love. Ability to mimic Dad’s warmth, humor, and his power to attract good people.
Ability to downplay my own inherent repellent nature,” I say through my teeth before sliding my finger across to the column with its calculated weighting of importance.
“That one comes with a pretty hefty negative loading she has to overcome, Hawk… Ability to maintain a healthy figure and adequate appearance to attract someone…”
I pull my finger back and take a breath before I actually throttle the man in front of me.
“That girl is beautiful as fuck. Inside and out. She’s smart and sweet, and she’s as wicked-funny as you on your best day.
” I point to the open notebook on his desk.
“Reading between the lines, Lana thinks that every good thing she has came from you, Hawk. But you know what else this says? That you’re also the fucking reason she thought she was an unlovable freak — and that’s fucking disgusting.
She doesn’t understand how utterly wonderful she is, and you’re the reason.
All her calculations are off because she was missing that crucial piece of data — I’m not even going to tell you how old she believed she’d be before she mastered all the variables in the equation of how to make a man love her.
There’s a reason ‘single mom’ got the highest fucking rating for success, Hawk.
That call is coming from inside your fucking house, so don’t you dare let her leave without some form of an apology.
Read both of her fucking reports, make the right fucking choice, and then tell her what it is before we fucking leave. You have ten minutes.”
I slam his door behind me and shake off the rage on my way back to the truck so I can greet Lana with nothing but smiles.
“Gorgeous, you were up early working that beautiful brain of yours. Come and I’ll make you another coffee while we wait for Martha to finish up her morning chores.
” I slide my fingers between hers and swing our clasped hands between us as I guide her toward the communal hub.
“I’ve never seen your sister work so slowly.
I think she’s dragging her feet in the hopes it’ll give your dad enough time to come to his senses. ”
Lana sighs. “He won’t. He thinks I came here to ruin him, and all the evidence makes it look like I have. My word isn’t good enough. Never has been — but now my numbers aren’t good enough, either. I don’t have anything else, Bates. I’m just… Goose.”
“You’ve got plenty, Lana. You’re not just anything.”
I pull out a chair for her, and she gives me an odd look. Apparently she’s still unsure about why someone would use basic manners around her. I crouch at her feet and bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her knuckles.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She stares into my eyes and purses her lips before speaking.
“Your tone suggests a hundred percent success. I haven’t done the math, because I’m not sure I can handle the permanence of the failure that’ll be reflected in the numbers just now, but I know the results will all point to the same conclusion — that I definitely screwed up everything between me and Dad.
Again. I suspect irreparably this time.”
“Baby, I need you to trust that I know when something is broken beyond repair, because I’m telling you there’s still hope here.
There’s no way your dad is going to give up his connection with someone as wonderful as you.
It’s a no-brainer, Lana. He’ll come around.
If not in the next ten minutes, then maybe in the next ten months.
He’s angry, but he’s not an idiot. He’s your dad, and he wants what’s best for you. ”
“I don’t think his idea of what’s best aligns with mine.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe, and she tries to give me a smile before she sighs. “Then again, you are his best friend, so I guess we’d both agree that you’re hot shit.”
“The hottest.” I give her a smile and then kiss her forehead before I rise to go get the coffee.
Lana stares at the wall with an expression so blank I suspect she’s afraid to let herself feel anything. Her posture is upright and rigid, as if she’s trying to hold herself together by drawing everything tight inside.
“Just give him a chance to read both of your reports. There’s a clear-cut winner, Lana. He’ll need a moment to figure out how he’s going to put out the fire he’s set on that bridge between you, but he won’t let it burn down. He loves you.”
I’m not sure she’s even noticed her tears. She doesn’t wipe at them. I think she’s retreated fully inward.
She doesn’t seem to notice when Hawk pulls open the door and steps inside, either.
He’s quiet about it — just stands there, not saying anything as he takes in his daughter being sad as fuck.
When he looks my way, his expression is unreadable, but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say he wants to both murder me and beg for my help. I glance between the two of them, then signal to Hawk that I have an idea and to stay where he is.
He shows me which finger I should get fucked with, but he stays put.
I step around Lana and press a mug of coffee into her hands. She blinks me into focus, thanking me in a whisper.
“You’re welcome. You know what would make you feel better?
” I say with a gentle smile. “Something structured and familiar, with an uplifting feel — like running through the positive outcomes on that opportunity report your dad will have in his hands right now. The results are incredible, and he’s going to be even more proud of you when he sees that you’re capable of pulling it off. ”
Eyebrows plunging, Lana opens her mouth to object, but I hush her with a finger against her lips.
“He is proud of you,” I argue before she can say anything to the contrary.
“He’s always been proud of you. He just has a weird way of showing it, and we both know that weird doesn’t mean bad.
It just means different. Different is good.
Different is what gets results like the ones in your report.
List them for me in the order you chose to write them — the order you figured he’d appreciate them most, starting with the best.”
Lana takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, deflating her tense shoulders until they lower away from her ears.
“Cost benefits — item one: doubling last season’s gold total by productivity alterations made to the operation.”
“Double the total; double the profits. That’s fucking impressive, Lana.”
“Profit will technically more than triple from last season,” she corrects me, “since your math doesn’t account for all the variables, and that the highest gold total would also win us the end of season inter-claim wager as well,” she reminds me.
“That’s right. That’s some big money you’re talking about. Is that why you put it first on the list? It’s what Hawk would appreciate most?”
Lana shrugs. “It’s stressful being the boss. Money is security. If he doesn’t have to worry about working overtime to provide for people’s livelihoods, maybe he’ll have more time to do things he likes.”
“Like what?”