Chapter 13
Parker
Ihastily head towards my father’s study.
Security would have already notified him that we arrived, and I knew that if he wasn’t my first stop, then I'd never hear the end of it.
I would try my best to get us off on the right foot, even though I knew that my father would poke at me until I finally gave him a reaction.
I waited as he silently judged me before he stepped aside and made room for me to enter.
“Parker.”
“Dad,” I replied just as stiffly as my father rounded the corner of his desk to take a seat. I took a seat in the armchair before him.
There was a considerable pause as we both sat and stared at each other.
All my life, people have commented that I am the spitting image of him.
Sitting here before him, I noticed the changes in him, some small and subtle, others more pronounced.
My father and I shared the same height and build – broad shoulders, towering at 6’3 over the rest of our family members.
We shared the same rich mahogany complexion and copper-brown eyes.
His hair had begun to grey around his hairline, and I noticed that he hadn’t missed an opportunity to enjoy Mama’s peach cobbler.
He still looked younger than his 66 years.
If anything, these changes gave him an air of distinction that could only be inherited through old age.
“You look well,” I said, breaking the silence.
My father scoffed, folding his hands and leaning back in his chair. “You look like you’ve just walked out of a frat house. I’m sure your mother has something more suitable for you in your room.”
“Not everyone wants to wear a three-piece suit in 100-degree weather, Dad,” I remarked before my father lifted his hand to silence me.
“Let us discuss why you’re here and the gala. This woman you’ve arrived with, she must be in grave danger if you’ve gone out of your way to rejoin your family.”
I want to lay into him the way he’s so determined to dig into me, but I keep my head. He’s always itching for a fight, like he thinks he can bully me into coming home.
"Her name is Evelyn Howard. She's in danger from someone in her past, who burned down her house.
We're not sure who can be trusted, which includes the police.
He's still out there. So New York isn't safe for her right now.
I promised she would be safe here, given how heavily secured the estate is.
While she's here, she'll assume an alias, Willow Norris.
No one can know her real name or the circumstances surrounding her stay here," I replied, making sure I met his eyes so the seriousness of the situation was conveyed.
“My son, the hero. Ms. Howard is your responsibility while she’s here, so please make sure she is well acquainted with how we do things. Tomorrow I'll be expecting you to accompany me to the country club for a round of golf with Sheriff Strauss. Do not be late.”
With that said, he opened his laptop and started typing away, ending the conversation.
I got up from the armchair, trudging to the door without responding to his demand. I was beat, and I needed a shower, some food, and a bed, hopefully in that order.
Tomorrow I would have to play the part and play it well, unless I wanted another lecture from my dad.
He wanted me to make sure Evelyn didn’t do anything to embarrass him or tarnish the Woods’ good name.
It didn't escape me that I was a twenty-eight-year-old man who still had to bend to the will of his father. I wasn’t even back a full twenty-four hours, and I was already shutting up and nodding along.
I knew why I had to do it, but it didn’t stop the bitter taste in my mouth.
Looking around, I catalogued every piece of furniture and every painting or photo on the walls. This place was stuck in time. Nothing had really changed since I left, much like the relationship between myself and my dad.
Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I found my mother at the window, looking out onto the garden.
I should have known she would be here; predictable as she was.
Since I was a child, my mother always liked to take her coffee here.
Hearing me approach, she looked up and smiled.
Her hair was perfectly coiffed as if she were attending an event rather than just relaxing at home.
The yellow sundress she wore trailed behind her as she stood putting her coffee down.
I couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see my mother after all this time.
She tried to keep the peace between my father and me, but it didn't stop me from leaving.
My mother didn't push like my father. She just stayed neutral.
While I felt guilty for fracturing our relationship, I couldn't ignore the resentment that simmered at the surface.
“My baby boy, I’m so glad you’re home,” she gushed as she met me halfway, bringing me into her arms.
I definitely wasn’t a baby or a boy, not by a long shot, with the way I towered over my mother’s 5’3 frame.
But there was no correcting her. Rejoice Woods would proudly insist that I would always be her baby, no matter how grown or tall I was.
I couldn’t complain. It felt good to be embraced by her and see her smile.
“I missed you, Mama,” I felt my shoulders relax as I breathed in the calming, warm scent of my mother’s perfume: Chanel No.
5. The rich scent of bergamot and jasmine was classic and familiar.
My mother wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, preferred tending her own garden, and cooking her own food.
No matter how much money my father made, my mother was still the country girl from Macon, and she never let him forget it.
“I’ve missed you, too, baby. It’s been far too long since I’ve had you in my arms.” She stepped out of the hug and surveyed me with her amber eyes. “And it looks like you haven’t been eating well up there in New York either.”
I took my time soaking her in, too. My mother had kind almond eyes, and the lines around them were proof of the smile she wore without fail.
She only became more beautiful with age.
If you asked her how she managed to stay so youthful, she’d probably tell you, “A kind heart.” Rejoice Woods led life with kindness and believed that harboring ill will was damaging to the soul and the body.
Whether I believed that was true or not, didn’t matter.
She had ingrained in us to live our lives in the same manner.
So far, being kind hasn't failed me yet.
Her words brought a chuckle out of me. My mama thought if my shirt buttons weren’t popping off, then I must’ve been starving.
Each time we FaceTime, she asked me what was for dinner or lunch, then stuck up her nose at it.
I ate healthy and kept in shape. My mama didn’t want to hear nothing about no kale and quinoa.
“Well, lady, are you going to feed me then?” I replied even though my mother was already making her way over to the refrigerator and taking out a carton of eggs.
“You know I can’t have my baby hungry. Go on to upstairs and shower off the trip. Breakfast will be ready when you’re done,” she ordered while tying her apron.
My feet carried me out of the room. I couldn’t get to the shower fast enough.
“And make sure you bring your lady friend over for breakfast as well,” my mother called out before I crossed the threshold.
I shook my head.
I knew bringing her here for her safety was the best idea, but my family was about to interrogate her.
My sister and mother would think she was here for more.
Evelyn was lovely, and I could tell she had a kind soul, but I wasn’t going to disturb her peace if I could help it. I was just there to protect her.
The room was like a time capsule. It looked just like how I left it before heading to New York.
My football trophies and pictures were still displayed on the mantel along with my swimming medals and high school yearbooks.
The album collection I worked so hard on was still intact, neatly placed beside the record player my grandfather had given me for my thirteenth birthday.
The bookshelf in the corner didn’t have a speck of dust on it, even though I haven’t been in this room in a decade.
My mother always made sure I knew she had my room cleaned regularly, “just in case I was homesick.” My eyes didn’t linger too long on the family photo positioned on the bedside table.
I never did get homesick. I was living my dream, and my father had pressured me so much that even the slightest thought of going back home always left me uneasy.
My mother and sisters didn’t deserve the distance that I put between us, but I needed a clean break—a chance to find my own way.
Like my room, the bathroom was still stocked with all my old favorites—at least the ones that used to be my favorites when I was home last. I made quick work of removing my clothing and starting the shower.
Once the water hit my skin, I felt like I could breathe again.
This moment would be fleeting. I was home, and I had to play by the rules if I wanted to keep my promise to Evelyn.
When I felt like I washed the grime from that shady motel off my skin, I hopped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked over to my closet.
The walk-in closet was littered with designer clothing and shoes.
I had become accustomed to wearing t-shirts and basketball shorts on my off days from the firehouse.
I can't say I was eager to get back into skinny chino pants and polo shirts. Despite my discomfort, I dressed for the day in something my father wouldn’t be able to disapprove of.