Twenty-One.
Shea
My father refused to speak another word after Rhett left, until Michelle suggested a family dinner this evening was the best solution.
How? Not a clue. My father doesn’t talk about his ‘feelings,’ he doesn’t try to resolve an issue unless it’s business related.
No, Daniel Winton prefers to yell, stomp his feet, then storm off and act like nothing ever happened if he for some reason, can’t get his way.
And that’s not for lack of him trying, of course.
Hence the only reason I agreed to dinner after the way he spoke to Rhett. What the heck was he thinking, coming here and treating him like that? On a first impression, too. Even for my father, that was out of character.
First impressions are the groundwork for any relationship—personal and professional, he’s been preaching that to me for years.
Which means he already made up his mind about Rhett before he ever set foot on that porch. He doesn’t do first impressions blind. My father does research.
The thought sits like a stone in my gut the whole silent drive to dinner.
Red’s Steakhouse is the nicest place Whitetail’s got, which isn’t saying a tremendous amount. Exposed beams, tablecloths, dinner lighting, and a good bourbon list to appease even my father.
My father, however, takes one look at the sign, the gravel lot, the men in flannel gathered outside for a smoke, and I watch his lip curl before we’ve even parked. “No dress code, I assume,” he says, holding the door for Michelle.
I fight not to roll my eyes. “It’s a small town, Dad.”
“So I gather.”
Inside, we’re seated at a corner booth, and for a few minutes, it’s almost civilized.
Michelle orders wine and tells us about the honeymoon—Positano, then a week in Tuscany, a vineyard, a cooking class.
She’s being genuine, showing me pictures, trying hard to smooth the jagged edges this morning left, and I feel a pang of gratitude toward her.
“And how was Tyler?” she asks brightly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Daniel and I are just dying to hear how you two got along.”
I bite my tongue. Considering they only ‘officially’ checked-in twice with a phone call, and mainly over text every few days, I bet they are curious.
“Fine,” Tyler mutters from beside her.
I glance at him. He’s got his hood down at least, because Michelle asked him to, but the earbuds are still looped around his neck ready at a moment’s notice, and he hasn’t looked up from the table since we sat down.
My chest aches at the sight of him. My hoodie loving, ninja mentor. Folded back into himself once again.
“He was better than fine,” I say, and I mean it fiercely. “He’s been incredible. He’s basically been co-directing the whole pilot. He’s got a real eye behind the camera. My girlfriend, Callie, who’s done some directing herself, even took a look at some of the footage and was blown away.”
Tyler lifts his gaze briefly, but without a smile, it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.
“That’s my boy.” Michelle beams at her son.
“Speaking of the pilot.” My father sets down his wine. “We were able to walk through the house this morning. For someone who has a vested interest in the care of said house, I was surprised to find the door was unlocked.”
Here we go. “We were working late last night. It must have slipped my mind. Whitetail is a very safe community, actually.” I keep my voice level. “So, um, what did you think during your walk through?”
He considers me for a long moment, and I hate how much I still want him to say it’s good. I’m twenty-eight years old and still leaning across a table hungry for one scrap of my father’s approval.
“It’s competent work,” he says finally.
Competent? As if it’s barely meeting his unimaginable standards.
Heat pricks behind my gaze.
“The floors are lovely, Shea,” Michelle offers. “Stunning work.”
My father huffs. “Though I do question the timeline in how you were able to nearly finish a full gut in six weeks.”
“It was a restoration. Not a gut,” I correct him. “That’s the whole point of the show, if you remember. We take—”
“With a two-man crew and a teenager,” he cuts me off.
“No. With a very good contractor,” I say, and the temperature at the table drops ten degrees.
My father’s eyes settle on me, cold and knowing. “Yes. Let’s talk about your little…contractor.”
“His name is Rhett,” I say.
“I’m aware of his name. I’m aware of a great deal about him.
” My father turns his wine glass by the stem.
“Rhett Montgomery. Montgomery Construction & Lumber. One of six children, his family has lived in the area for three generations. He has a decent enough reputation, which is precisely why I find it quite interesting that a man such as him would take up with the owner’s daughter in the middle of the largest contract his little company has ever been awarded. ”
My jaw is tight. “It’s not like that, Dad. He took that contract before I even got here. The dates prove it. He earned that job.”
“Perhaps.” My father shrugs, a useless motion compared to his cutting words. “It hardly matters now.”
Ice slides down my spine. “What do you mean, it hardly matters?”
“I’ve instructed Jenn to place the Montgomery contract under review,” he says, mild.
Bored, even. “Standard practice when a conflict of interest comes to light. The resort has a reputation of its own to protect. We can’t have it whispered that contracts are being awarded on the basis of… personal favors.”
The floor drops out from under me. “You pulled his contract?”
“I put it under review.”
“That’s their livelihood, Dad, their reputation, that’s Levi’s—” I can hear myself climbing, and I can’t stop it. “They did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. You can’t just—”
“I can do whatever I like.” His harsh gaze meets mine. “It’s my resort, my name. You’d do well to remember whose you carry.”
And there it is. The whole of my father in one sentence.
Because that’s all this has ever been for him.
Not the resorts, not me. It’s about control.
The pleasure he finds in holding every string and watching everyone dance.
He didn’t come here worried about my judgment or my safety.
He came here because for six weeks I existed somewhere he couldn’t reach, doing something he didn’t sanction, wanting someone he didn’t approve—and Daniel Winton cannot abide one thing he doesn’t control.
I’m shaking. I set my hands flat on the table so no one can see.
“That’s really who you are, isn’t it? You’d wreck two good men’s livelihoods just to remind me you can.”
He scoffs. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Dramatic.” A laugh scrapes out of me, ugly and disbelieving.
“Rhett Montgomery is the best man I have ever known. He’s been amazing to Tyler and me.
Helpful and kind. Tyler has learned more from him in the last few weeks than he could ever learn in those shitty online classes you have him doing.
And he’ll learn even more before the month is out. ”
“Oh, well, Tyler won’t be staying.” Michelle chooses this exact catastrophic moment to reach over to pat my hand with a bright, oblivious smile.
“And his schooling won’t be an issue for much longer anyway, will it?
Daniel’s gotten Tyler a spot at Kingsley Prep for the spring semester.
It’s where Shea went, honey! Isn’t that wonderful? ”
“No.” The word comes out of me like a gunshot. The whole table stops and Tyler’s head snaps upright for the first time all night.
“Excuse me?” my father growls, sitting up straight with a hard glare.
“I said no.” I meet his glare and hold it, my heart slamming against my ribs, but my voice is steady. “Tyler is not going to Kingsley.”
“Tyler,” my father says coldly, “will do as he’s told. As will you.”
“He’s fifteen, Dad. He’s not an employee you get to reassign.” I keep it civil for one more breath. “He’s finally happy. He’s got friends, a girl he likes, a whole family that’s taken him in. He’s thriving. And you want to ship him off to that place?”
“That place,” my father cuts in, “made something of you.”
“That place nearly broke me,” I shout, vibrating with anger now. How dare he?
Michelle’s smile falters. “Shea…”
“No, you should hear it.” I turn to Michelle, shaking now, not with fear but with something that’s been building for over a decade.
“That school wasn’t a gift. It was a place he sent me so he wouldn’t have to look at me.
I was thirteen. I cried myself to sleep for a year.
And every time I called home asking to come back, do you know what he said?
He said, Wintons don’t quit, and then he’d hang up and go back to whatever wife he had that month. ”
My father’s chair scrapes the polished hardwoods as he stands. “Goddammit, Shea! That’s enough!”
“It’s not enough!” The last thread of my control snaps clean in two.
My voice rises and I don’t care who hears it.
I don’t care that the whole restaurant has gone silent.
I don’t care about a single thing except the boy sitting frozen across from me.
“You had a daughter, and you handed her to nannies until she was old enough to hand to a boarding school, and now you’ve got a stepson you’ve known for two months and you’re doing the exact same thing because it’s easier than being a father to him! ”
“I am giving that boy an opportunity.”
“You’re giving him away!” I’m on my feet now, but I don’t remember standing.
“That’s all you know how to do! You collect people, Dad.
Wives, kids, resorts—you collect us and you put us somewhere convenient for you.
You call it love because you paid for it.
Well, I’m not thirteen anymore, and Tyler is not going anywhere.
If you want to punish us for having the audacity to be happy without you, then you can punish me.
Not him. Not Rhett. Not Levi and their company. Me.”
My father’s face has gone a mottled, furious red even under his dark complexion.
He stabs a finger at the table hard enough to rattle the glasses.
“Do you have any idea what I have given you? Everything you have, everything you are, came from me, and this is the thanks I get?” He’s loud now, spit flying.
“Ungrateful, the lot of you. You know what you are—you’re done! ”
“No. We are,” I say calmly, and somehow, that stops him more than any scream would. I turn to my stepbrother. “Get up. We’re leaving.”
He stares at me, wide-eyed and frozen, and for one terrible second I think he’s too scared to move. Then he stands. He doesn’t look at his mother. He doesn’t look at my father. He picks up his hoodie and stands beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. I put my hand on his back and feel him trembling.
“Shea.” Michelle’s eyes are wet and torn. Her hands flutter helplessly between her husband and her son. “Tyler, honey. Let’s talk about this.”
“He’s staying with me tonight,” I tell her, and I make my voice as kind as I can, because none of this is her fault, not really.
“We’ll talk again when everyone’s calmer.
” I dig cash out of my bag and drop it on the table—mostly because I know nothing will piss my father off more in this moment than if I pay.
I meet my father’s blazing eyes one last time.
“Oh, and for the record. The house is beautiful, the show is going to be incredible, and I did all of it without you.”
I put my arm around Tyler’s shoulders and walk us out with my chin held high and my hands shaking. The second the door closes behind us, Tyler’s composure cracks.
“Shea,” he breathes, small and wrecked. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.” I pull him into me, right there in the parking lot, and hold him tight. He holds me right back. “I promised you, remember? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I’ve got you’re back, Ty. You’re my brother.”
He grabs fistfuls of my coat and I feel him shaking. Over the top of his head I fumble my phone out of my pocket with one hand to make a call and get us a ride out of here.
Rhett picks up before the first ring finishes.