Chapter 27 #2
“Your old man was one of the good ones. He was a bit set in his ways, but he was a man of his word.” Dad leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“What I worry about isn’t if you can take care of her.
It’s if you’ll respect what she’s worked for.
She’s got a mind sharper than all the men I’ve ever met combined.
Sometimes she lets it get to her head,” he mutters, earning my glare, “but she’s built her life her way. ”
“I know that,” Scotty says, quiet but steady. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about her. She’s… stubborn as hell, sure. But it’s one of the reasons I fell for her. It’s one of the many reasons I admire her. She’s independent and hellbent on doing things her way.”
Dad’s brows lift, just slightly and he lets out a huff that’s about as close to a laugh as you’re going to get with him. “That she is.”
“Hey,” I elbow Scotty, “don’t start bonding over your inaccurate opinions of me.”
Dad just shakes his head and leans back in his chair again.
“You know, I spent a lot of years thinking I had to prove myself, too. When I was younger, I couldn’t stand being ‘Hudson Slade, Drake’s little brother.
’ Everywhere I went, that name came before me.
Even when I worked there during high school, people treated me like a tagalong. ”
He stares out at the dark yard, like he’s reliving those memories. “That’s why I enlisted. Figured if I couldn’t make a name for myself here, I’d make one somewhere that didn’t give a damn about Slade money or family.”
I’ve heard pieces of this story before, but not like this, not this raw.
“Turns out, all that time trying to prove myself didn’t change much. Even after years away, when I came back, I still felt like I didn’t fit. Took me a long time to realize you don’t have to prove your worth to anyone but yourself.”
Scotty nods. “That’s exactly why I never joined Slade Brewing, Sir.
Everyone thought I was crazy for turning down a shot to work there years ago.
I could’ve had an office and benefits. But that wasn’t my path.
I knew from a young age I wanted to work on cars.
” He holds up a finger, “I’m good at it, always have been, and two,” he adds a second finger, “I realized I could get paid for it.”
Dad studies him for a long moment. Then, with a faint grunt, nods. “Can’t argue with that.”
The night air seems to shift, the tension starting to slowly dissipate.
Dad sets his empty glass on the table, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Alright then. If we’re all done with the dramatic porch speeches, let’s go inside before your mother comes out here wondering if I buried one of you in the pasture. ”
Scotty huffs a small, nervous laugh. “Yes, sir.”
When I look at Scotty, his eyes meet mine. “You okay?” I whisper.
He gives a small, crooked smile. “Better than earlier, but I’m still not convinced he won’t try to kill me later.”
“I promise.” I smile up at him, sliding my hand into his, “I won't help him hide your body if he does.”
Inside, I can already hear Mom moving around the kitchen, calling our names. Dad opens the door and motions for us to hurry up, “Let’s eat before your mother decides to feed the neighbors instead.”
Scotty glances at me. “Guess I’m staying for dinner?”
I squeeze his hand, feeling a nervous flutter run through me. “Guess so.”
The clink of silverware and the quiet scrape of plates fill the space between us.
It’s not silence exactly, just that thick, uncomfortable quiet that feels awkward as hell.
No one speaks for a full minute. I steal a glance at Scotty.
He’s calm on the surface, but I can see the faint tension in his jaw.
I nudge his leg gently under the table. He flicks his eyes toward me, one corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile.
“So,” Mom says finally, setting her fork down with a soft clatter, “that went better than expected.”
Dad snorts into his drink. “That’s debatable.”
She shoots him a warning look. “Hudson.”
He grumbles something unintelligible and takes another bite of potatoes.
I clear my throat. “This chicken is really good, Mom.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she says sweetly before turning to Scotty. “What about you, Scotty? Are you okay? You’re still breathing, so that’s a good sign, right?”
Scotty smiles politely. “Yes, ma’am. So far so good.”
She grins. “Well, that’s a good start. At least my grumpy husband hasn’t scared you off yet.”
My face is on fire. Why does this feel like I’m sixteen all over again, and mom and dad are meeting my first boyfriend?
Dad doesn’t look up. “Not trying to scare him off. Just making sure he knows what he’s getting into.”
“Excuse me?" I scoff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Scotty meets his gaze evenly, giving my knee a gentle squeeze under the table. “I do, sir.”
“Don’t do that,” I scold both of them. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, it’s annoying.”
“I’m sorry," Scotty leans in, clearly forgetting where we are, and kisses me.
I freeze, so does he, and then his eyes fly open and he sits back.
The air tightens again, but only for a second because I burst into laughter, covering my face with my napkin at the completely outrageous situation this has become.
Mom sighs, leans back in her chair, and waves her hand like she’s brushing the tension away. “Honestly, this whole thing reminds me of us back in the day.”
“Deven,” Dad warns.
She ignores him. “I’m serious, Hudson. You don’t remember? We were the same way—me showing up where I wasn’t supposed to, you constantly staring at me then telling me I was the one causing trouble.”
“Because you were trouble,” he mutters.
She beams. “Still am.”
I shake my head. “Here we go.”
Scotty looks intrigued, a little nervous. “Should I brace myself?”
“Yes,” I say at the same time Dad grumbles, “No.”
Mom props her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling like she’s already lost in a daydream. “See, I was the Scotty in this relationship.”
Scotty blinks. “Ma’am?”
She laughs. “Oh, don’t look so alarmed. I mean, I was the one his parents didn’t approve of. The ‘wrong choice.’ The one they swore would ruin the family name.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “They weren’t wrong. I did sneak into a bar with a fake ID.”
“Deven.” Dad’s tone drops a full octave. “They don’t need every dirty detail.”
“Oh, hush, they’re grown. Besides, they love it.” She glances at me. “Don’t you?”
“I mostly love watching Dad squirm,” I laugh.
“That’s my girl. Anyway, there I was, eighteen, wild, and too smart for my own good. And there he was, sitting at the bar, looking like every broken-hearted soldier in every movie.”
Scotty chuckles low, earning him a quick look of warning from Dad. He sobers immediately. “Sorry, sir.”
Mom continues, unfazed. “His eyes told me what I already knew: he didn’t stand a chance the second he saw me. I asked him to buy me a drink, and he told me to go home.”
Dad groans. “Because you were underage.”
“Details,” she says, waving a hand. “Anyway, he didn’t, of course. But we ended up talking until closing. And the next morning, he found out that I was his best friend’s little sister.” She smirks. “And they were roommates at the time.”
My jaw drops even though I’ve heard this story a dozen times. “Mom, you were insane,” I laugh, still having a hard time imagining my mom as a wild child. “Kind of a total badass, though, to be honest.”
“She’s a bad influence,” Dad winks. “And she’s lucky her brother didn’t kill me.”
“I’m lucky you didn’t run.”
Dad grunts, “I should have.”
“But you didn’t,” she says, her hand sliding across the table to rest on his. “You stayed. Even when everyone told you not to.”
Something softens in Dad’s eyes as he looks at her, the rough edges fading like they always do when he stares at Mom. “Yeah. Guess I did.”
Mom smiles and turns to Scotty. “So, you see, I have a soft spot for the men my husband swears are bad ideas. He’s usually wrong.”
Dad grunts. “Usually.”
Scotty looks between them and smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good, now finish your plate.” Mom nods toward his still half-eaten pile of vegetables that he’s clearly avoiding. “If you don’t, you don’t get apple pie.”
After we finish dinner, Scotty offers to help clear the table, but Mom waves him off immediately, “Absolutely not. You’re a guest. Adrienne, Axel—grab those plates.”
“Axel?” I ask, confused, until I hear the back door creak open.
“Smells like dinner’s over,” he says, stepping in. “Oh, dessert, hell yeah, perfect timing.”
Mom grins. “You’re late.”
“Grab a dish towel,” I tell him, stacking plates in his hands, freshly cleaned from the dishwasher. “You’re on drying duty.”
He salutes me. “Yes, ma’am.”
Scotty chuckles under his breath as he leans against the counter, watching the chaos.
I catch him sneaking a look at me every now and then, that soft, private smile that still makes my stomach flip.
When I pass him with the last of the glasses, his fingers graze mine, just enough to send a jolt through me.
He murmurs, “Your family’s something else. ”
“That’s one way to put it,” I tease. “Still sure you’re up for it?”
Before he can respond, Dad’s voice calls from the living room. “Scotty. Got a minute?”
“Yes, sir.” He leans in, glancing quickly over his shoulder this time before kissing me and whispering. “If he kills me, I love you.”
I glance over at my mom when she laughs softly. “Relax, sweetheart. If your father was going to murder him, he wouldn’t invite him for a drink first.”
Axel snorts. “Pretty sure that’s exactly what he would die. Get his victim to feel relaxed, let his guard down, and then go in for the kill.”
“Axel.” Mom swats him with the dish towel.
“You sound like a psychopath, you know that?”
Axel rolls his eyes at me, “Watch any Dateline episode and tell me I’m wrong.”