by Leaona Luxx
Rolling my eyes at Brannon, I curl my lip in disgust. He chuckles. “I’ll be up in a few, let me find out what he wants.” I hand my book to Brannon while my father waits impatiently. I know Brannon wants to say something so I beat him to it. “I’ll be fine. One more day.” Clutching his hand, he smiles then kisses me before turning to walk upstairs. He looks back several times on his way up. I try my best not to look nervous, giving him winks and wrinkle my nose. I even stick my tongue out at him, breaking into a huge smile after.
Knocking on my father’s door, I wait for his acknowledgment before entering. “Come.” Such a pleasant way to address your only child.
“Father, you wanted to see me?” I question as if I have no clue what this could be about. He levels me with a cutting glare.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He folds his arms over his chest.
I give him a pointed stare. “Meaning?”
“Do not play with me, young lady. Why the hell did you bring him here? Do you think you’re winning points?” he yells at me, and I cringe knowing Brannon can hear him as his words carry up the stairs.
“No, I do not. Nor am I trying to ‘win’ at anything. I like him.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand my ground.
He leans back, grabbing the armrests of the chair. “Get him out of my home. You were not raised to go slumming.”
What the fuck? “I’m not slumming. If you would only give him a chance. He’s brilliant, earning various scholarships,” I argue.
“Scholarships? I can just imagine you being his beneficiary next. Did you know they’re poor? You no longer visit your friends. You’ve been seen in numerous places with him. I know he stays at my apartment. You’ve literally become a whore to a vagrant.” His face is distorted as he spits venom at me.
“You have no clue who he is, and you certainly are judging him unfairly,” I protest as my father would expect, the proper way.
He sneers, “Get rid of him or I will.” My father stands, moving around his desk to stand over me. “Or you’ll both be sorry.” He storms from the room, slamming the door.
Drying my face, I hurry upstairs. Once at the top, I see Brannon propped against the wall. The look on his face tells me he heard everything. I frantically search my mind for the right words, but Brannon knows I’m without a defense. For me or him.
Taking a step toward him, he stops me cold with his gaze. “I don’t know what to say. He’s an asshole.”
Brannon pushes off the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I know, you told me.” He stands there studying the wall on the other side of the stairwell.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve said more. Taken up for you.” He glowers at me, though, I’m not sure what more I could’ve done.
He shakes his head, hanging it. “What about you?”
I’m confused. “What about me? I know I should’ve said more, I’m sorry.”
“No, Torrie. You should’ve taken up for yourself. You are the most important thing here,” he answers me with a look a disgust.
“How? He’s my father, I can’t speak to him like that.” I scowl at him.
“Yes, you can. Damn it. You would never let anyone else talk to you that way. Why him?” he demands with his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
“No, I can’t. He would never allow me. Furthermore, I have a lot to lose. You wouldn’t understand.” I plead with him to understand.
“You’re right.” I search his eyes because my gut tells me there’s more. “He is, too. I don’t belong here.” He wheels around and stomps to his room, slamming the door behind him. I rush to his door, throwing it open. Brannon’s eyes are wide as I pin him with my glare.
“I know you can’t fathom why I don’t stand up to him. I can’t explain it myself, all I can say is I want his love. I always have. If I do something that he refuses to reason with, it will divide us forever. I’m not ready to give up on him yet.” I tremble as I try to explain it to him.
“I know it’s important to you that your father loves and respects you. I can’t help to wonder, what price comes with it? How far will you go to get it? And at the risk of sounding selfish, where do I fit in?” He twists his mouth to the side as he shakes his head in despair.
“I’m not sure about any of it. What I can say, without a doubt, is that I will fight for us. It may not be the way you would, but I will stand for us,” I declare as I wipe the tear trailing down my face.
Brannon closes the distances between us and wraps me in his arms. “I believe in you.” His words are a reminder of what he gives me that no one else ever has—strength.
“Good. I need someone to. Now, I better leave before the warden finds out we’re in the same room.” I kiss him, allowing our lips to linger just a second longer than I should. “Goodnight.”
“Night.” He releases me with a frown. I don’t want to leave either. But I do, closing his door behind me.
I knew this would be hard, but come on. I can’t wage a war against my father, that would get us nowhere. Brannon just needs to understand my father must have absolute power. He knows I will never walk away from Brannon.
That’s why he leveled so many threats. No way would he leave his only child destitute. I should have told him how much Brannon means to me. Ask him to give us a chance, to see if we are going to work out. I should’ve said something. Anything is better than nothing. Fuck.
Prying my eyes open, I register it’s morning. I must’ve cried myself to sleep. I scramble from my bed, sprinting to my door to look for Brannon. Reaching for the handle, I see a slip of paper lying by the seal. Picking it up, my heart sinks, I know it’s from him before I even open it.
Torrie,
I will not take you from your family. I’m going home.
Brannon
What has my father done now? That’s all it says. I rush from my room, hoping to catch him. I’ll leave with him. I can’t stay here without him. I can’t believe this, he would never leave without me unless he thought I would have to choose.
“Father. Father!” I yell as I hit the bottom step. I spin around the room, looking for any sight of Brannon or my father. I see his office door ajar. I run over, slamming the door against the adjoining wall when I enter. “What have you done?” I scream.
His eyes go wide, then he glowers at me. “What do you think? I told him he wasn’t welcome.”
“You have no right.” I’m seething.
“I have every right. And I will do it again if need be.” He stands, slamming his hands against his desk.
“You’re right, you do have every right. For your home. But my apartment was purchased with my dividends. I’m going home.” Whirling around, I bolt from his office.
Charging the stairs, I sprint to my room and pack. If Brannon can’t stay here, I’m not staying. I hurry out the front door as my mother’s number flashes across my phone screen. I’m not going back, not without Brannon. I don’t care if I have nothing, he means more to me.
I settle in for the night, hoping to give Torrie time to think about her father’s wants. I don’t want to be the reason they argue, I want her to be the reason she stands up for herself. My dad would have never embarrassed me like this, let alone throw around ultimatums.
Sure, he wants what’s best for his daughter. No, I may not be it, but it needs to be her decision, not his. I want to hold her, I want to reassure her she can do anything she sets her mind to. No, I don’t know all the details of her relationship with her father, but I do know Torrie deserves more.
A light knock on my door startles me, and a surge of excitement courses through me at the possibility that it’s Torrie. I should’ve already went to her, but I’m being stubborn. Pulling the legs down on my basketball shorts, I answer the door. It’s not Torrie, it’s their houseman.
“Pardon me, Mr. O’Hurley. Mr. Harrington requests a moment of your time.” He steps away from the entrance, sweeping his hand toward the hallway.
“Sure thing.” I’m not dressed
appropriately, but I’ve been requested.
He shows me to Mr. Harrington’s office, knocking before we enter. As Mr. Harrington’s voice booms through the space, the houseman opens the door and steps aside to allow me entry before closing it behind me. Great, I’m in the lair. Now what am I supposed to do? As the chair at the desk turns slowly, he sits there with a file.
“You wanted to see me?” Standing casually. I look dead in his eyes.
“Sit.” He motions for the chair in front of his massive, mahogany desk.
“No, thank you. I feel as though I should stand.” Spit it out, dude.
“Have it your way, but mark my words, that will be all you have your way with.” Laying the file down, he opens it. “I see your family’s broke. You haven’t a penny to your name. Your college is depending on your grades for scholarships.”
Tell me something I don’t know. “We’re not broke, we’re just not rich. I’ve worked hard for all that I have—grades, my scholarship, helping my mom with the farm.”
“Why are you with my daughter?” He stares daggers at me.
“Because I care for her.” I shift my stance.
“No, you do not care for her. And I will make it so she doesn’t feel the same way if you persist seeing her.” Leaning back in his chair, he sizes me up.
“How, may I ask, will you do that?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I’m ready for a fight.
He sits there studying me. His hand on his chin, tapping it as though he’s a villain in a cartoon. He is seriously considering his daughter’s downfall. Torrie’s right, her father is the kind of man I have never seen the likes of before.
“Not that I need to prove anything to you, but I will disown her. She will lose everything. Car, apartment, money. Most importantly, she will never run my company. So, how much do you care about her now?” Still, he thinks he’s intimidating me.
“Torrie is an intelligent woman. She’s strong and more than capable of making sound decisions. Why don’t we allow her to decide what she wants?” I’m trying to remain calm and polite, but I’m losing my cool. Not a good thing around this man.
“So, you fucked her. Isn’t that enough? Oh, do you want to be paid for your job?” Outrage fills me as my resolve breaks, I’m about to knock this old fucker out. Who talks about their daughter that way? Sick fuck.
“You can say and do as you please to me, but you will not speak of her that way in front of me. Do you understand me?” Fisting my hands at my sides, I tamper down the urge to act on impulse.
“White trash. I recorded this conversation. By the time she hears it, it will be of you threatening me and she’ll never speak to you again. Now, get the hell out of my house.” His face flames red, and my soul burns. He can’t be serious.
“I’ll not make her pick. But one day, she’ll choose.” Outraged, I turn to walk away, but he stops me short.
“Choose what? COO or pauper? Trust me, she doesn’t know how to be poor.” He levels his glare at me.
“No, sir. She’ll choose between the love she has and the one she wants.” Walking out the door, I know I need to leave, but there’s no way I can take her from her family. Against my better judgment, I pack my bags and go home. No way can I ask Torrie to turn her back on her family. Family is all I have, I won’t ask her to choose.
I know, I feel like a dog. Leaving in the middle of the night like a thief, but I couldn’t stay. When her father told me to leave or he’d take everything from her, I had to. There’s no way I could be responsible for her losing everything. I want her to stand up for herself, but I’m not sure she can with him.
My wait isn’t long at the airport, although they reroute me through connecting flights with layovers making my travel time much longer than anticipated. I’ll arrive in Shallotte later than originally planned. I hate to have Mom out so late, though it can’t be avoided. I couldn’t stay there another minute.
Torrie is going to be livid, and I can’t blame her. Bailing on her like this ain’t good, and I’ll have to beg my way back into her good graces. I board the plane and find my seat. Checking my phone one last time before switching it to airplane mode, I still haven’t heard from Torrie. Damn, I hate myself for leaving.
As soon as I land, I drag my phone out. I turn it on as I enter the baggage claim, and it immediately lights up with text messages. Two from my mom, six from Ava, and none from Torrie. Fuck. I load my mom messages.
What did I think would happen? I knew she would pick them, she should. I’m hoping she’ll text, but if she doesn’t, I’ll understand. Eventually. I could never imagine being in her position. Having to choose between loving someone and my family.
I grab my bag and shove my phone in my pocket. Wheeling around the corner, I almost run into my mother’s waiting arms, dropping my bag at our feet. Even for a big guy like me, hugging my mom is all I need once in a while.
“Brannon. I’ve missed you.” I hold her tight as she does me.
“Me too, Mom.” Squeezing her one last time, I release her and grab my bag.
“Ava’s called. I wouldn’t let her come. At first, I thought Torrie would be here, but when the plans changed, I wanted to have time to talk,” she says. This woman has a sixth sense, I guess all moms do.
“Thank God. I just can’t handle Ava today.” I throw my arm around her shoulder, kissing her on the forehead as we walk out the doors.
I toss my bag in the truck, Mom tosses me the keys so I can drive home. Home, I need some time to think. Cruising up Highway Seventeen, all I can think about is Torrie. I was too hard on her, damn it. That’s her father, I have no right telling her how to handle him.
“Talk,” her only word is a demand. Moms are the best.
“Torrie is amazing, she fits me in every way. Her father hates me because I’m not rich. Oldest story in the book, one I would rather to not have been a part of.” Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, they go pale. Every time I think of his sarcastic ass, my heart rate speeds and I begin to shake.
“What does Torrie say?” Mom hasn’t looked at me yet, it’s like going to confession. My stomach tightens knowing I’m about to admit I’ve failed.
“She knows he’s demanding, manipulative, and a pompous ass, but she will not stand up to him.” I glance over at her, she nods her head. So, why is my stomach still in knots? “And that makes it difficult for me to do it.”
“True, but he’s still her father. Surely, you don’t want to be responsible for their falling out?” she asks honestly. I flex my grip on the steering wheel, trying to convince myself I did the right thing.
“No. That’s why I’m here and she’s there.” I frown as I shake my head. “If it’s the right thing to do, why is my heart pounding outta my chest and I feel like throwing up?”
“So, what’s the problem?” She levels me with a questioning glare, and I know she’s wondering if I’m telling her everything. “What are you worried about?”
“She hasn’t texted me.” Discouraged, I glance over at her, she nods as if knowing I didn’t do all I should’ve done.
“Did you ask her to?” Simple enough, it’s just that, no. I can feel the heat race up my face, I’m just not sure if it’s from anger or fear from what her father’s done or me.
“No. I was angry, with her and her father.” Ashamed, I pull into our driveway, avoiding glancing over at her. I’m thankful I’m driving.
She slaps my arm, jolting me from my misery. “Why not? You’re the one leaving, not her.”
“I left a note.” Crestfallen, I turn my head, mumbling my answer. I park the truck, shaking my head at my lack of judgment.
“You did what?” Her voice cracks with irritation.
“I know. I’m a dumb ass.” Disappointed in myself, I lay my head back on the seat. I stare up at the roof for answers that aren’t there.
“Damn straight, you are. A jackass is more like it. I guess it’s to be expected.” She opens her door, slamming it after.
Huh? I follow her up
the steps. “What? Why is it expected?” I demand, mad as hell.
She turns to me on the top step, looking down, she cups my cheek in her hand. “You’re a good man. You still have so much to learn, especially about women.” She playfully pats my face.
“He told me to ‘leave or he would take everything from Torrie’, and that’s a quote.” I step up beside her feeling powerless.
“It’s Torrie’s decision, and you have to let her make it. Still, you shouldn’t have left without talking to her.” Reluctantly, I see she’s got a point.
“I know. It’s complicated.” I feel dejected when she hugs me. She opens the door, and we walk into the house.
“Are you hungry?” Mom asks me.
“Naw, I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.” I’m feeling defeated today, so I’m not hungry. My phone vibrates as I walk up the stairs, it’s Ava. I don’t feel like talking to her, so I let it go to voicemail.
I stare at the ceiling for God knows how long, tossing and turning most of the night. I can’t sleep, Torrie is all I can think about. She hasn’t texted me. I have little hope she will. I shouldn’t have left, not without talking to her. A tightness in the pit of my stomach is making me feel sick.
Late, I decide to take a trip out to the barn, it’s where I go to talk to my dad. It’s as though I can feel his presence every time I come out here. I tinker around trying to keep my mind busy, looking for something constructive to do. Hoping to hear my dad’s calming voice talk to me. I mess around with the tractor motor, Mom said it had a miss in it the other day.
As I busy myself with the motor, I lay out every sordid detail of the situation with Torrie. I’m not sure if I’m expecting a sign of some sort or saying it out loud helps me sort it. I can’t help but think Dad would have the best advice if he were here. He would tell me how to handle it.
A few hours later, the motor is fixed, but Torrie is still at the forefront of my thoughts. One thing I’m sure of, I have to talk to her. Should I message her? Call? What if she’s still there? What if she hates me? Damn it, there are so many things I need to work on, especially in myself.