She cleared her throat. “No. Spring was a pro cyclist, and now she’s studying to become a teacher.” Victoria reached for her water glass. “And Treese is an athletic trainer.”
Cillian laughed. “Bet your old man threw a fit.”
Victoria finished her sip of water and lowered the glass, her attention flitting to Cillian’s face as if uncertain she was safe to land there. But she did, a hint of pain in the depths of her eyes.
He dropped his smile and held her gaze. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about it. It’s probably been rough for them and you.” And meant he’d been exactly right about her father not changing, still demanding and bullying his children into doing everything he wanted.
She didn’t look away for a few beats, her eyebrows dipping slightly as she studied him. “It was difficult with Spring, but I’m hoping he’ll come around, given the circumstances.”
Was Victoria actually confiding in him? About her family? The encouragement pumped his pulse a little quicker. This was faster progress than he’d thought he might make. He had realized it could take a while to get back to where she would confide in him like she used to, when she’d poured out her hurting heart about her father, and Cillian had been her shoulder to cry on. And then when her mother was dying, he’d been her support and escape, too. At least until…
“Treese is his favorite, so he seems to have given her a pass.”
Anger from the memory he’d accidentally stumbled into surged to the surface. “You should be his favorite, Vicks.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly. Probably from the nickname he’d given her years ago. The one that would make her smile and melt like butter.
“You’ve done everything for him. You’re perfect. You do everything he wants.” Including dumping Cillian. Though he kept that reminder to himself.
“That’s not true.” She gripped her water glass on the table like she needed something to hold on to and look at. “I’ve…displeased him plenty of times. He only wants what is best for all of us. He loves us.”
That was new. Cillian stared at her as she refused to look up. She’d always done what her father wanted, but she hadn’t defended him. She would share how hard it was, how she wondered if he loved her at all, how she wished he wasn’t so harsh and difficult to please.
Now, she sounded like a brainwashing success story. Her father’s brainwashing. Years with a manipulative bully could do that to a person.
Cillian had seen it plenty of times as a social worker, especially during his years rescuing children in family social work.
She was still Daddy’s girl, controlled and trapped under his thumb. But now it was worse. Now she thought she wanted to be.
Cillian had to find a way to fix that. “Have you ever stopped to wonder what you want? How you want to live your own life?”
Her features tightened as something flickered in her eyes. She grabbed her purse off the bench and stood, somehow avoiding the inelegant slide most people had to execute to exit a booth.
“Victoria, wait.”
She angled toward the booth and glared down at him. “I am no longer an impressionable fifteen-year-old you can charm or influence. It’s good our jobs will not bring us into contact with each other frequently. I expect you’ll maintain professionalism at all times and keep our shared past to yourself.”
“Is Victoria Weston asking me to lie?” He only half-succeeded in holding back a smile. He couldn’t help it. Her new fiery spirit and strength were amazing, making her even more beautiful and maddeningly attractive than ever.
“Of course not.” She gripped the purse strap she’d placed over her shoulder. “If someone asks you about it directly, you should answer truthfully. But you don’t have to offer unnecessary information. I certainly hope you didn’t come here to hurt me or my family by dredging up past mistakes.”
Ah. There it was. So she did blame him for what happened. He’d always thought so, though she’d denied it when she had called to break up with him.
Well, he’d have to deal with that obstacle, too, if he was going to succeed in rescuing her and winning her back. He sobered and met her accusatory glare. “No. I didn’t come for that.” With the exception of her father.
“Good.” She pressed her lips together in that pinched expression. “If you’ve truly returned in connection with me for some unknown reason, then I suggest you leave again and forget about me as you did before. We’ll all be better off.”
He stood, quickly, so she wouldn’t have enough warning to leave.
She barely got in one step back in the second it took for him to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at him instead.
“I never forgot you, Vicks. Never.”
She stared up at him, frozen with her elegant brows pushed together and a battle of emotions playing out in her eyes. Fear, confusion, anger, and what he hoped was longing. For him.
She spun on her heels and left, the fear or anger apparently winning out. For now.
He wouldn’t leave this time, even if she asked him to. He’d changed in that way, too. He had learned how to fight bullies and win.
