“We asked him not to be here until we talked to you. Ryder updated me,” Logan explains.
My eyes widen, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline. “Ryder talked to you? He’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”
“Before,” Logan clarifies. “He called me, said Dad had visited and you were very upset. He told me what Dad said and asked me to look out for you while he figured out what to do. He wanted you to have our support.”
Logan pauses, his gaze softening. “He also said he intended to confront Dad and wanted to know if we’d continue to support you.”
“Confront Dad?” I repeat. “He didn’t tell me anything about that.” The realization that he’d been planning to face my father on my behalf sends a rush of emotion through me.
“He sounded worried,” Logan says. “He loves you, Peanut.”
I nod, tears welling up again. The weight of everything Ryder has done for me, everything he’s risking, crashes over me. “And now he might not survive because of me.”
“He’ll be okay,” Logan assures me, and the others nod. “He’s strong. He’ll fight to come back to you. I know he’s fighting with everything he’s got for you.”
My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. “I'm not giving him up,” I whisper, the words raw and ragged. “Not for Dad, not for anyone.”
“Dad loves to control our lives. He always has. Although you’ve always been the one to challenge him and cause trouble,” Liam says.
I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “He changed after Mom died. He stopped dedicating time to the house and invested everything in the company.”
“I know,” Lucas says, a shadow passing over his face. “He’s not the same as he was when I was a kid. Appearances and the company became the center of his life. Hell, he forced me to get married for the sake of appearances.”
Lucas’ expression softens. “Don’t get me wrong, that was the best thing that could happen to me. Ava’s the light of my life. Whatever his intentions were, it brought me Ava. Now that I know what love feels like, I won’t let him take it away from you. If you’re sure about Ryder. If you’re sure he’s the one you want.”
He reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “If Ryder's your Ava…” The unspoken question hangs in the air.
“He is,” I say, breathing out, my chest aching with the truth of it.
Logan clears his throat, always the pragmatist. “We've got your back, Little Sister. No matter what.”
A lump forms in my throat as I look at them—my protectors, my constants. “You guys…” I choke out. “You’re the best brothers anyone could ask for. I love all of you.” I turn to each of them.
“Logan, you’re the serious and calculated one among us, and I know I can always count on you. Lucas, you’re wild sometimes?—”
“Not anymore!” he interjects with a grin, a flash of his old mischievous self shining through. “Don’t say something like that in front of Ava. She’ll kill me.”
I can’t help but laugh, the sound foreign after everything that’s happened. “So you were wild, but I know that if I need anything, you’ll always have my back.”
He nods, his expression turning serious again. “Always.”
I turn to Liam and squeeze his hand, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been like a second father to me. You were there when he wasn’t.”
I look at all of them, feeling a surge of determination. “And because of that, I can’t let you do this for me. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll get myself out of it.” I stand up, my decision made. “Now tell me where he is.”
They all point toward the yard in unison, a comical sight that would make me laugh under different circumstances.
“We asked him to leave until we finish talking,” Liam says.
“He’s at the golf course,” Lucas says, standing up and facing me. He grips my shoulders. “Now go eat him alive.”
I lift my chin, drawing strength from their support. I turn right and grab one of the golf carts parked on the side, the keys in the ignition.
I drive toward the putting green and rehearse what I’m going to say in my head. The future of my relationship with Ryder and my entire life, hangs in the balance. But I’m ready. I’m a Valeur, after all, and we don’t back down from a fight.
I spot my father’s silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun. He’s standing with a golf club in hand, hitting balls into the distance. It’s a familiar sight—he always comes here when he’s angry or upset. Not a good sign.
I stop the golf cart a short distance away and continue on foot, my heart pounding with each step. The manicured grass cushions my footsteps, but I know he senses my presence. His shoulders tense, his swing faltering for just a moment.
