“He’s in the dining room,” Sawyer says quietly. “Everyone’s here.”
“How angry is he?”
“Scale of one to ten?” Sawyer’s jaw tightens. “Fifteen.”
Fuck.
I guide Saint through the door, through the grand entryway with its vaulted ceilings and mounted elk heads. The house smells like leather and cedar, a scent that used to mean home but now just means danger.
The dining room sits at the back of the house, a massive space dominated by a table that could seat twenty. Right now, it seats four.
Roman sits at the head of the table like a king on his throne. He’s removed his Stetson, and in the harsh overhead lighting, I can see every line of fury etched into his face. His silver belt buckle catches the light as he leans back in his chair, beer in hand, watching us enter with eyes like chips of flint.
Kade sits to his left, arms crossed, expression dark and eager. He’s been waiting for this, for me to fuck up badly enough that Roman’s attention turns my way instead of his. Or at least a moment where he can spit an “I told you so” in my face.
Levi’s on the right, still in his riding gear, jaw clenched tight. He won’t meet my eyes. I’m not sure what that’s about. He’s probably pissed that his competition got cut short. At the far end of the table, Sawyer takes a seat, opening his laptop like he’s here to take notes.
“Sit.” Roman’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.
Two empty chairs are left, the rest who the fuck knows where, one beside Levi and one beside Kade. I know this charade and have experienced it myself. They want to split us apart, and that’s not going to fucking happen.
I snag the chair beside Kade and drag it beside Levi, then I guide Saint to the one beside Levi, figuring he’s the safer option than leaving her back unprotected. Then I take the empty chair and brace myself.
Roman takes a long pull from his beer, eyes never leaving us. The silence stretches, taut and dangerous. This is his favoritetactic—to draw out the suspense, to make us wait, make us sweat, and make us understand that even if he hasn’t spoken yet, he’s the one in control.
Finally, he sets down his beer with deliberate care.
“I suppose I should congratulate you?” His voice is deceptively calm. “It’s just, I thought I raised you better, to show more respect. With enough decency to tell your mother and I before you decided to get married. Instead, we had to learn about it from the goddamn newspaper.”
“Dad—”
“Did I ask you to speak?” Roman’s gaze pins me in place. “No. I didn’t. So shut your fucking mouth and let me finish.”
I close my mouth. Beside me, Saint trembles, but she manages to keep her features clear and calm.Good girl.
“If that’s not enough, the icing on the cake of dis-fucking-respect,” Roman continues, “is that you two show up at the rodeo and I’m forced to watch you two play house. Watch you parade her around like some prize you won. Kissing her in public, holding her hand, acting like some lovesick fool.” His lip curls. “It was pathetic.”
Kade smirks. Levi’s knuckles go white where his hands grip the armrests of his chair.
“You want to explain to me,” Roman says, voice dropping to something more dangerous, “why you thought you could marry this girl without my permission? Without even the courtesy of a conversation?”
This is the moment. The moment where I either sell the lie completely or everything falls apart.
“Because I knew you’d say no,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily. “And I wasn’t willing to lose her.”
Something flickers in Roman’s eyes, surprise, maybe, that I’m admitting it so plainly.
“Lose her.” He repeats the words like they taste foul. “You weren’t willing to lose the preacher’s daughter. Who I’ve never even seen you speak a word to.”
Saint makes a small sound, beside me.Fuck.The last thing I need is for more attention to be put on her. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Levi briefly closes his eyes, like he’s in pain.
“That’s right,” Roman says, his attention shifting to Saint. “Did my son tell you that? That he was supposed to kill you? That the only reason you’re sitting here breathing is because he defied me?”
“I know,” Saint says, and her voice is steadier than I expected. “He told me.”
“Did he also tell you that defying me in this family comes with consequences?” Roman stands, and the air in the room shifts, becomes charged with violence barely contained. “Did he explain what happens to people who think they can make their own decisions?”
“Dad.” My voice comes out harder than I intend. “This isn’t her fault. If you’re angry, be angry with me.”
