What. The. Fuck.
He turned and stormed into the hall.
“Where are you going?” Polly called, the clicking sound of the stovetop turning off before footsteps followed.
“They want to talk? They can talk tome.” But he’d talk too.
He knew exactly what they planned to do. The same thing they always did—throw their money around to get what they wanted.
Outside, he stormed back to his truck. He’d just dropped behind the wheel when the passenger door opened and Polly slipped in.
“You’re not coming, Sunshine.”
“I sure as hell am.”
“Polly—”
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“Then we’re in this together. We’re a team. You and me.”
Shit…he liked that.
He started the truck and drove toward the inn. If he’d thought the drive would calm him, it didn’t. It did the opposite. It was like his body could feel the proximity to them. Like the muscles coiled in preparation for another conversation where they chose not to listen.
But this time—he was going tomakethem listen.
He parked in the same spot as when he’d come here to see Bronte.
“Room twenty-eight,” Polly said, when they were out of the truck.
He felt her eyes on him as they crossed the lot. He wasn’t sure if he was glad she was here or not.
On one hand, she didn’t need to see the messed-up version of family that he’d grown up with.
But on the other, he was ready to fight for her, and she’d have a front-row seat for that.
When he reached room twenty-eight, he pounded his fist against the wood. It didn’t take long for his mother to open the door.
Her brows shot up. “Joel. What are you—” She looked behind him at Polly. “Dear, you weren’t supposed to invite him.”
The familiar, condescending tone was like gas on the fire that was his anger.
“Can we come in?” he asked through gritted teeth.
His mother sighed and stepped back. Joel took Polly’s hand and moved into the room. His father stood near the small corner bar, while his mother closed the door and sat on the couch in front of the bed.
His father shot them one glance, giving nothing away. Typical Grant Dawson move. After all, he was a businessman first.
“Why are you here?” Joel asked, without sitting.
“We came to speak to Polly,” his father said without facing them. “Obviously, we weren’t clear enough.”
Joel opened his mouth to blast his father, but Polly touched his arm. “I understood perfectly, Mr. Dawson. But Joel and I are in a relationship, and I wasn’t comfortable seeing you both behind his back.”
His mother’s lip curled.
