Page 82 of Last Resort

“Yes. Just a lot on my mind.” I glance over my shoulder to where the captain says something to a crew member about the jib, and then back to my dad.

“Your brothers will get over it. They always do.”

I nod, draw in a deep breath, and lie. “I’m sure they will.”

“We’re Sharpes.” He chuckles. “We fight hard, but we love deeper.”

“I know, Dad.” I reach out and pat his hand. “I know.”

“Do you see that spot over there?” he asks me, raising his hand with his glass in it toward the shores of Long Island.

“What about it?” His brows furrow behind his glasses, and I can visibly see the confusion take over his expression. “Dad?”

“Just beyond the reef, there.”

I glance at my dad and then back to the shoreline that clearly doesn’t have a reef—we’re nowhere near one. I struggle with whether to tell him that or let him keep talking. The last thing I want to do is upset him when he’s in the one place he loves more than the office.

“Yes, I see it,” I lie.

“Maybe one day you’ll fall in love and bring her to this place too, Callahan. Your mother would love that.”

I offer a reassuring smile and then shake my head. “I can’t imagine that happening any time soon, Dad.” There are too many places I still want to go. Things to do. Anything other than being in that office for hours on end. “Especially when I’m stuck in the office—”

“You’re not stuck there. You have the privilege of being there.” His sigh is soft and content. “The only days I feel like myself are when I’m sitting in that office, seeing all I’ve built. Other days, I can’t remember a thing. But that office, that place, you boys, keep me sane.”

That place keeps him sane.

And that right there? That’s why I just nodded as Ledger and Ford got years of resentment out in our fight earlier. That’s why I took the blame over the deal so that my father could still sit at the helm and hold on to whatever scraps of sanity he has left.

I’ve done a lot of wrong that he’s forgiven me for.

It’s the least I can do now to make sure he gets to hold tight a little longer to his joy, even if it means enduring disapproval from my brothers.

Even if we never recover.

“You’re right, Dad. It is a privilege.” I blink the tears away that well in my eyes, needing to hold on to this moment with him despite his mind clearly being in a different place. “Tell me more about your time here with Mom.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sutton

I may or may not have a hangover that has lasted longer than any I’ve had in some time. While I’m more than grateful for the Advil and water Callahan left on my nightstand for when I woke up, it didn’t do much to lessen the pounding in my head.

And maybe I’m nursing my symptoms more than I normally would by staying and working at the villa instead of the office because I’m too afraid to face Callahan after the things I said last night. While my memory may be fuzzy, I’m pretty sure I slung some words around that probably shouldn’t have been slung around.

If he wanted distance over talking about families and pasts and kissing, then he sure as hell is probably going to be moving out today—if he hasn’t already—to get as far away from me as possible.

I groan and press my fingers to my eyes.

I have to fix this.

I have to talk to him and let him know that it was the alcohol talking. That I’m a sappy, cheerful drunk. Maybe he’ll accept it for what it’s worth, and hopefully we can go back to whatever it is that we are.

Hopefully.

We just need to have sex and get it over with. Maybe that will help shift the focus back to that? Maybe if we both give in to the physical, we can . . . somehow get back to the us I probably screwed up last night.

Hiding here in the villa isn’t going to do any of that.