Page 58 of The Beast

She drops into the chair beside me, utterly unrepentant. “Don’t mind me. I love awkward emotional conversations over breakfast. Really sets the tone for the day.”

David snorts. “Your timing is impeccable as always.”

“It’s a gift.” She takes a long sip of coffee, eyeing us both over the rim. “For what it’s worth, pushing Gabe out of her mind isn’t going to cement you any closer to her heart. The heart wants what it wants, and all that poetic bullshit.”

I meet David’s eyes, relieved when he rolls his.

“Thanks for the input,” I say dryly.

She grins. Anytime. I’m like a fortune cookie. Full of unsolicited wisdom and occasionally stale.” She stands, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the table. “I’m gonna get more coffee. Back in a sec.”

“She’s right, you know,” David says as Harper disappears into the kitchen. “I’m not trying to push Gabriel out of your mind. I just...” He exhales. “I worry about you. What he’s doing to you. What he might do.”

“I can handle Gabriel.”

“Can you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re barely sleeping, barely eating, and every time someone mentions his name, you look like you’re about to shatter.”

I want to argue. I can’t.

“I do love you,” I say instead. “You know that, right?”

“Just not that way.”

I hold his gaze, letting the silence speak for me. An acknowledgment. An apology. Everything I can’t put into words because the words would be too cruel.

David nods slowly. “Yeah. I know.” He manages a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, though, right?”

“You’ll find someone.” The words feel inadequate. “Someone who deserves everything you have to give.”

“Sure.” He stabs some hash browns with his fork. “Or I’ll die alone, surrounded by cats.”

“You’re allergic to cats.”

“Then it’ll be a very short, sneezy death.”

Harper breaks the tension by popping out from the kitchen. “Well, hey. I’m available.”

David laughs—a real laugh this time. “Careful. I might take you up on that.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mercer.”

And just like that, the heaviness lifts. We’re all laughing, the three of us, and for one perfect moment, there’s no Gabriel, no bullshit gaming commission investigations, no father lurking in the shadows. Just friends enjoying the morning together.

Then the door bursts open.

My father storms in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. At least for a little while longer. His face is flushed, a vein pulsing at his temple. I recognize the signs immediately. I’ve seen this version of him my whole life. The barely contained rage. The way his hands clench at his sides. The cold fury in his eyes that promises pain for whoever caused his displeasure.

He’s beyond angry. He’s volcanic.

My body reacts before my mind catches up. Shoulders drawing in. Spine curving slightly. Making myself smaller, less of a target. Twenty-eight years of conditioning kicking in like muscle memory.

I force myself to straighten. To sit tall. To not give him that satisfaction.

“Out,” he snaps at David and Harper. “Both of you. Now.”

David is on his feet instantly, his body angling between my father and me. “I don’t think so.”

“I said out.” My father’s voice drops to something low and dangerous. “This is family business.”