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Chapter Nineteen

Knova

The Venom’s road trip hasn’t even cleared TSA when my dad calls, and I already know I’m about to get ambushed with feelings. “Family dinner” is code for “intervention,” and I haven’t dodged parental judgment this hard since I lied about why I got kicked out of Girl Scouts.

“It’s been a minute,” he says. “We miss you.”

“I know. I miss you, too. I’ve just been busy.” It’s not a lie. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Viktor, working on our relationship, both in terms of communication and, you know, other stuff. I’ve seen my parents at games, but I haven’t made time to visit them. In my defense, they’ve been staying with their friends, so we haven’t had a great opportunity for family get-togethers.

Also, if I’m being honest, I’ve been avoiding them. Questions about my current living situation are inevitable, and my dad has never made a secret of his disdain for Viktor. He’s either going to pull the classic Cash Hale Judgy Dad move or try to stage a full-scale extraction mission to free me from the clutches of Viktor Abbott, Loverboy and Alleged Grass-Stomping Dumbass. And if he finds out about the fake wedding… oof.

In spite of all that, I miss my parents, I miss family dinners, and I have no good excuse to put this off any longer.

“See you at six?” I ask.

“Six is great. We love you. See you then.” Usually, when my dad falls back into his old habit of three-word sentences, it means I’m in trouble. Given that the last time we were together, I burned down a house, it makes sense that he’d be curt with me. Ah, well. Time to face the music.

When I pull up to the house just before six, he and Mom don’t seem angry. If anything, they’re in a jovial mood.

“Wait until you see our surprise!” Mom says.

I follow her around to the backyard. “Did they get the house fixed up?”

“They sure did,” Dad says. “Ranger helped us move back in. But look.” He points across the pool toward the pool house.

It looks the same as always, and for an addled second, I don’t understand what the big deal is. Then it clicks. “They rebuilt it already?” I ask.

“Good as new,” Mom says. “You can move back in anytime.”

“Oh.” I blink a few times and tighten my grip on Mom’s arm. “Yeah, great. Thank you.” I’m not sure my tone is convincing, but I’m more conflicted than expected. I should want to move back in, shouldn’t I? It’s only a matter of time before the annulment finally goes through. Though I have to wonder if that’s really what I want anymore.

Dad is giving me a funny look, so I pivot toward the house. “I’m starving!” I say, too loudly. “What’s for dinner?”

Dinner, as usual, is a team effort, including lamb-burgers grilled by my dad and a stunning Greek salad assembled by my mom. When I was kid, I don’t think I appreciated how much they work as a team, but they’re really good at it. One might even say that they’re #relationshipgoals.

I’m contributing by laying place settings at the picnic table when my phone vibrates. I’m surprised when Dante’s name pops up on the screen.

I dart off to hide behind the railing. Dad’s always had a firm “no phones at the table” rule, and even as an adult, I don’t want to get busted. “Hey,” I hiss into the receiver, “I can’t talk right now.”

“No? And here I thought you were all fired up to end this marriage.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m a little busy right now.”

“We’re all busy, Knova. This should only take a minute.”

From behind me, Dad calls, “Knova, no calls during dinner!”

He must be loud enough that Dante can hear, because he immediately changes his tune. “Never mind. We’ll talk some other time. Whenever it’s convenient for you. And your father isn’t around.”

Not for the first time, I wonder exactly how hard my dad punched his former boss. Dad might be the only person on Earth who Dante’s genuinely afraid of. “Sounds good,” I say in my sweetest voice. “Have a great day.” I end the call and stuff my phone back into my pocket, switching it to mute as I do.

Over dinner, we mostly talk about Mom’s new album. “It’s a collaboration,” she explains. “I’ll be working with different artists on each track. Every song stands on its own, but when you take them together, they tell a story.”

“Nobody listens to a whole album anymore,” I warn.

“That’s what I said,” Dad agrees.

Mom, who is generally unflappable, smiles knowingly over her wine glass. “So you say. But I’m not going to let that stop me from making the album I want to make.”

Dad gives her the sappiest smile I’ve ever seen. “That’s my girl.”

“When do I get to hear it?” I ask.

Dad’s smile fades. “When you move back in.”

“Right.” I stab at my salad, spearing a few chunks of cucumber and tomato. “About that.”

“I can give you a tour after dinner,” Mom offers. “There are a few upgrades that I think you’ll like, but you might want to paint a wall or two before you start moving your things back in.”

“Who cares about the walls?” Dad asks. “Hell, I’ll come over tonight and help you get started packing.”

My throat closes at the thought of Viktor coming home to an empty condo. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Dad slams his fork down on the table. “It’s time to come home, Knova,” he says, his voice sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re playing house with a dipshit who’s never deserved you.”

Boom. There it is. The truth bomb he’s been holding since Viktor was still a sperm in Noah’s ball sack, dropped like a sledgehammer on the picnic table.

“You were supposed to be staying with your brother, so I wouldn’t worry.” He stabs a finger at his chest. “Worried. Party of one.”

I sit back, startled by my dad’s vitriol. He’s usually pretty laid back, but as his infamous tussle with Dante proved, he has a temper. He’s never liked Viktor, but this seems a little extreme, even for him. “I lasted about ten minutes at Knight’s place. I heard something I can’t ever unhear.”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Dad grits out.

Mom lays a hand over Dad’s fist. “Cash. She’s an adult. She can make her own choices.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Dad’s brow furrows. “But between the pool house and this shit with the Abbott kid, I’m starting to wonder. Do you need to make an appointment with your therapist?”

I’m frozen in place. Mom, however, is not. She gets to her feet with all the grace of a queen. “Cash Hale, that is no way to talk to, or about, your daughter. I’m going inside.” She turns to me. “Knova, if you’d like to come in, we can eat at the table, and I can promise nobody will yell at you there.”

I appreciate the offer, but I shake my head. “I’m good. I’ll come inside in a bit.”

Mom sweeps away toward the house with her plate in one hand and the wine glass in the other. This isn’t standard behavior for my parents, and it occurs to me that they must have argued about this before. Mom’s always been more easygoing and wants everyone to get along. Dad’s like me. Stubborn and cranky. There’s a reason I was a daddy’s girl growing up—and why we butt heads so often.

Dad folds his hands in front of his face and sits there, taking deep breaths. It’s a cooler evening than I expected, and my windbreaker isn’t cutting it now that the sun’s setting. This frosty reception certainly isn’t helping, but although I’m already shivering, I refuse to break first.

I hate this. I hate that my parents are fighting about me, and about Viktor. I hate that Dad’s holding a stupid grudge… but then, so was I, until a couple of weeks ago.

Dad speaks first. “That was out of line. I’m sorry, Knova.”

I shrug one shoulder. “It was factually accurate.”

His sigh is bone deep. “You made a mistake with the pool house. I just don’t want to see you make another mistake with Viktor.”

I shift so that we’re facing each other head-on. “He’s a grown man, Dad. You’ve known him since he was little. You know his family. And it’s not like you thought I’d be here forever, right?”

“I know he had a drug problem back in middle school,” Dad growls. “Who knows what he’s into now.”

“A drug problem?” I let out an incredulous laugh. “Do you mean the time he took a confidence pill?” Once again, I can only marvel at my brother’s adolescent logic.

“Is that what they call it these days? He was taking pills as a child, Knova. His parents signed him up for community service the summer before high school. He’s always been a troublemaker. And maybe I’d let that slide—if he wasn’t dragging you into it. My only daughter deserves better than some boy who’s been skating the line since puberty and flashing that smile like it’s a hall pass.”

I can’t help but laugh. This is too absurd. “Dad, he went to the hospital for taking some sort of holistic ED supplement. He took a boner pill that Knight bought for him.”

Dad reels. “Wait, what?”

“Knight bought him an herbal supplement from the gas station. Confidence pills. These dumbass eighth-grade boys had no idea what they were for, which is the true story of how a fourteen-year-old ends up hospitalized for an erection.”

Dad stares at me as if I just told him that aliens walk among us and I was planning to invite one to dinner next time. “Did Viktor tell you that?”

I shake my head. “Knight told me.”

Dad drains his wine glass in silence. The man is visibly shooketh. “I never knew your brother was involved,” he says at last.

“He was following bro code or some shit. Viktor’s actually a really good guy, Dad.”

“Good enough to warrant attention from my only daughter?” Dad asks.

I nod, thinking back over the last few weeks. “He came to get me when I lost a patient and was too wrecked to drive. He gave me his bed and took the couch when I fled Knight’s condo after the… sexident. He makes me tea and spoils me. When I lost Mick’s dog tags, he rounded up the whole team to tear the bar apart and find them. He talked me through a PTSD episode.”

That last point in particular catches Dad’s attention. “Really? That’s something.”

The silence that follows is thick. That kind of care doesn’t come from obligation. It doesn’t come from friendship. It comes from intention. From love. From someone who shows up when it’s ugly and scary and hard.

That’s when I hit him with the kicker. “Plus, twelve years ago, Molly tried to punish him with community service time volunteering for the Special Olympics… and he’s still doing it.”

It’s dark enough that I can’t see Dad’s face clearly, but his profile is thoughtful. “I’m beginning to think you’re in love with Viktor.”

I consider what he said and how I’m feeling. What I have with Viktor isn’t as intense and thrilling as what I had with Mick, but so much of that relationship was built on surviving dangerous situations. I was younger then. I had less baggage, and less sense of self. I’ll never know if my relationship with Mick could have survived the real world, and comparing the two is pointless.

Viktor has been a part of my life for as long as I remember. I want him to continue to be part of it for as long as possible.

“Shit,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “I think I do.”

It’s not a lightning bolt. Not fireworks. It’s steadier than that. Warmer. Like finally spotting a lighthouse you didn’t know you were searching for.

Dad rises to his feet and holds out a hand to me. “We should go in and tell your mother that I’m letting this go. I am sorry about what I said earlier, Knova. It was out of line.”

I take his hand and let him pull me up. “We all make mistakes. I forgive you.”

He snorts. “Smartass.”

“Geezer,” I retort. “But, about my feelings for Viktor… could you please not tell Mom yet? I will. Soon. When I’m ready, and she’s not mad at you.”

“My lips are sealed, kiddo,” Dad promises.

I’m ready to be more open about where things stand between us, and I’m not scared of my feelings anymore. I’m scared of not saying them. Of missing my shot because I hesitated. Before I go announcing it to the world, though… Viktor deserves to hear it first.

Face-to-face. No jokes. No hedging.

Just the truth.