Page 37 of Pour Decisions (Stryker Family #3)

JD

Dad: I need to speak with you, John David. I’m retiring and need to discuss the company with you

.

Dad texted me this at five in the morning, and needless to say, it woke me up completely.

Dad is full-on retiring? What could he possibly have to say to me?

I’ve been working with June for the past month, diving deep into the gin business and loving it.

Christmas passed, and so did New Year’s, which I spent with Katrina at my place.

I missed my family, besides Dad, but the lowkey holidays weren’t as touch as I thought they’d be. Dad wasn’t really on my mind.

But I still want to hear what he has to say.

I get out of bed and make coffee, then put together Katrina’s lunch on autopilot. She notices the moment she sees me.

“What happened?” she asks. I show her the text and her eyes widen. “Are you going to go meet with him?”

“Yeah. I need to know what he’s going to say.” I hand her coffee mug and lunch bag to her. “Today.”

She pulls me down and kisses me, her warm scent filling my nose.

“Text me after, okay?” She kisses my cheek. “Good luck.”

I see her off, then get dressed myself. Dad wants to meet in the office—a power move, maybe, but maybe not—so I get Bubba in the car and drive there.

Going back into the office is surreal. People look at me like I’m a ghost, though Bubba, of course, is so excited that he gets the zoomies and nearly takes four people out at the knee.

I head back to Dad’s office, my breathing tight. When was the last time I was in here? It’s so familiar, but it’s been over a month since I’ve seen it. Since I’ve seen him.

He’s at his desk, looking pale and tired. More human, almost. When I was younger, Dad was so imposing, but now I’m taller than him, and in better shape than he’s ever been in. I don’t know how to feel about that now.

“JD. Sit down,” Dad says.

I shut the door behind me and sit across from him. I’ve sat here countless times, and it’s always felt uneven. But this time, I feel like his equal. Dad leans back in his seat and takes a long sip of his water. The silence is almost breaking me, but I keep it.

“I…apologize,” he says, not meeting my eye.

Weirdly, if he’d looked me dead in the face and said it, I wouldn’t have believed him.

His shame at apologizing means deep down, he knows he did something fucked up.

“For the past and for how things were recently at the company. You’re your own man, and you’ve done good work.

We need you, and I don’t want to leave the company to anyone else but you when I step down in three months. ”

Hearing Dad actually apologize is surreal, but hearing him say he wants to leave the company to me feels like it’s happening in a dream. In the past, it would have boosted my ego to the stars, but now, I just feel a sense of a sense of relief.

“Did Mom put you up to this?” I ask.

He meets my eye, annoyed. “Partially. I’m in the doghouse with her, too.”

“As you should be.” I can’t believe he lied to Mom. She’s always been loyal to him, even though he’s an asshole.

“Anyway, the company needs you,” he says. “I realized I was being short sighted, and my doctor said I need to slow down sooner rather than later. I’d like to step down in three months, but I need to know if you’ll come back.”

I genuinely never thought he’d do this, so I don’t have my answers ready to go. I let myself gather my thoughts, and Dad waits patiently, absently drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

“I’ll do it with a few conditions,” I say. Dad raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t speak. “I’d like to acquire June, the company I’ve been talking to for a few months. I’ve been doing consulting work with them, and we were already discussing a possible buy out.”

“That gin company?” He wrinkles his nose.

“Yes. Their product is great, and I know it would be a good step forward.” My voice doesn’t waver. I don’t have much to lose anymore. I can survive without Stryker Liquors, even though that once felt impossible.

Dad presses his mouth into a line and folds his hands over his belly.

“What else?” he asks.

“I need you to apologize to Katrina. We’re going to get married at some point, and I need you to clear the air with her,” I say. I haven’t proposed or even planned it, but we both know it’s inevitable.

“Fine. I need to do that.”

“And you need to let me run the company without being wishy washy about retirement,” I say. “Once you’re out, you’re out. Like Grandpa was to you. You’ll be an adviser and nothing more.”

Dad’s nostrils flair a bit as he inhales, then exhales.

“That it?” he asks. I nod. “Deal.”

“Deal.” I extend my hand and he shakes it. “Three months, and I’m back in.”

“Three months and this place is yours.”