In Your Corner
Page 13

 Sarah Castille

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My father harrumphs. “Mr. Donovan, we’re in the middle of a private family discussion. I suggest you visit another time.”
Jake’s shoulders stiffen. “Private? Everyone in the hallway could hear you. Not only that, but she’s hurt. Is this really the best time for a verbal assault?”
Emotion wells up in my chest at his unexpected support at the only time in my life I haven’t had the will or energy to defend myself.
“Jake…it’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“It’s not okay to me.” He looks back over his shoulder and catches me with his breathtaking gaze, at once furious and concerned.
The pulse in my father’s jaw throbs double-time and the blood drains from his face. Instinctively, my hands curl into the sheets. I know that look. And I know what comes next. I am suddenly so profoundly grateful for Jake’s intervention, my eyes prickle with tears.
“She’s my daughter and I’ll speak to her when, where, and how I choose,” my father barks.
“She’s my friend.” Jake closes the distance between them in two quick strides, his body quivering as if he wants to punch someone. “And I suggest you consider another time and place.”
Two inches taller than my father, heavily muscled, and many years younger, Jake in a rage is intimidating even to me. But my father didn’t get to be a partner at one of the top law firms in the city by backing down. Ever.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Do I need to threaten you?” Jake takes a step closer to my father and his voice drops to a low, warning growl.
“You’re out of line, young man.” My father’s lips curl in a snarl.
He’s right. Jake is out of line. But then, Jake doesn’t care about lines or rules or convention. His cavalier attitude was one of the things I liked best about him. A total disregard for the things that defined my life.
“Stan.” My mother wraps an arm around my father’s bicep and tugs. “It’s time to go. We can have a family discussion later. Let her visit with her friend.”
But my father doesn’t move. Instead, he and Jake face off. Eyes locked, chests heaving, fists clenched.
“She’s no family of mine,” my father mutters after a few tense moments. “There’s only so much disappointment a father can take. As of this moment, I never had a daughter.” With a final harrumph, my father breaks the stalemate and storms out the door. Mom takes a step after him, pauses, and then pats my foot under the covers.
“I talked to the doctor and he says it was just a minor concussion and a lot of bruising and you should be out of here tomorrow. If you need to come home…” Her gaze flicks to my father’s departing back and then to me. “I suppose we could hire someone…we’re both in trial…”
“I’m good, Mom.” I force the words out. “I’ll be fine.”
She gives an absent nod and looks up at a glowering Jake. “You almost had a lawsuit on your hands. You should be more careful. If he finds out who you are, he may press charges for threats.”
“Jake Donovan, Chairman of Donovan & Sons.” Jake pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to her. “Tell him to do his worst.”
I stifle a laugh. In his jeans and leathers, his hair just brushing his collar, and the faintest five o’clock shadow on his jaw, he looks like a badass biker and not a corporate chairman. Still, he has courage to throw himself on the mercy of one of the city’s top litigators.
Mom likes brass. Her mouth twitches slightly. “Well then, Mr. Donovan, maybe I’ll see you again, although I hope it’s under better circumstances.” She walks toward the door, her Louboutin heels clicking across the tiles.
“Aren’t you going to kiss your daughter good-bye?” Jake settles himself in the chair beside my bed, as if he’s here for a long stay.
Mom looks over her shoulder and gives him a tight smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Donovan, but we aren’t a kissing kind of family.”
“Nice parents,” Jake says after she leaves the room. “No wonder you never introduced us.”
I tense at his words. “Mom’s okay. She’s just always been preoccupied with her work, and my dad…well, he always wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. They’re both high achievers with very high standards, and they expected the same from me. Unfortunately, I often disappointed them, especially with my choice of boyfriends.”
“I thought I had a rough time growing up.” Jakes shakes his head. “I was a bit of a wild kid and my parents blamed me for everything that went wrong in the family. But they weren’t cold people.”
Touché.
He tilts his head to the side and studies me so intently I wonder for a moment if I said the word out loud.
“Being a disappointment is hard enough.” His face softens and he tucks an errant curl behind my ear. “But without the affection to balance it out…it must have been really hard.”
Disconcerted by his sympathy, I lean back against the pillow and shrug. “I survived. I learned how to be independent and self-reliant. That way no one can let me down. Not so sure how I’ll get back in their good graces after this fiasco.”
Jake gives a bitter laugh. “Sometimes no matter how hard you try, it isn’t enough.”
A smile ghosts my lips. “I know that feeling well.”
Jake’s eyes meet mine and something changes in the air between us. Whether it’s the realization that we actually have something in common or a mutual sympathy at being unable to meet parental expectations, for a brief moment we are bonded by a force other than the attraction of opposites.