Dirty Boy by Nichole Rose

 

Chapter Eight

Ella

 

"Ella! Ella!"

I look up from the mess at my feet to find Emmitt running across the sand toward me, waving his arms in the arm to get my attention. I tilt my head back and groan up at the sky. If Dante is fake drowning to get my attention again, I'm killing him.

I don't have the energy to swim out to fake rescue him.

The entire beach is a mess today and it's ridiculously hot and humid. I can feel the sunburn baking into my skin, and I've got on literal layers of sunscreen. I've also got sand where it shouldn't be, and sticky gunk all over my hands from the discarded cups I've been picking up all day. It looks like someone threw a party on the beach last night.

"Wait for me!" Emmitt yells as if he's worried I'm going to run off and leave him behind. He's a sweet kid. When Dante is here, he follows him around. Watching them together makes me happy. Dante doesn't talk to many people. He mostly just mutters and then walks away. But he's so patient with Emmitt and all the other kids.

He spent half of yesterday teaching them how to play football. They were terrible at it, but he never complained. If he ever decides the NFL isn't what he wants, he'll make a great coach. Preferably older kids though. He may be patient, but he has terrible ideas, and he curses a lot.

It's been four days since I told him about my dad and what I did. We haven't talked about it much since. I'm not really sure what to say, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that Dante knows the truth. I don't think I realized just how much it was weighing on me until the weight was no longer there. For the first time all summer, I've been able to truly relax.

Tybee Island is a paradise I'm going to miss when it's time to go. I'm going to miss Nan and Chelsea just as much. They've all but adopted me into the family. Dante and I spend part of every day with Chelsea. She and I are going to be great friends, I know it. She's such a strong, courageous girl. Spending time with her makes me want to be brave too.

The brave part of me thinks I should go back to face my father and get it over with. The other part wants to stay right here with Dante and pretend my father exists in some other life. So far, that part is winning. Dante makes sure of it. He keeps me so busy I don't have a lot of time to worry or be afraid.

I've tried to bring it up a few times, but every time I do, he distracts me with kisses, or tells me we can worry about it later. He's practically living at Norah's family's beach house with me. Every night, I fall asleep in his arms after he makes love to me. I worried that Nan wouldn't approve, but when I tried to bring it up, she told me so long as we're being safe and we're happy, she's happy. Talking to her about birth control was a little awkward, but I love her so much!

It's easy to see why Dante is so close to his family. I haven't met his older sister or his mom yet, but if they are anything like Chelsea and Nan, I know I'll love them too. As weird as it makes me, I'm looking forward to meeting them. I love Dante more than I ever thought was possible. Thinking that I lost him the other day broke me.

Had he not come back, I'd probably still be sobbing on the couch. I'll never forget that he did come back though. Even when I didn't deserve it, he came back. I don't know where we'll be in five years or ten years or twenty years, but I know we'll be together. He's worth fighting for, and so is what we have together. We may be young, and people may think we're crazy, but I don't care. He's my future.

"What did Dante do this time?" I ask Emmitt when he finally reaches me. Even though I know it's going to be something completely ridiculous, I can't help but smile at the possibilities. I've had to kick him out of the water twice this week. He's sneaky and fast! He was already up to his waist before I realized he was in the water the day after it stormed.

"I haven't seen Dante today," Emmitt says, bending over with his hands on his knees like he's out of breath. He's so funny. He's not even breathing hard.

"Oh." I frown. My shift is almost over, and I haven't heard from him all day. That's not normal for him. He usually drops me off in the mornings and then goes running or works out for a few hours. Sometimes, he goes to see Chelsea before coming back to annoy me. Other times, he just randomly appears. Usually whenever anyone with a penis tries to talk to me about anything. I think he's stalking my beach.

"There's a man looking for you," Emmitt says.

"Someone is looking for me or just for a lifeguard?" I ask, my stomach twisting itself into knots.

"He was asking for Ella," Emmitt says.

As soon as he says it, my heart leaps into overdrive. My hands start shaking so I drop the plastic bag to the ground and suck in a deep breath, trying not to panic in front of Emmitt. He's just a little boy. I am scared though.

"I didn't tell him where you were at," Emmitt says, standing up straight and puffing his little chest out. "Dante said I shouldn't do that. He said I have to let you know when someone is looking for you, and that I have to let my dad know."

I spin around, scanning the beach but don't see anyone out of place. I don't see my father. Would he come for me himself or send someone to deal with me? It should probably be sad that I don't know how to answer that question…but I don't. Our relationship died right about the time I figured out he was a bad man. For a long time, we've just been two strangers inhabiting the same space. I spent most of my time with Norah, and I think he preferred it that way too.

"What did he look like?" I ask Emmitt.

"He was big like Dante. And maybe he had brown or black hair?" Emmitt scrunches his face up, thinking hard. "He didn't look happy. Should I go tell my dad now?"

"Yeah, buddy," I whisper. His description isn't particularly helpful. The man could be pretty much anyone. "Go tell your dad now."

He starts to run off and then stops and tilts his head to the side. "Dante says we have to keep you safe because you're treasure. You look like a girl to me, but maybe he's a pirate and that's why he's looking for you."

I smile at him before it wobbles on my face and falls.

He runs off across the sand, yelling for his dad who is wading in the water with a net in his hands, trying to haul in cannonball jellyfish. Unlike most jellyfish, they don't cause most people much pain. They're just harmless blobs of weird that sometimes wash up on shore along with the seaweed, algae, and little creatures that go where the ocean carries them. He's studying them. I didn't know Dante asked Alex and Emmitt to keep an eye on me, but I'm grateful to him for doing it.

I scrub my hands off on my bathing suit and reach into my fanny pack for my phone to call Dante. My heart is racing, my fight or flight instinct screaming at me to run and hide. But if my dad has found me, I'm not hiding. I'm not running anymore either.

Besides, this is probably the safest place I could be right about now. There are tourists and locals in groups all over the beach. He can't force me to go anywhere or do anything I don't want to do.

Dante's phone rings twice before sending me to voicemail. I hang up and start to dial again when I see Tyson headed down the beach toward me with a man I've never met before. Like Emmitt said, he's big, with close cropped hair and a scruffy beard. His t-shirt stretches across the muscles in his arms and chest. He's older, in his thirties or early forties. Whoever he is, he isn't my dad. The realization doesn't do much to settle my nerves.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Ella, this is Bryant Denver," Tyson says when they reach me.

"Bryant?" My brows furrow as the name strikes a familiar chord. "You're Dante's brother-in-law?"

"I am," he says, his gaze running over me. He's flipping gorgeous, but there's a hardness to him, like he's been through some things. Dante said he was a Navy SEAL for a long time, so I can just imagine the things he's seen and done in his life. He does some sort of security work in Nashville now. He's dark to Dante's light, but I'm not afraid of him. "You're Ella?"

"Yes. Is Dante okay? Did something happen? I just tried to call him, but he didn't answer," I say, tripping all over my words.

"He's okay, sweetheart," Bryant says, giving me a reassuring smile. Even though his eyes crinkle at the corners, the smile doesn't reflect in them. "He's running a little behind."

"Oh." Dante didn't say anything to me about Gia and Bryant coming to visit, so I'm not really sure why Bryant is here or what's going on. But I'm guessing whatever the reason, it's not good. Dante wouldn't have sent him without telling me unless there was a reason.

"I told him I'd keep an eye on you until he got here," Bryant says, giving me a look that says not to ask any questions right now.

I'm not sure why or what it means, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

"Is this all you have left to do?" Tyson asks, jerking his chin toward the trash littering the ground a few feet from the trash barrel no one ever uses.

"Yes, sir."

"Go ahead and I'll finish up here," he says.

"Are you sure? I can finish…or not," I murmur when he immediately shakes his head.

"Go ahead, Ella. I've got this," he says, his tone gentle.

My stomach starts churning again. Something is wrong, and I think Tyson knows at least a little bit about why Bryant is here now. I have a feeling I'm not going to like whatever happened.

"Thanks," I mumble to Tyson.

Bryant waits quietly at my side and then falls into step beside me when I turn to head toward North Beach. Dante always parks there since there isn't ever a space on Polk Street. I twist my fingers together as we walk, nervous as hell. My shoes sink into the sand with every step, but Bryant's boots just pack the surface down.

"Something happened, didn't it?" I ask him when we're far enough away from everyone to keep anyone from overhearing.

He hesitates.

"Please just tell me," I whisper.

He jerks his chin in a nod, and then studies my face for a long moment. "Dante cares a lot about you," he finally says. He has a gruff voice, but I like it. "He asked me to look into your father for him."

"He did?" I stop walking, surprised though I'm not sure why. Dante is a caretaker, a man of action. He doesn't just sit around and wait for things to happen. Unlike me, he's not a coward. He told me he was going to help me take care of the problem. I should have guessed he was looking into my dad when he didn't push me to talk.

"He did," Bryant confirms, squinting when the sun hits him right in the face. "I have to ask you a question, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

"Okay…"

"When you destroyed your father's drug supply, did you know he was under federal investigation?"

"Did I…?" I gape at him.

"You didn't know," Bryant says, reading the shock on my face.

"No, I didn't know. He's under investigation?"

Bryant waits until a couple with a toddler pass us before he says anything. "Yeah, he is. The FBI and the DEA have been trying to get a man inside your father's circle for a while now."

"I didn't know," I mumble. "Am I…am I in trouble?"

"No," Bryant says, his voice soft. "The feds don't believe you have anything to do with your father's drug business, but I had to ask."

It's my turn to study his expression, not understanding what he means. He doesn't flinch, instead letting me see the concern in his gaze. I see something else too, the same thing I see when Dante looks at me. Protectiveness.

"You're looking out for Dante," I say, immediately understanding. A gust of wind blows my hair into my face as we near North Beach. I push it out of the way, frowning. "You think I might cause trouble for him."

"Not intentionally, Ella. But I had to be sure."

"Why?"

"Because he's meeting with an FBI agent right now, and I like to be prepared for every possibility."

"He…what?" I say, a little too loudly.

Several people turn to look at us.

I grimace, clamping my mouth shut until we're out of earshot again.

"He's meeting with the FBI? Why? What's going on?" I ask, cutting across the sand to the stairs leading up to the parking lot.

"I think he should be the one to explain," Bryant says, suddenly tight-lipped.

"They're here for me," I whisper, fear rushing back in as we climb the stairs. My heart pounds, beating against my ribcage so loud, I'm sure he can probably hear it. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I suck in a deep breath, refusing to cry.

I never considered that destroying the drugs might cause the government to come looking for me. For most of my life, I've kept my dad's secret out of fear, but keeping it came at a price. I've always felt like my silence made me complicit in the things he did. When I saw the drugs, I was so angry at him. For being a criminal. For making me feel like one. I wanted to hurt him. But I didn't think destroying them would actually make me a criminal just like him.

"They're here to talk to you," Bryant says. "You aren't in trouble, sweetheart."

"Then why do they want to talk to me?"

We reach the parking lot before he can respond. I start to press the matter and then catch sight of Dante's truck on the far side of the lot and swallow my question. Dante's leaning up against the front of it, his phone in his hands. He sees us coming and shoves it into his pocket, standing upright.

Bryant and I walk side by side toward him, neither of us speaking. Sand pours from my shoes with every step. Dante lifts his chin in a nod to Bryant and then his gaze comes to me. Unlike usual, his eyes don't heat and darken when they settle on me. Even from halfway across the parking lot, I sense the tension radiating from him, the worry.

He holds his arms open for me.

That's all the invitation I need. I take off running, desperately needing his arms around me to hold me together. Whatever Bryant isn't saying is the real reason he's here…and that scares the hell out of me.

I collide with Dante, knocking him back a step.

"Baby girl," he says, his arms closing around me.

And even though I feel like I can't breathe through the fear, just being in his arms makes it a little bit better. In his arms, I'm invincible, so much stronger than I am on my own. He holds me tight, burying his face in my hair. His body is rigid with tension, but he relaxes slightly as soon as we're pressed together, and I realize he feels it too…like this is where we belong. Like this is home.

If he's my shield, I'm his too.

I let him hold me until I feel a little less like I'm going to burst apart at the seams, and then I pull back to look at him.

"What's going on, Dante?" I ask, placing my hand against the side of his jaw when he tries to avoid my gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I'll explain at home," he says.

And I want to demand answers here and now, but I don't. If my world is about to fall apart, I'd rather it not be in front of a beach full of people.

"Okay," I whisper.

"I'll follow you," Bryant mutters from behind me.

Dante jerks his chin in another nod and then helps bundle me into the truck. He sees the way my hands shake when I reach for the seatbelt. He grasps them in his, squeezing.

"Hey, look at me," he says.

I lock eyes with him, biting my lip as the urge to cry looms again. I think not knowing what's going on is worse than having the answers. No matter how bad they are, at least then I'll know…right?

"Everything is going to be okay," he says.

"Okay," I whisper, not doubting him. If there's a way to make it okay for me, he will. No matter what he has to do or give or sacrifice, he'll find a way. Because that's how much he loves me. That's how much he cares. I'd do the same for him. He's my future now, not my dad. Whatever happened, we'll find a way to deal with it together.

And somehow…somehow, that reminder gives me the strength I need to take a deep breath and nod. Somehow, everything is going to be okay.

 

 

I expect Dante to take me to Nan's house, but he takes me to Norah's beach house instead. Neither of us says much on the way. He holds my hand the entire time, bringing it to his lips every few minutes to brush a kiss across my knuckles. The drive isn't long, only ten minutes.

When we pull up, Bryant pulls in right behind us in his truck and climbs out.

"Wait for me," Dante reminds me before hopping out to circle around to my side. He stops at the back of the truck and says something to Bryant. Bryant says something in response and Dante shakes his head. I think he says something else because Bryant nods before reaching into his truck as if to get something.

Dante jogs around to help me out. I could get out by myself, but he always asks me to wait. I think he likes pulling me down into his arms. I like it too, especially when he makes sure to slide me down his body until my feet touch the ground.

He does that this time, and then brushes his lips across my forehead.

"Come on, baby girl," he says, moving me out of the way to close the door. He wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the front door. It might be my imagination, but he positions himself behind me like he's trying to protect my back.

I feel exposed in my bathing suit and the cover-up I put on in the truck.

"What about Bryant?" I ask, turning my head to see him standing beside his truck. He looks at me and smiles but doesn't make a move to follow us.

"He needs to make a call," Dante says, punching the code into the lock. A blast of cool air hits me in the face when he opens the door for me. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No," I say, kicking my shoes off right beside the door. Even though the water shoes have holes in them for water and sand to drain out, my feet are still covered in grains of sand and dirt. I desperately need a shower.

Dante looks down and chuckles. "I think your feet burned today."

He's right. My feet look like I have red polka dots on them where the holes were. "I didn't think to put sunscreen on them this morning. I was too busy trying to clean up the mess."

"Tourists," he grunts. "They always leave shit behind. I guess since they don't live here, they don't care if it washes out into the ocean or litters the beaches."

He's not wrong. Tourists can be awful selfish. I've only been at the job for a week, and I'm already tired of picking up after them. I make them do it themselves when I see them littering, but they usually just wait until I move on somewhere else to drop their crap everywhere. The locals are far more respectful. This is their home, and they help take care of it.

"What's going on, Dante? You were with the FBI today," I say, unable to stand the suspense another minute. I need to know before I drive myself crazy.

He blows out a sharp breath. "Let's go sit down and we'll talk."

I let him propel me toward the couch and then help me sit. He's so bossy sometimes. He always moves me where he wants me. When I complain, he just kisses me until I forget what I was even saying in the first place. I don't mind it very much, but I don't tell him that. It'll only make him even more impossible and bossy.

Instead of sitting with me, he hooks his foot around the matching ottoman and drags it in front of me. He sits there, reaching for my hands.

"How much did Bryant tell you?" he asks.

"He told me that my dad was under investigation and that you were meeting with the FBI," I say. "Um, he asked if I knew about the investigation before I destroyed the drugs. I didn't, Dante. I never even considered that it might get me in trouble. I just…reacted."

"I know, baby girl," he says, and I know he believes me. "I have to tell you something, but before I do, I want you to remember something."

"Okay," I whisper.

He's quiet for a moment, clearly searching for words.

"Just tell me."

"I want you to remember that none of this is your fault," he says, his voice firm. The same conviction reflects in his blue eyes. "You didn't start this ball rolling down the hill and you aren't responsible for a single fucking part of it."

"Of what?" I ask. "What's going on?"

"I asked Bryant to look into your dad, to see what he could shake loose," he says. "He knows people who know people. I wanted to know what we were dealing with."

"You could have told me."

"You had enough to worry about."

Even though I'm seriously freaking out, my heart flutters. He's so good to me. How did I ever think that I could just let him go at the end of summer?

"The drugs you destroyed weren't your dad's, Ella."

"They were in his basement."

"I mean, they weren't just his drugs," he says, squeezing my hands. "How much do you know about your dad's business?"

"Not much. Um, I heard him talking to someone in his office once when I was thirteen," I say, staring at our hands. His are so much darker than mine from all his time in the sun. Mine are a little pink. I don't tan very well. "They were talking about bringing in a shipment of drugs from South America. I'd heard him on the phone talking about things before then, but I guess I never really thought about what it meant until that day."

I probably wouldn't have that day either, but one of the seniors at my school had just gotten expelled for having drugs on campus. We had an entire assembly about drug abuse and how many people die every year because of addiction. It was the first time I realized that what my dad did truly hurt people.

"When I confronted him about it, he didn't deny it," I say. "He just said he did what he had to do and that it wasn't any of my concern. He told me if I told anyone, he'd go to prison, and I'd end up in foster care."

"Fucker," Dante mutters.

"I started spending a lot of time at my best friend's house after that. I just…I don't know. I felt like knowing about it made me guilty too. I should have told someone, but I didn't. I was afraid of what would happen to him and to me. I didn't want to go to foster care."

"This isn't on you, Ella." Dante's expression darkens, a growl rumbling in his chest.

"I know, but it still feels that way. Um, my dad and I were never super close, but things were different after that. When we were home together, we talked about school or the weather or mundane things. When he got calls or had visitors, he always took them to his office," I say. "I know he's in deep and has been for a long time. I know he keeps people quiet by blackmailing and ruining them."

"His partner does the same to him," Dante says, his voice soft.

"Because of what he does?"

"Bryant uncovered some rumors when he was digging around. Right before you were born, your dad killed a man in Knoxville, baby girl. A member of the Dixie Mafia. I'm guessing that's why he won't go to Tennessee."

"I didn't know," I whisper. I'm not sure which is worse…knowing my dad is a killer, or the fact that I'm not surprised. "I don't think that man is the only person my dad has killed."

"You're probably right. Have you ever heard the name Alexei Tarasov?"

"I don't think so."

"He's a lawyer like your dad. He's got ties to the Russian mafia. He helped your dad cover up the murder and has been blackmailing your dad with it since. The drugs belonged to him."

"Oh," I whisper, not sure what to say. Not sure how I feel. Maybe I should feel sorry for my dad, but I don't. He had a chance to do the right thing, but he didn't take it.

"Baby girl, you destroyed over three million dollars' worth of heroin."

"I…" I shake my head. "It seemed like so little, only a few pounds."

"I know. Hey. Come here," he says when I shiver. He stands and then picks me up before sitting back down with me in his lap. He brushes my hair away from my face and then presses his forehead to mine. "None of this is your fault."

"It feels like it."

"It isn't," he says. "Your father started this when he went to Tarasov for help covering up the murder. It was going to end here one way or another."

"End here? End where?" I demand, pulling back until I can see his face.

"Tarasov wants the three million dollars from your father."

"Oh."

"He doesn't have that kind of money to give him, Ella. He made some bad investments and lost most of what he had. He's nearly broke."

I stare at him for a moment, trying to process this. For most of my life, my dad has thrown money around like it was nothing. I guess I just assumed he was doing well financially. Appearances can be deceiving, I guess. Everything else about him is deceptive, I guess it makes sense his money is a lie too.

"If your father doesn't come up with the money, Tarasov will make an example of him. He'll come for you and your dad," he says, his voice gentle.

"Dante," I say. I think my heart stops.

"It's not your fault," he growls, shaking me gently. "Do you hear me, Ella Morgan?"

I bob my head, but I'm not sure I believe him. A…criminal? A gangster? A bad man wants to kill me and my dad because of what I did. For a long time, I thought I hated my dad. But I think I still love him too. Because I don't want him to die. And I don't want to die either.

"I'm scared," I whisper.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. I won't allow it."

"That's why the FBI wants to talk to me," I say, finally getting it. "You went to them, didn't you? You made a deal."

"I talked to them," he says carefully.

"What did they say? Please, tell me," I say when he doesn't tell me.

"They want to use you as witness," he says.

"If you talk, Tarasov will go to prison, Ella," Bryant says. I didn't even hear him come in, but he's standing a few feet away, watching us, his expression somber. "Potentially for the rest of his life."

"But so will your dad, baby girl," Dante says. "They were very clear about that."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I ask both of them, though I already know the answer. There is no choice. I place my hands on my stomach like that's going to stop the bile crawling up my throat.

"You do," Dante says.

"No, I don't. If I don't talk, Tarasov kills him because of what I did. Maybe he finds me and kills me too. How is that a choice, Dante?"

"No one is killing you," he growls with so much conviction, I almost believe he could stop it from happening. I know he'd try. And that would just put him in harm's way too.

"Bryant can't protect me forever," I say, my voice soft. That's why he's here. To help Dante protect me. He's a former SEAL. I'm guessing he probably knows fifty ways to break someone in half.

"Fuck," Dante curses, clenching his jaw. He knows I'm right. I don't have a choice here. That's really why he was with the FBI today. Trying to find a way out of this for me. But there isn't one. And I guess maybe I knew that all along.

Running didn't undo what I did or fix it. It just delayed the inevitable. One way or another, we were going to end up here anyway, facing the same choice. You don't just get to destroy three million dollars' worth of drugs and walk away from that like it never happened. I knew that, even if I didn't want to admit it.

I don't want to send my father to prison…but I don't want to spend the rest of my life running either. I don't want Dante to spend the rest of his life running with me. Because I know he will. He's ridiculous and crazy and he loves me. He'll choose me, even if it means giving up everything.

I won't let him do that. He has his mom and Chelsea and his career to think about. He's worked his entire life for this. I won't be the thing that holds him back. If the choice is between the ridiculous man who loves me and sending my father to prison, my choice is made.

My dad made his choice too, a long time ago. Maybe Tarasov blackmailed him to drag him deeper into a life of crime, but he started down that path on his own. He's prospered as much as Tarasov, more maybe. He's the freaking attorney general, not Tarasov.

"I'll do it," I whisper.

"Baby girl," Dante says…groans, really. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way."

"I'll do it," I say, looking at Bryant. Dante wants to find another choice because he loves me, because he doesn't want me to have to do this. But Bryant…well, Bryant wants the same thing I want. To protect Dante and his family.

"I'll let my contact know," he says. I see the respect in his eyes. And it might just be my imagination, but I think I see pride shining there too.

Dante waits until he leaves the room to scoop me up into his arms.

I lay my head against his shoulder, letting him hold me. Part of me wants to cry for my dad but my eyes are dry. My heart feels a little mangled though. Even if he is a bad man, he's still my dad. It still hurts to know just how deep he is and just how naïve I've been.

"What are you thinking?" Dante whispers, his lips against my forehead.

"I'm thinking…I guess I'm just thinking about how little I really knew my dad," I say. "I think I should be sad that I have to do this, but mostly I'm just…disappointed, maybe? I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to explain anything. You're allowed to feel however you feel."

"I know." I sigh. "I just want it to be over, Dante. I want to be able to stop looking over my shoulder and feeling guilty for keeping quiet about the things I know. For years, I've been waiting for the day his crimes finally caught up with him. I never expected I would have to be the one who shared his sins though."

"You don't have to do it," Dante reminds me.

"I want to do it," I say. "Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I'm ready to talk. I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting for the truth to come out. When I leave here, I want to leave that weight behind. I want to go to school and be in love and not feel like I have this big weight on my shoulders." I bite my lip. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Fuck no," Dante growls, tipping my face back until my eyes meet his. "There is nothing bad about you, Ella. Your father is responsible for this, not you. You never should have been put in this position."

"Promise me something," I blurt.

"Anything," he says without hesitation, stealing another little piece of my heart.

"Promise me that it won't change us or what we have."

"Baby girl," he whispers, his expression somehow soft and fierce at the same time. "Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you. Your dad could be Mussolini and it wouldn't change how much I love you. You're mine and that isn't going to change. Not today, or tomorrow, or twenty years from now. I love you, Ella Morgan."

Learning about my dad didn't make me cry, but somehow, this crazy, ridiculous, perfect man manages to reduce me to tears with the iron in his voice and the heat in his eyes. It burns through the icicles in my veins, evaporating them.

Even though I'm in tears, the same sense of peace, of rightness he always brings me settles over me like a warm blanket, and I know that we're going to be just fine. He won't accept anything less…and neither will I.