Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance(42)

“Whatever you want is fine,” he says. He always says that.

“Okay, we’ll see you later today,” I say. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Kylie.”

I hang up and put the phone down. “So, I guess we’re going to visit my dad together?”

Braxton smiles like it’s the best idea in the world. “Yes, we are.”

***


Braxton keeps his hand on the small of my back as we walk into the assisted living facility. It feels so odd for him to touch me like this in public—so familiar and intimate. Like we’re a couple. Which, we are, I guess, although I feel like I’m still not sure what’s happening between us. I want to believe he and I have something solid, but I have to remind myself who he is.

The woman at the front desk looks up and smiles. “Hi, Kylie,” she says. “Braxton, I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been absolutely fantastic, Chelsea,” he says. He grabs the pen and signs in. “How about you?”

She gives him a shy smile. “Oh, I’ve been fine. Henry should be upstairs in his apartment. You two have a nice visit.”

I look up at Braxton as we walk to the elevator. “How does she know you?”

“She’s usually here when I come by,” he says.

I stop in my tracks. He can’t be serious. “You visit my dad?”

“Yeah, I try to visit once every week or two,” he says. “I thought you knew that.”

I stare at him, my mouth open. “No, I didn’t. I guess, sometimes Dad says he’s seen you, but I didn’t know you visit him regularly.”

“Of course I do,” he says.

This man. I thought I knew Braxton, but I’m learning things I never would have guessed.

I follow him into the elevator, clutching a paper bag with Greek takeout. A tingle of adrenaline runs through my limbs. We get to the door and I pull out my key—I always let myself in so he doesn’t have to come to the door—and take a deep breath.

I knock before opening the door. “Hi, Dad,” I say as we walk in.

Dad is already at the table, a water bottle with a straw on his tray. My chest constricts. His once-dark hair is peppered with gray and, although lines crease his eyes and forehead, he doesn’t look old. But he slumps forward, and his hands are twisted. He smiles, but I can see the pain in his eyes.

“Hi, Kylie,” he says. “Hi, Braxton. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course, Mr. Winters,” Braxton says.

Dad looks back and forth between us. Braxton is still touching me on the back, but I’m not sure if Dad can see. What do I do now? Make an announcement?

Braxton drops his hand and takes the food. “Here, I’ll get plates.”

Dad watches us pass, and I follow Braxton into the kitchen. He starts dishing up the food. The scents of dill, paprika and lemon fill the air. He keeps his eyes on what he’s doing, and something about his body language makes me anxious. He glances up, his brow furrowed, his eyes tight. He looks so tense.

Holy shit. He’s nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Braxton nervous before.

I keep my voice low. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. For a second, the tension is gone from his face and I’m sure I imagined it. But he looks out through the kitchen doorway, and I see it flash across his features again.

We take our food to the table and I set Dad’s plate in front of him. Am I imagining things, or does he keep looking between me and Braxton? We all dig into our meals. Braxton’s leg brushing up against mine does nothing to alleviate my nervousness.

We make small talk for a few minutes before lapsing into silence while we eat. I finish about half of my dinner and start pushing the rest around my plate. I need to say something, but the longer the silence goes on the harder it is to speak up.

“You two are awfully quiet,” Dad says. “What were you up to this morning?”

“When you called?” Braxton asks. “We were having breakfast.”

I cough and almost drop my fork. “Sorry, tickle in my throat.” I take a drink of water to cover.

“Breakfast together?” Dad asks. My dad isn’t stupid. He stares at Braxton with one eyebrow raised.

Oh, no. He’s about to unleash the lawyer.

Braxton looks at me, and a wide smile crosses his face. He tucks my hair behind my ear, then picks up my hand and kisses the backs of my fingers.

My eyes widen. I stare at Braxton, afraid to look at my dad, my heart racing.

I can see Dad in the corner of my vision. He watches us for a long moment. “Is this new?”

“Yeah, Dad it is,” I say. I take my hand back from Braxton, suddenly self-conscious.

Dad’s eyes move back and forth between us a few more times. “I wasn’t sure I was going to live to see the day.”

“What?” I ask.

“Okay, Braxton,” Dad says, his lawyer voice coming back. He sets down his fork. “I thought I would have had this talk with you a long time ago, but there are a few things you need to know if you’re going to date my daughter.”

Braxton shifts slightly away from me.

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“Kylie,” Dad says, cutting me off. “First, there’s a place over in Lake City that makes her favorite blueberry pancakes.”