Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(15)

Which is why I’m so surprised my papa actually bought something for me this year.

“Well, open it,” he says, nodding at me.

I hastily unwrap the present and open the box.

“I know I’ve let you down a couple of times, so I wanted to do you good,” he says. “Since it’s your eighteenth birthday and all.” He clears his throat as I pull out a thick, ringed pendant with a feather attached at the end. This … I remember this …

“Ma …” I mumble.

She always wore it around her neck. Every single day.

“It was your ma’s wish that it’d be passed along to you when you were eighteen.”

“Papa…” Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. “You didn’t have to.” I hug him tight. “Thank you.”

“You don’t think it’s strange?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” I say as I put it around my neck. “How does it look?”

I don’t think I’ve seen him smile this brightly in a long time. “Perfect. You remind me so much of your ma.”

We hug again, barely able to keep it together. Then he pats me on the back, and says, “Well, hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Do you have any plans? I know you kids are always keen to go out drinking.” He puts a finger against my chest. “That’s fine by me, but make sure you’re sober when you drive, okay?”

“Papa, of course.” I tsk. “You know me.”

“Exactly,” he says, making me laugh. “So don’t overdo it.”

He thinks I’m gonna party hard, but I’m not that kinda guy. I prefer to hang out with a few friends—more specifically, Dixie and Hanson—and that’s it. I don’t want or need to invite all my classmates for my birthday to feel special.

As he turns around, he stops, and adds, “Oh, and remember, don’t go hanging out with any of the Burrells.”

I frown. “What? Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

I guess he still hasn’t seen me with Dixie. Then again, I haven’t taken her home either. Our families don’t exactly get along, and I don’t wanna make things difficult. I’d much rather keep the peace … and her. But if my papa is going to be difficult about this, I have to clear things up right now by putting it out in the open.

“I can’t do that, sorry,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

He turns around. It’s his turn to frown now. “There are plenty of other kids you can hang out with. You have friends, don’t you? What about that Hanson guy?”

“Papa, Dixie Burrell …” I mumble. “She’s my girlfriend.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

I rub my lips and sigh. “I was going to tell you eventually.”

“When? Next year?” He raises his voice.

“No, but … soon.”

He looks like I told him I am moving out. “No.”

I grimace. “What do you mean no?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not happening.”

He thinks he has a say in this? It’s my life, and I can do what I want. I fold my arms, trying to maintain my cool. “It’s not up to you.”

“You’re my son.” He chucks the box he gave me aside. “Goddammit.”

Fuck, he never swears like that. “Papa…”

“No,” he says, pointing his finger at me. “Don’t do this, Brandon. I told you not to hang out with those Burrells, and now you’re dating one behind my back? You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“No, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say with a sarcastic tone. “Explain it to me, please, by all means.” I know I sound pissed, but that’s because I am. He has no right to decide for me. Besides, he doesn’t even know her. “Dixie is a nice girl. She doesn’t deserve all this hate.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that family,” he responds.

“Oh, and you do?” I raise a brow.

He’s silent for a few seconds. “Don’t even try,” he says through gritted teeth after a few seconds.

He always shuts me out. As if I can’t tell he’s hiding something. “Why are you so upset with me for finally finding a girl? Finally having someone in my life I can trust and who’s there for me?”

“I’m here for you.” He marches toward me. “You can trust me, and I’m telling you that girl is not good for you.”

What the fuck? Why would he even say that? “You don’t know her like I do.”

He raises a hand. “I don’t need to, and I don’t want to.”

I ball my fist. “How can you say that?”

“I’m done with this conversation, Brandon. I told you it’s not happening, end of discussion.”

“What?” I say through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“Brandon. Quit this nonsense right now.” He doesn’t even look at me as he judges me. Us. My girl.

Fuck no. I’m not letting her slip through my fingers because of some judgmental crap between my papa and the Burrells. Their issues aren’t my problem.