Southern Storm (Southern 3)

“Savannah.” She laughs. “I’m your mother.”

“I think that is where you are wrong,” I tell her. “A mother protects her child. A mother lives for their child. A mother will put her life before her child, each and every single time and not just when it’s convenient for them.”

“I gave you everything, you ungrateful little shit!” she shouts. “Everything. I had to move away because you got yourself knocked up, and instead of doing the right thing, you had the bastard.”

“Goodbye, Mother,” I say, hanging the phone up. It rings again, and this time, I decline the call. The sob rips through me, and Beau leans over and grabs me into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”

I bury my face in his chest as his hands rub my back. “You were right,” I finally say between sobs. “You were all right.” I lean out of his arms, and I look at him. “It was your father.”

Chapter Nineteen

Beau

I’m not sure I hear her when she says the words between her sobs. “What did you say?”

I ask her again.

“It was him.” She gets up now and has to pace, something she does when she’s nervous. “I never thought he would do something like that.” She shakes her hands. “Ethan.” A sob rips through her, and she bends, putting her hands on her knees. “Me, okay, but him?”

My blood is boiling. “I need you to go upstairs and stay with Ethan.” When I get up, she looks at me. “I need to go speak with my father.” I walk over to her. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t want you to go,” she says, and I’ve always wanted to hear her say those words. “Don’t go.”

“It’s going to be okay,” I say. “I promise you that I’m going to be right back.”

“But …” She clings to my arms. “What if he …?”

“I promise you that I am coming right back,” I say, and she just nods. I want to kiss her before I leave. But I don’t want to rush this kiss. No, I want all the time in the world to kiss her for however long she lets me. Hopefully forever.

I turn and walk out of the house, calling Jacob. “Hey.” He answers on the second ring. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I say, getting into the car and wanting to punch the steering wheel. “I’m going to talk to my father. Savannah thinks it was him.”

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“Do you think you can find proof it was him?” I ask him, and he huffs.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, “but I’ve been trying to pin something on your father for the past fucking six years. His hands are always squeaky clean.”

“Fuck.” I shake my head. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea going over there when you’re this heated?” He’s always the voice of reason.

“Probably not,” I say, making my way over to my parents’ house. “But I need to tell them that I’m marrying Savannah.”

He laughs now. “She finally caved.”

I breath out now. “Yeah.” My stomach burns, thinking that to her this is her nightmare.

“I’m here.” I look over, seeing the lights on in my parents’ house, and forget that my mother was having a dinner. “I’ll call you later.”

“I’ll be on standby,” he says and hangs up. I walk up the steps and open the door, hearing the sound of music from somewhere in the house along with people chattering. I walk to the dining room, and it’s no surprise that there must be forty people here. My mother is always one for hosting. She looks up and sees me, her face lighting up with a smile.

“Beau,” she says, getting up from her place and walking over to me. “Glad you could make it.” She kisses my cheeks and whispers, “You couldn’t dress better?”

“I’m not here for dinner,” I say, looking around the room and smiling and nodding at whoever is looking at me. I spot my father sitting at the head of the table. He leans back in his chair, his linen suit perfectly tailored to him. I look a lot like him, but that is where it stops. “Father,” I say, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

“Now isn’t a good time, son.” He smirks. “We have company.”

I look at him. “I have no problem saying what I want to say in front of everyone if that is what you want.” He must see that I’m livid, and he just laughs.

“It’s hard passing the reins over.” He puts his linen napkin from his lap on the table. “If y’all will excuse me, my son needs me. He’s a chip off the old block always working to make the town perfect.”

“Really, Beau?” my mother says between clenched teeth, a smile on her face. “You are ruining my dinner.”