Brett clenched his jaw. He wished he could do what Mr. Hamilton suggested. Cut them off. But every time he got close to denying them, he wondered what his parents would think of his refusal to support their only remaining family. Would they approve?
Or would they be disappointed in him?
It’s the only thing that wouldn’t let him ignore them.
The doubt.
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to defend himself or bother to make excuses for his family. He never did. They only wanted to make him look like a villain because they had to beg him for money now, instead of the other way around. Except he actually gave them money, instead of refusing. So he said nothing at all.
Mr. Hamilton pressed his lips together. “It’s a damn shame they act the way they do. At the very least, you’d think he would get a job so you wouldn’t have to support them anymore. What kind of man is all right with having his hand out all of the time?” Brett opened his mouth to give an answer as neutral as Switzerland, but Mr. Hamilton didn’t seem to actually want an answer. He jabbed a finger toward Brett, his gray hair flying from the force of his motions. “One with no self-respect. That’s who.”
“Raising me was their only job, and they did it,” Brett cited from memory. He had that line of reasoning shoved down his throat every time they called him to ask for money. “So now it’s my job to support them.”
“Raised you?” Mr. Hamilton snorted. “Is that what they did? Could’ve fooled me. It looked more like they took your money and left you behind in the dust.”
Brett smiled politely, but remained silent on the matter.
He wouldn’t sit here bitching and moaning about his past. The truth was, he didn’t give a damn. He’d been a kid. He’d grown up. And now he was a man.
End of story.
There were plenty of people who had it a lot worse than him, and he wouldn’t forget that. After all, he constantly saw the perfect example in the children’s eyes every time he volunteered at Saint Michael’s Orphanage. And it never ceased to haunt him.
At least he hadn’t ended up there.
With absolutely nothing.
And those children were the reason why he would never have any of his own. What if, God forbid, he did have a child, and he died? Who would care for the kid after he was gone? Another set of greedy, distant relatives? Or an orphanage?
Fuck no.
Not his kid.
He’d seen enough death to last him a lifetime.
When he glanced at the doorway again, the breath in his lungs literally choked him. Anna stood across the room next to Cole and Wyatt, and she looked absolutely gorgeous in her soft knit pink shirt, paired with tan khakis. He’d seen her in ball gowns, dresses, miniskirts—and last night, he’d even seen her in nothing at all.
This morning, she looked positively stunning.
His heart pounded in his head, drowning out everything else. She met his eyes from across the room, offering him a small smile. He grinned back, setting his hands on the arms of the chair to push himself to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go say good morning to your daughter.”
“Hold on a second.” Mr. Hamilton put a hand on Brett’s arm, stopping him from standing. “She’s always had a soft spot for you.”
Oh, shit.
Was Mr. Hamilton about to forbid him from pursuing Anna?
He could ignore her overprotective brothers, but he couldn’t betray the man who had taught him the proper way to throw a football. “I’ve always had the utmost respect for you and your family. If you don’t want me to—”
Mr. Hamilton laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that anything you may or may not feel for my daughter is one hundred percent fine by me, Brett. You’re a good boy. Always have been. I’d be proud to call you my son.”
So many emotions swirled through him at the approval from the older man that he couldn’t even move. Relief. Happiness. Respect. Admiration. Fright.
And so many, many more.
“I…I don’t know what to say, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Mr. Hamilton squeezed Brett’s arm. “I might be her father, and she might be my baby girl, but I’ve never been naive enough to think she would remain a child forever. If she’s going to have to grow up on me, I’d rather she do it with a fine man like you by her side.”
Brett clung to the arms of his chair. Was he actually getting approval from Mr. Hamilton? Permission to date Anna? He wouldn’t have ever thought it would be possible. That he’d be good enough to deserve that. “What makes you so sure I’m the right man for her?”