Truly Mine - (Mason & Sophie 1, Roommate Duet 3)

“How’s Michaela?” I ask, changing the subject. Even if I hate Hallie, I can’t treat my five-year-old sister poorly. She deserves better than either one of her parents.

“She’s good. Starting kindergarten in the fall. Can’t believe it,” he tells me, looking over the menu. I halfway wonder if he’ll force her to go to law school since I didn’t. It wouldn’t surprise me since they even named her after my father. It’s pretty disgusting, and I can only imagine how much pressure she’ll have on her to be the best at everything. I’ve lived that life without the result my father wanted. She’s his second chance.

The waiter returns and takes our order. My dad asks for another drink but makes it a double. It’s almost as if he has to be wasted to be around me. Good to know I make him just as miserable. When his freshly poured glass of bourbon is placed in front of him, he cuts straight to the chase.

“So what are your current plans now that the semester has ended?”

I suck in a deep breath. “Not sure yet. I’m waiting to see if I get another internship since I found the last one so beneficial. I learned a lot and was grateful for the opportunity to work so closely with people in the field.”

He nods. Doesn’t give me a congratulations or a “proud of you” or anything, not that I expect it. A zebra can’t change its stripes, and he won’t change his ways either.

“I can get you an internship at the morgue to be a coroner’s assistant. A position just came available yesterday, and it will look good on your resume. I’ll call when we leave here.”

I open my mouth, then close it, knowing I don’t have any other option at the moment. Though it’s not my first choice of places, death is an important part of a forensics investigator. I know it’ll be good experience, so I can’t complain about the opportunity.

“That’s settled then,” he says when I don’t offer any argument. I could explain how I don’t need him continuously butting into my life, but at the moment, I do need his help, though I’d never admit it out loud. Each time I walk into a new job, one he’s pulled strings to get me hired at, everyone instantly assumes I’m some privileged punk who doesn’t work hard. One would think being the DA’s son would make life easier, but the reality is, it doesn’t. I have to work ten times harder than someone who comes from a normal family to prove myself.

Our food finally arrives, an indication that this meeting is halfway over, and Dad talks about his new secretary. I wonder if he’s sleeping with her too, but I don’t say shit, allowing him to run his mouth and talk about her tight ass. And in a snap, he starts in on me. I’m almost shocked it took him this long.

“I honestly don’t know why you chose to go this route with your career. You would’ve made a great lawyer, Mason. You’ve got that no bullshit attitude, just like me. You could’ve climbed the ranks, worked on criminal trials, and really made a name for yourself.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” I tell him around a mouthful.

“It’s not too late for you. Many people go to law school after they work in their field for a few years.”

“It’s pretty much not gonna happen. After I get my master’s and a few more internships under my belt, I’ll have enough experience to start fieldwork. I’d rather help understand the ins and outs and whys of homicides than putting the bad guy behind bars with paperwork and words. The evidence is what’s important.”

He scoffs. “It’s just as important for justice to be served.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. Investigating crime scenes directly relates with the cases, just not in the way you want. You can’t keep pulling this shit. It’s exhausting for you to constantly bring this up each time we’re together. Just accept what I’m doing and be happy that I’m happy.”

He looks around the room to make sure no one is paying attention to our conversation because it’s always about appearances to him. I made sure to keep my voice low, not wanting to set him off, but I can tell with every passing minute that he’s growing more annoyed with me.

“It’s just a waste of your intelligence.”

“And that’s your opinion,” I rebut. “And we all know what those are like.”

I push the rest of my food away and place the napkin over my plate because I’m done talking about this. All I’ve ever wanted is his support or, at the very least, his acceptance, but I doubt I’ll ever get either. After everything that happened with Emma, he’s held my career path over me, and I think he’s forgotten why I wanted to become a forensics investigator in the first place. It doesn’t matter to him, though. His only concerned is that I’m not walking in his shadow, making the Holt name proud.