Free Fractured & Formidable: The Sacred Hearts MC Book V by A.J. Downey

turn on to whatever football game happened to be going on that
day. My father was a die-hard Patriot’s fan. I looked at her and she smiled
guiltily and captured her bottom lip between her teeth, shrugging her
shoulders. I smiled conspiratorially and went for my purse.
    “So I tried making Nanna’s white chocolate, pumpkin spice
filled maple leaves this time.” I murmured and brought out the tiny box my
mother peeked into the living room and I handed her one and took one myself. We
both popped them in our mouth at the same time. Her eyes rolled up in bliss and
she nodded rapidly.
    “You did it m’girl!” she whisper-cried. We knew better than
to disturb daddy’s football game.
    “Melinda!” he called. My mom quickly chewed and swallowed
the rest of her chocolate and called back.
    “Yes dear!?”
    “Bring me a root beer!” he called.
    “I’ve got it Daddy!” I called.
    He shouted back, “Is your name Melinda!?” I bit my lips
together and my mother sighed softly and gave me a sad smile. I nodded and
handed her a root beer from the fridge, the good kind, in the bottle. My mother
opened it and took it and a glass out to my dad.
    “I don’t want that!” he said irritably and my mother
returned with the glass.
    I swallowed, mouth dry, and we set to work fixing dinner. If
my dad knew about the chocolates before dinner… Holy crap. He would have gone off .
My father, in addition to being a pastor, had this antiquated notion about how
things should be in his home. No sweets before dinner, dinner always served by
six, homework done by seven and everyone in bed by eight. It’s how it had
always been. Exceptions rarely, if ever, made.
    My mother and I set to work in earnest fixing a decadent
Sunday dinner of glazed ham, biscuits, salad, green beans and mashed potatoes.
We always, always, ate at the dining room table. Television off. Table
must be set precisely one half hour before any food came out. Not a
thing out of place, the house immaculately kept to the point it looked as if it
came from a magazine spread.
    We all took our places at the table that would normally seat
six. My father at the head, my mother to his right and me to his left. We bowed
our heads and my father began the meal time prayer.
    “Dear Heavenly Father, we would like to give thanks this
evening for the food we are about to eat, for the health of our family and for
my congregation. Thank you Father, for gifting me with eloquence and allowing
me to speak your word to so many this morning,” he paused and I thought to
myself, here it comes and sure enough, “Father, I would ask that you
teach my willful daughter obedience, so that she may attract a proper husband,
and gift her with the intelligence to read and understand time, so that she may
not be late in the future to partake in your teachings. Amen.”
    I cringed inwardly and squashed my inner voice, which for
the moment sounded a lot like Everett screaming, Why don’t you just trade me
for six goats and a cow while you’re at it Dad!? I bit the inside of my
cheek and clenched my jaw firmly shut on the notion of saying any such thing to
my temperamental father and instead quietly said ‘amen’ and unfolded my napkin
in my lap.
    “Why were you late Autumn?” he asked. I swallowed hard and
rolled my lips together, smoothing them and suddenly wished for some lip balm.
Which was crazy, I had to answer him, my thoughts just didn’t want to. I
decided on the truth, which was rarely if ever a good idea, but I tried
valiantly to do as my father bid me, and he bid me constantly to be honest.
    “I slept through my alarm Daddy. I apologize, it won’t
happen again.” Short and sweet, I didn’t even try to argue my case. There was
no saying anything about long hours in the shop I shared with Everett, nothing
about staying hours after closing to perfect this or that recipe, or to make
sure there were enough chocolates to stock the display case for the upcoming
holidays. My daddy was an