Heath shook his head, stepping into his Nikes. "Not tonight, but thanks. I've got somewhere to be in the morning and I have a ways to drive."
"Where?" Connor asked curiously. Heath glanced up at his brother.
"New York City."
Chapter Thirty-One
Drew sat outside Court Room # 27 on Monday morning in the New York City Criminal Court. She was dressed in her severe, crisp black skirt suit, low black heels, with her hair pulled back into a bun and no makeup. Her sweating hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and her feet pumped against the floor as nerves hummed inside her.
She glanced up, seeing her mother, father, sisters, brothers-in-law, and Uncle Gino standing before her. Her nieces and nephews were dressed like they were going to mass and were all uncharacteristically quiet as they held onto their mothers' hands. Bunz sat next to her, reaching out intermittently to pat her knee.
Her whole family was there; everyone who was important to her.
Almost everyone.
Drew locked eyes with her father and he gave her a slight nod, which she returned with a small smile. Things were different between them now, after their talk in her hotel room. She knew she hadn't been able to succinctly summarize for Heath in a text message what had happened, but it had changed things permanently between her and her father; solidified them.
She'd been fuming on the elevator ride up to the room, needing a few moments of silence to gather herself. She'd been grateful for the other patrons in the elevator to prevent her from losing her temper with her father. She had led him down the hall to her room and as soon as the door was shut, she'd lit into him.
"That was completely out of line, John!" she'd exclaimed, whirling to face him and putting her hands on her hips. "First of all, he had nothing to do with my story getting leaked, and second of all, he didn't deserve you talking to him like that! He's done nothing but be a good man to me and try to make sure I've been okay, and you –"
"Drew, save it," her father had ordered, folding his arms. "I got a phone call early this morning from some guy telling me that Heath had leaked the story to the press to get more attention for the fights. What did you expect me to do? Just sit back and let that happen? Let him get away with that? Hell, no!"
"What?" Drew had practically shrieked. "That's complete bullshit! He never did that! He would never do that to me! Who called you?"
"I-I don't know," her father had admitted. "I didn't catch his name. I just got so pissed off –"
Drew had sighed, digging her fingers into her temples. Between Carter and Marty Brown, there wasn't a great deal of variety as to who the culprit could be.
"Listen, Dad," she'd said finally. "Heath had nothing to do with the information that was leaked out. You had no right to come screaming up to Buffalo, curse him out, and yank me around like I'm a child. I promised him I would stay here and support him, and that's just what I'm going to do."
Her father had looked at her for a long time, his face expressionless, and Drew had felt tension coil in her stomach. She was a woman grown, this was true, but her father had an unfailing ability to unnerve her. Her, and her sisters. Although they were all in their thirties or nearing them, they could each be reduced to trembling, teary messes with a certain look or word from their father.
So it was with incredible shock that Drew had watched her father slowly lower himself to sit on the edge of her bed as his face crumpled into tears. All of the fight went out of her in a whoosh.
"John," she'd gasped.
He'd lifted a hand. "Drew, I'm sorry," he choked. "I just—I always need to make sure you're okay."
"Dad," she'd said softly, going to his side and kneeling on the floor. She grabbed for one of his large, weathered hands. "What made you think I wasn't? I know what you heard—but why didn't you just call me?"
"It's my job to protect you," her father had said as tears coursed down his face. "It's my job as your father and I failed you before. I'll never let it happen again." Drew's heart had wrenched at his words and she sat back on her heels, helpless to do anything but hold his hand. She'd never seen her father cry before and seeing it now broke her heart. "Everything I said to Heath—I could have, should have been sayin' to myself. I couldn't keep you safe back then. But I gotta do what I can to keep you safe now. You, your sisters. That's what a father is supposed to do." He'd buried his face in his free hand as his shoulders shook.
"Daddy," Drew had said, her voice cracking. "Dad, don't. It wasn't your fault."
"It was," her father had said, a choked sob escaping his throat. "It was. You're my little girl, and I couldn't protect you."