Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 48Willow

Chapter Forty-Eight

Willow

18 years old

I stare at the perfectly arranged plate of roast beef in front of me, fighting the urge to rearrange the neat rows of carrots into a giant "NO" across my dinner plate. The chandelier light glints off the polished silverware as my father clears his throat importantly.

"I have some exciting news," he announces, dabbing his mouth with a crisp white napkin. "I've made all the arrangements. You'll be attending the University of Pennsylvania next fall, and then it's straight on to Wharton for your MBA. Just like your old man." He beams, clearly expecting me to jump for joy at following in his fossil fuel-powered footsteps.

I take a deep breath, pushing down the frustration bubbling in my chest. Here we go again. "Actually, Dad, I've been thinking about some other options after graduation. Something that aligns better with my values."

The words tumble out in a rush, and I brace myself for the inevitable explosion. My father's bushy eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Values? What on earth are you talking about?"

I resist the urge to bang my head against the antique oak table. How many times have we had this conversation? At this point, I should just record myself and play it on a loop.

"Dad, I've told you before. I don't support the use of coal and fossil fuels. I want to explore alternative energy sources, maybe take some time after high school to really dig into environmental studies."

As I speak, I can feel my cheeks flush with passion. This is what lights me up, gets my heart racing. Not spreadsheets and profit margins, but the thought of a cleaner, greener future.

My father's face darkens like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Oh boy, here comes the tempest. I grip my fork tighter, ready to weather whatever comes next.

"Good grief," my father booms, his voice echoing off the mahogany-paneled walls. "You sound like one of those solar panel salesmen always pestering me at the office. Next thing I know, you'll be trying to convince me to slap some panels on the roof of Greene Energy!"

I can't help but roll my eyes. Classic Dad, always deflecting with humor when he doesn't want to have a serious conversation. But two can play at that game.

"Well, why not?" I shoot back, leaning forward. "Have you even considered it? Or are you too busy counting your coal profits to notice the world changing around you?"

Mom clears her throat, her eyes darting nervously between us. "Now, now," she says in that soothing voice she always uses when Dad and I start butting heads. "Let's all just take a deep breath and?—"

"Margaret, please," Dad cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This doesn't concern you."

And just like that, my simmering frustration boils over. "Don't talk to Mom like that!" I snap, pushing back from the table. "She's trying to help, which is more than I can say for you!"

Dad's face turns an alarming shade of red, like he's about to blow a gasket. "Now listen here, young lady?—"

But I'm done listening. I've heard it all before, and I'm sick of it. "No, you listen," I shout, my voice cracking with emotion. "I'm not going to UPenn or Wharton or any other school you went to. I'm definitely not following in your footsteps. This isn't the life I want!"

Before he can respond, I storm out of the dining room, taking the stairs two at a time. Tears blur my vision as I burst into my bedroom, yanking my duffel bag from the closet. I start shoving clothes in haphazardly, not even bothering to fold them.

I hear Mom's soft footsteps behind me, feel her gentle hand on my shoulder. "Sweetheart," she begins, her voice trembling slightly. "Can't we talk about this?"

I pause, my hand clutching a faded T-shirt from my last environmental protest. Part of me wants to turn and hug her, to let her comfort me like she used to when I was little. But I can't. I've made my decision.

"There's nothing to talk about, Mom," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I can't stay here anymore. I can't be who Dad wants me to be."

As I continue packing, I wonder if this is really it. Am I really about to walk away from everything I've ever known? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

I take a deep breath, turning to face Mom. Her eyes are glistening, and it breaks my heart a little. But I have to make her understand.

"Mom, I've tried. God knows I've tried to get Dad to see reason. To stop supporting industries that are literally killing our planet. But he won't listen. It's like he doesn't even care."

Mom sighs, perching on the edge of my bed. "Oh, honey. Your father does care. He cares about you, about all of us. He just... he wants to make sure we have enough."

I can't help but let out a bitter laugh at that. "Enough? Mom, look around!" I gesture wildly at my room, at the designer clothes spilling out of my closet, the latest tech gadgets on my desk. "We have way too much. We could give away half of everything and still be disgustingly wealthy."

The truth of my words hangs heavy in the air between us. Mom's shoulders slump a little, and I almost feel bad. Almost.

"Please." She reaches for my hand. "Don't go. We can work this out as a family."

I squeeze her hand, but shake my head. "I love you, Mom. But I can't stay. I'm going to crash at River's place for a while."

Mom's face tightens at the mention of River's name. "That boy? I don't like him. He's trouble."

"At least he's been more supportive than anyone in this family," I snap, immediately regretting my harsh tone. I soften, pulling Mom into a hug. "Don't try to stop me, okay? It won't work."

As I hold her, I can feel her trembling slightly. Part of me wants to give in, to stay and make things right. But a stronger part knows I have to do this. For myself, for the planet, for everything I believe in.

I just hope I'm making the right choice.

Mom's arms tighten around me, and I can feel her tears soaking into my shoulder. Great, now I'm getting all weepy too. So much for a dramatic exit.

"Promise me you'll call," she whispers, her voice cracking. "Just... let me know you're safe."

I pull back, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I'll try, Mom. But I can't make any promises. I might need to start over completely. Somewhere I'm not just 'that rich girl' or judged by Dad's... everything."

Mom's face crumples, and I feel like the world's biggest jerk. But I can't back down now. I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

"I love you," I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. Then, before I can change my mind, I turn and practically run out the door.

The cool night air hits me like a slap in the face as I hop on my bike. I pedal furiously, trying to outrun the guilt and uncertainty gnawing at my insides. The streets of our posh neighborhood blur past, all manicured lawns and gleaming SUVs. Everything I'm leaving behind.

By the time I reach River's apartment building many miles away, I'm a sweaty, panting mess. So much for making a good impression. I lock up my bike and trudge up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

I knock on River's door, my heart pounding. What if he turns me away? What if?—

The door swings open, and there's River, looking annoyingly put-together in ripped jeans and a faded Greenpeace T-shirt.

He raises an eyebrow. "What's up?"

I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a pathetic little sob. Real smooth.

River's expression softens slightly. "Hey, what's the matter?"

I take a shaky breath. "I, uh, kind of had a massive fight with my parents. Can I crash here for a bit?"

He hesitates for a second, and I'm sure he's going to say no. But then he sighs and steps aside. "Fine. Come on in."

As I follow him into the cramped apartment, I can't help but notice the slight annoyance in his voice. Great. I'm already overstaying my welcome, and I've been here for all of thirty seconds.

I slump onto River's threadbare couch, fiddling with a loose thread on my hemp skirt. "So, um, I was trying to tell my dad about exploring alternative energy sources instead of going to UPenn, and he just?—"

River cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Look, no offense, but I'm not really interested in the family drama of the ironically named Greene coal empire."

Ouch. That stings more than I want to admit. "But that's why I left," I protest, my voice embarrassingly whiny. "I can't stand being associated with all that environmental destruction anymore."

He just shrugs, his piercing green eyes unimpressed. I feel about two inches tall.

"I mean, I do feel bad about my mom," I mumble, more to myself than to River. "Maybe I should call her, just to let her know I'm okay?—"

"No." River's voice is sharp, cutting through my rambling. "You can't contact your mother, or anyone else from your old life. If you're really starting over, you need a clean break. New name, new identity,

the works."

My stomach does an uneasy flip. "But?—"

"No buts," he says firmly. "You want to be one of us? This is how it has to be."

I bite my lip, torn between the urge to argue and my desperate need to belong somewhere. In the end, my cowardice wins out. "Okay," I whisper. "So... what should my new name be?"