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Sturdy and unrelenting, Wynnter plants himself between us, securing me behind him as the click of my mother’s heels hitting the ground overcomes all other sound. It’s just thud, thud, thud, nothing.

“Step aside,” she states, livid.

“No,” Wynnter rumbles. Then he lifts his hand in a greeting. “Wynnter Winslow, Devina’s fiancé. We’ve not formally met before, bu—”

My mother laughs, the sound distorted and deformed in my blood-filled ears. “No, no. I remember you.” Coolly refined, she says, “You punched a hole in my front door.”

“I recall sending an apology letter that included the funds to fix it.”

My heartbeat stammers, shaking in my throat.

“You really think that made up for it?” My mother’s voice vibrates, then her heels hit the ground again. “Get away from my daughter.”

“Is there…a problem here?” Mr. Winslow steps in, and I’m suddenly surrounded. August at my left side, Leeann at my right, Wynnter before me, the hem of his coat clutched in my trembling hand. As my knuckles go white, I realize I don’t remember when I reached for him. My brain can’t grasp hold of anything else.

“Sir, this doesn’t concern you,” my mother states.

Tone stable, Mr. Winslow says, “You’re talking to my son and future daughter-in-law, so it might concern me. At least a little bit.”

Daring to peek past Wynnter’s broad form, I see my mother’s tight face pale. Our eyes meet, catch, then she sees August, and she recognizes August. Her wound up shoulders sag as she puts many, many things I have never told her together.

Unable to withstand her gaze, I glance behind her and find my father appealing to a client even as his eyes shift toward me every few seconds. Anger sparks in them, cruel promises igniting in the space between us.

I can’t breathe.

Moments pass with nothing but my heart thundering in my skull. Leeann’s soothing words and even August’s arms around me fade into a void.

Crystal clear and sharp as a knife, my mother cuts into the building darkness with her words. “My daughter absolutely is not going to marry your son.”

Alister says, “With all due respect, ma’am, that isn’t your choice to make.”

“I know I’m not perfect,” Wynnter supplies, “but I do love Devina.”

“So. What?” Black as oil, the words escape from gritted teeth. “You think love is important? You put a hole in my front door, young man. How do I know you won’t put one in my little girl someday?”

Wynnter’s shoulders tense, and it’s all so…

Horrible.

The facts exist, and neither side is wrong about the other.

Wynn punched a door when I broke his heart; my parents have kept me locked up most of my life, many times literally.

Both sides have valid reasons to be wary of the other. Both sides truly mean well and care about me.

But only one side listens. Only one side respects me as a grown woman. Only one side would let me break their heart without forcing me to pay for my mistake.

Wynnter was hurt that day, and he reacted poorly, and then he stepped back, thinking I’d made a decision about my future that didn’t include him. But, even though that hurt, he still respected it. Because it was mine. He respects me enough to let my decisions matter, even when they go against everything he wants.

My mother is not wrong. Just love isn’t important.

Respect is important, too.

“Wynn,” I croak.

Wynnter’s tense shoulders square, and he turns his back on my mother. Hopelessly, he cups my face, peering into my teary eyes with his broken ones. Viewing the concern rampant in them, I read the words he’s not saying. He’s pleading. Pleading for me to be okay. Pleading for me to not change my mind about him or let my mother sway me now.

Behind him, Mr. Winslow steps forward to make a case. “We can’t control our children at this age. December’s made choices, and whatever happens—good or bad—it’s her life now. Sometimes, as parents, all we’re allowed to do is watch.”