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No, I hadn’t.

Because of conversations like this.

“I didn’t see you complaining when she put a plate full of pancakes in front of you.”

“That’s because I’m not one to turn down what a pretty girl is offering.”

“And that’s why Mom is always on your ass.”

“No,” he snaps. “Your mother is always on my ass because she’s a bitch and because she’s spent the last two decades busting her ass to try to find some balance between you boys. And newsflash, Ace, there’s never any balance because you can’t stand to share the spotlight.”

“That’s fucked up.”

My shoulders tense and my gaze whips around behind me to see Violet clad in her robe, her hair down and loose.

But her expression is fierce.

“That is so totally fucked up.”

“Stay out of this, darling,” my dad says, the condescension in his tone so heavy, it’s a wonder it doesn’t drag us all down to the floor.

Vi laughs, but it’s nowhere near amused. “Oh, you don’t want the princess your son is fucking to speak now?”

There’s maybe the slightest flicker of remorse in my dad’s expression, but it doesn’t linger long.

Nope.

Instead, the asshole ramps up.

He opens his mouth⁠—

“Vi,” I say. “I got this. Go back to our room.”

Instead of listening, she presses herself to my side and says, with fury the like of which I’ve never heard, “Your son has no bearing on your relationship with your wife.”

“It does when I have a wife like that”—a jerk of his chin at her—“and a son like that”—at me—“It does when Ace being Ace means that we couldn’t have a normal weekend, a normal vacation, a normal fucking meal. Everything, fucking everything revolved around this boy. Always has. Always will. And there’s no room for the rest of us.”

“Wow.”

My dad’s brows fly up. “Wow?”

Violet shakes her head. “Yup. Wow. I didn’t think your special brand of Ambrose Assholery came from something so completely unreasonable as to be jealous of your own son!” She finishes the last on a shout.

“He took my wife away from me!” my dad shouts back.

I drag her behind me when my dad takes a step toward us, except Violet executes a move that would have been impressive on the ice, but is even more impressive off it, and is suddenly in front of me again, her chin up, her shoulders straight.

Protecting me.

Prepared to battle the world.

For me.

Fuck, if I didn’t love her already, right then I would have fallen.

“You pushed your wife away, Steve,” she says—yes, says—her temper ratcheted back, her calm, icy veneer back in place. “If you showed Joan a modicum of attention that isn’t screaming at her about you being able to have another beer then I guarantee she would be a different person with you instead of the angry, hurt wife who’s doing anything to get you to pay attention to her.”

My dad rocks back slightly.