81

“It’s true?” Grandpa’s face turns red, his voice rising. “God fucking dammit, Gareth! He’s your father’s age!” “Actually,” I cut in, holding up a hand, “he’s thirty-three. Dad is forty-seven. So you’re way off the mark.” Grandpa’s shoulders stiffen, his jaw tightening. “That’s not the point here.” “Then what is the point? That I fell for someone who happens to be older?” “Yes!” Grandpa’s voice booms, his frustration palpable. “He is old, Gareth. Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve protected you from him.” “I didn’t need protecting!” My voice slices through the tension, sharp and biting. “I’m not some fragile doll. I can handle myself.” “Clearly,” Grandpa grits out, leaning forward. “Until you end up kidnapped and injured. You’re still a child⁠—” “I’m twenty-two!” “And he’s in his thirties!” “Can we not make this about the numbers?” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “You’re acting like I brought home someone on Social Security.” Grandpa’s lips twitch, betraying the faintest hint of