No One Owns Me

Chapter 16 — A Father’s Warning

The ride back feels softer, slower. My mind keeps drifting back to the cliff edge, to the warmth of Ward’s shoulder under my head, to the quiet, perfect press of his lips against mine. It was nothing grand, nothing loud—but it felt like something I’d waited my whole life to feel.

When we pull into the clubhouse yard, the place is lit up like a beacon. The heavy oak doors stand wide open. And Duncan is framed there, his posture rigid, his face thunderous.

My stomach drops. Oh s**t.

Ward follows my gaze. “That… does not look good.”

“No.” I swing off the bike and hand him the helmet. “Stay here. Let me talk to him.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

I walk inside. Duncan’s eyes lock on me instantly, sharp and burning with worry.

“Where the hell have you been?”

I fold my arms. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“Just out.”

“You left without a word. Without telling anyone.” His voice rises, sharp with frustration. “You vanished for hours, Casey.”

“I wasn’t vanishing. I was with Ward.”

“I know that.” He steps closer, voice cracking with tension. “You could have been followed. Taken. Hurt. Any of it.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“That isn’t the point!”

The room falls dead silent. I stare at him, breath caught. He drags a hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm, then his gaze shifts past me to where Ward has stopped just inside the door.

His expression hardens. “You.”

Ward straightens. “Me.”

“You took her.”

“I asked him to,” I cut in quickly.

“I don’t care.” Duncan steps toward him, his voice low and fierce. “You do not take my daughter anywhere without letting me know. Ever.”

Ward’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “Understood.”

“No, you don’t.” Duncan jabs a finger toward me. “She is seventeen. Barely more than a kid. You act like it.”

“I know how old she is.”

“Then act like you know what that means.”

I step between them before things get worse. “Dad—stop.”

“Casey, step aside.” He looks straight at Ward. “Stay away from her.”

“This isn’t your call to make,” I say, anger flaring hot.

“It is when you’re still under my protection.”

“I’m not yours to keep.”

His face softens, just for a heartbeat, and I see the exhaustion beneath the rage. “I know I don’t own you. But I am your father.” His voice breaks. “I spent eleven years wondering if you were alive. Eleven years hunting for any trace of you. I just got you back. I will not lose you to something reckless.”

Ward breathes out slow. “I would never hurt her.”

“You can’t promise that.” Duncan’s voice is quieter now, raw. “Not when you’re a grown man, and she’s still figuring out who she is.”

Ward goes still. I can see the arguments rising in his eyes—I’d never hurt her, I see her, I’ve waited for her—but he pushes them all aside. He nods once, sharp and sure.

“You’re right.”

“Ward—” I start.

He gives me a tiny shake of his head. “No. He’s right. I understand.” He looks back at Duncan. “Casey matters more to me than anything. But I won’t push her. I won’t rush her. And I won’t cross a line.”

Duncan stares at him for a long moment, searching for any lie. When he finds none, he nods shortly.

Then he turns to me. “Go upstairs. Please.”

“Seriously? I’m not a child you can send to your room.”

“I know.” He sounds so tired. “Please, Casey. Just… give me a minute.”

That quiet plea cuts through my anger. I see it now, plain as day: this isn’t about control. It’s about fear. Fear of losing the only thing he’s spent his whole life fighting to find.

“Fine.” I turn toward the stairs, then glance back. Ward gives me the faintest, warmest smile—I’m okay. Don’t worry.

I don’t go all the way up. I pause on the landing, hidden in shadow, listening.

Duncan’s voice drops low. “You’ll back off. Give her space. Let her find her own way.”

“I will.”

“Not because I told you to. Because it’s what she needs.” Duncan pauses. “She’s got enough pressure on her. Enough people telling her who to be. If you care about her… let her choose you. When she’s ready.”

Ward’s answer is soft, steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

I close my eyes. All this time I thought caring meant rushing in, fighting hard, holding on tight. But Ward isn’t fighting for himself. He’s choosing what’s best for me, even if it hurts.

Somehow, that means more than anything he could have said.

I turn and walk quietly to my room. For the first time, I don’t feel like I have to choose between my father and the boy who sees me. I just have to be me. And they’ll both wait.