“That’s not what got you into trouble. You weren’t wearing pants that night either. Someone called the cops and said there was a vagrant disturbing the peace. You got a ticket for indecent exposure.”

“Bah. People are too sensitive. Can’t even live my life in my own home.”

There was no arguing with the man, so Simon got out of bed. “I’ll make us breakfast. Clothes, Dad.”

“You’re not wearing anything.”

Simon bent for the jeans he’d left on the floor and pulled them up. “There. Now you.”

“I don’t like pants.”

“No one likes pants. They’re just one of life’s fun burdens.” Simon headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower real quick, then I’ll feed you. And then since I’m up, I may as well get some paperwork done. Ed’s your nurse today.”

His dad went hands on hips. “Ed’s mean.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Last week he wouldn’t let me make a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Because last time you caught the pan on fire and set off the fire alarm.” Simon realized he was hands on hips now too, same as his dad. He dropped his hands to his sides.

His dad did a pretty decent eye roll. “Where’s Jodie? I want her today. She makes me cookies.”

“She’ll be back the day after tomorrow. And I make you cookies too.”

His dad huffed out a sigh. “You chintz on the chocolate chips.”

“You’re supposed to be cutting back on sugar and trans fats; your doctor said your diet was killing you.”

“My diet is killing me.”

“Your old diet.”

His dad sighed. “I miss sugar and trans fats.”

Simon put a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “And I’d miss you if they killed you.”

His dad sighed, but patted Simon on the head, like good boy. He had to reach up to do it too, but it was what he’d been doing for just about all of Simon’s life and it made Simon’s chest tighten and gave him a smile at the same time. Until his dad spoke again.

“And I thought you gave up your patients.”

Simon nodded. “A lot of them, yes.”

“So what’s the problem? Armstrong Properties is a great place to work.”

Simon reminded himself that his dad had worked himself up from a broke kid to a real estate mogul. It never occurred to him that his dreams weren’t Simon’s. “It is, Dad. You did good.”

“You could do good there too. That’s why I built the company, as a legacy to you.”

“I like being a physical therapist.”

“Yeah? And what has that ever got you? Do you own the clinic? No. Are you your own boss? No. Someone could take it away from you at any time.”

Yeah, and Simon was looking right at him. Not that it was his dad’s fault. But his dad thought of Armstrong Properties as his baby, and being a control freak, he’d asked Simon to take over running it himself until he could get back to work. It was a full-time job. They had thirty employees who handled everything from seeking new available real estate to marketing long- and short-term rentals, to collecting rent, to maintenance and repair, to responding to tenant issues. They were the best of the best in the area, his dad had seen to that.

Now it was all on Simon to keep his dad’s only source of income strong and profitable. His own life was taking a hit because of it. But every time he thought about walking away from the responsibility, he remembered his mom at the end of her cancer battle.

Promise me, baby, promise me you’ll be there for your dad no matter what.

Those had been her exact words, and they haunted him to this very day. Because he had promised. To his shame, it hadn’t happened. Instead he’d continued to steep himself in resentment over how his dad had been after his mom’s death. Demanding. Grumpy. Angry. Simon had gone into survival mode for middle and high school with the man, and then, needing out, he’d gone off to college in San Diego, six hours south of Wildstone. He’d stayed after graduation . . . in spite of his promise to his mom.

For months leading up to the stroke, Alison had been calling and texting that something was off, that Simon needed to come home.

He hadn’t.

He’d stayed gone until his dad’s first stroke.

Dale Armstrong was a different man now, milder for sure, but also . . . mellowed, even kind. Funny. People loved the guy. As for Simon . . . well, he’d worked his way through the built-up resentment. Mostly. But still feeling haunted by the promise he’d broken to his mom and the fact that he hadn’t been in Wildstone when his dad had suffered the strokes, he was doing his damnedest to make things right.

“Pants,” he said to his dad now. “Then kitchen.”

“You’re as mean as Ed.”

“Uh-huh,” Simon said and gestured between him and his dad. “Apple. Tree.”

His dad laughed gruffly.

A FEW HOURS later, Simon was at Armstrong Properties. The place was housed in a building just a few blocks off Commercial Row. Wildstone had been experiencing growth and was considered a hidden treasure off Highway 1, down a narrow two-lane highway between wineries and ranches.

The day was a long one. He had to give out a handful of eviction notices due to nonpayment of rents and attend three meetings that could have been emails. And one of their properties had a pipe burst. His dad would say that was the job. But the job was slowly sucking the soul out of Simon.

At the end of the day, he’d normally rush home to relieve his dad’s day nurse. But tonight Alison was on deck, thank God. So Simon changed into running gear and used up some pent-up energy to jog to Synergy PT Clinic. Three miles later, he entered the building, his tension drained. Drawing a deep breath, he headed straight to the juice bar in the reception area with a bone weariness that made Kelly laugh at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your prime?” she teased.

“I am in my prime.”

“Two years ago, when we were dating, maybe.”

He arched a brow. “Maybe?”

She chuckled. “Okay, so you were definitely in your prime while we were together. Thanks for giving me the best year of your life, blah blah. Now hush because I’ve got something to help you. Hold please.” Kelly turned to her workstation. She specialized in creating unique juice concoctions geared toward each individual patient’s needs. Simon had no idea how she did it, but her mysterious potions were better than any medicine.