“Yeah. My dad,” he snapped. Fury rolled off him so thick I could practically touch it. “We were kids, and my dad was a good man. You think he’d pull that crap? After he welcomed you into our home?”
“And maybe that was why he was so nice to me. Don’t you see how that could make sense to me at the time?”
He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy on my cheeks. His mouth was inches from mine, so close I could see tiny stress lines dance out from the edges of his full, parted lips.
“No, Blue. I figured you knew I loved you. I figure you should have known I wouldn’t have ever done that crap to you in the first place. Hell.” He spun away from me and took several steps away, putting his back to me before he twisted and grabbed onto the handrail.
His shoulders heaved as he inhaled and exhaled rapidly for several moments before I noticed my own adrenaline pulsing through my blood, burning me from the inside out.
“Why’d you leave then? You just disappeared.” He shook his head, staring down at the tumultuous waves. I wondered if his insides felt like those waves. Mine did. “What happened?” he asked, twisting his head in my direction.
“Dad said I had to go, that he never should have allowed me out of the house and because he did, my actions brought a risk to the family…or some bullshit like that. It’s all…” I paused and waved a hand in the air. As if a magic wand could erase the last several minutes. “It’s all blurry now.”
“Right,” he smirked. “Just one easily forgettable night.”
A blush hit my cheeks at the thought. Lying in the back of Tyson’s pickup in a field outside the city limits. It was our spot, where we went the night I had given my virginity to him six months earlier. It hadn’t been romantic at first, but Tyson made it so with blankets and candles. Everything a girl could want. That last night we were together hadn’t been any different.
We had spent the night talking about heading off to our separate colleges. We talked about what we thought it’d be like, to finally be on our own, and how we could see each other as often as possible. Our time together was disappearing rapidly before Tyson had to report to football camp, but we tried not to dwell on it. Like we always did, we sealed our promise to stay together forever with a kiss, which unfailingly led to more.
“It wasn’t,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “But I didn’t have a choice, either, Tyson. Dad sent me off that night.”
His gazed stayed fixed on my eyes before it slid to my lips and then down my body. It felt intrusive, and I fought the urge to hide myself. I hadn’t done anything wrong except trust the man responsible for bringing me into this world. The man who sheltered me and raised me.
Perhaps, after all, that had been wrong.
“You could have come to me.”
“Really?” I tilted my head to the side. “What would you have done? Even if you’re telling me the truth, it’s not like I could have done anything different. Your dad was still investigating mine.”
His eyes closed and pain lashed across his face. I saw it clearly in the way he jolted back and sucked in a breath. “Your dad had mine killed two years later, Blue.”
The words left his mouth in a whisper and were quickly forced into the air where they formed a ball that slammed into my chest with the speed of a bullet. It seared into my skin, and tears filled my eyes. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m not sure you’ve ever truly understood what he’s capable of.”
I shook my head again, as if the action could erase the words Tyson just spoke, or the truth in them. “How do you know?”
He laughed, but it was cold as ice. Ice trickled down my spine. “I know.”
“Then why wasn’t he investigated?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Do you know who Jimmy Galecki is? How many men in the department are in his pocket or on his payroll? Do you have any idea the influence your father has with men in this city? How much influence you have because of your name?”
I did. I’d always known it to some extent, but I had only experienced the benefit the name could bring, not the destruction. Although what he said made sense. I often searched for news of my father and our family online. Nothing was ever mentioned, not even about the DPD investigating him.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped the first tears from my eyes away and turned, putting my back to the rail. “Now you know.”
“Where’d you go?”
“I have an aunt in Colorado. I’ve been there, working on her farm.”
An odd sound came from beside me. When I turned my head, I saw just the hint of a smile that matched his incredulous look. “Farm?”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone knows my mom comes from a hippie family. Her sister has a goat farm.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting, but clearly amused. “You’ve been living on a goat farm?”
Most of the tension and the anger dissipated with just that question. I imagined what he was thinking. I thought the same thing for the first several months. Me? A girl who had a cotillion. Who began having her hair dyed and highlighted at the age of thirteen, along with weekly manicures, and had closets full of designer clothes?
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I protested.
Tyson’s grin only grew wider and he stepped in front of me. “I think I need to hear more about your life on a farm.”
Slowly, I nodded. Then I reached out and placed my palm in his extended hand. Somehow knowing that one action would change everything. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Chapter 6
While the stress eased off my shoulders, finally having answers even though I knew we had more questions between us, I could feel Tyson pulling away from me with every step we took. He led me farther north from my hotel to Harbortown, where most of the streets were lined with townhouses, some walk-up brownstones, and local restaurants. I loved it here because there wasn’t a chain or franchise restaurant in sight. My eyes widened as I saw a familiar place, one where we used to eat.
“Cherry Yo-Ville?” I asked. It could have been a coincidence.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, proving it wasn’t a coincidence after all. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he clearly remembered the times we used to eat here. He looked down at me and tightened his hand around mine. “I didn’t even realize where I was headed.”
Then his eyes hardened again and he tugged me inside. I knew we still had a lot to discuss, but there was one thing I could no longer deny:
Even with the unknowns, I hadn’t felt more at home in the last ten years than I did when Tyson was touching me in some way.
I frowned as I thought about the way he so quickly changed his emotions and clenched my teeth together while we grabbed our bowls. We were silent while we loaded them up with different frozen yogurts and waited in line before piling on the toppings. The entire time, Tyson stood close, not touching me, but I could feel his presence like a wall of fire at my back or by my side.
“What’s going on with your mom?” he asked once we were seated at the table.
“Not much to say. This is her third time fighting breast cancer, and it’s metastasized to her brain. Her body can’t handle it anymore.” I closed my eyes and inhaled briefly, fighting back tears. “There’s nothing they can do for her.”
“Blue—,” he began, his voice full of pity or sympathy. I hated the thought of either.
The sight of her in her bed, so small, frail, and pale, flashed in my mind’s eye, and I quickly changed the subject. Talking about my mom wasn’t something I wanted to continue.
“So, you know what I’ve been doing for the last ten years.” I took my first bite of a mixture of birthday cake and Oreo yogurt and closed my eyes, savoring the flavors. As good, if not better, than I remembered. “What’d you do after college?”
He paused, his eyes glancing to his food before coming back to mine, but I caught the tightening of his jaw. Then he smiled, and it made me feel all funny. “I think we need to talk about this goat farm far more.”
My lips pressed together, a spoonful of fro-yo hovering at my closed lips, and I arched my brows.
When I realized he was going to completely ignore my question, all the warmth I had been feeling earlier began to cool. But I couldn’t stop smiling as I thought about the farm, and I let him distract me, even though I knew he was hiding something. I hoped like hell he’d tell me when he was ready.
He listened intently while I told him about my first few months on the farm, where I had spent more time facedown in mud and running from the few chickens in Eleanor’s chicken coop than I did providing any real help. He listened to my stories of farmers’ markets and learning how to make goat milk and cheese. How we made our own candles.
Life was simple on the farm, but it was good, too. I learned I was capable of more than my parents ever wanted of me. I was capable of handling myself and working with my hands. I did things I never would have considered myself capable of, but under the tutelage of my gentle, loving aunt, somehow, all things were possible.
His eyes and laugh lit up the room. I wanted to continue telling him anything just so his eyes didn’t darken anymore.