I laughed. “You’re so insane.”
“But the best kind of insane. Because I’m crazy about you.”
My heart caught even as I rolled my eyes. “That’s kinda corny.”
“I don’t care. As long as you’re ready to open up to me. I want to be there for you. I want to be there for Wyatt. And I really hope you’ll let me.”
“Thank you, Austin.” I bit my tongue as I looked into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to lean on someone. Some of the tension leached out of my shoulders. I knew I could trust him. I believed him. Somehow on that crazy, snowy afternoon in Tahoe I’d met the one guy who was willing to put up with my heavy load and even help me carry it. A well of emotion swelled inside me. Seeing it mirrored in his eyes made me catch my breath. “Austin, I—”
“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Suddenly Wyatt appeared at my side, panting but hungry for attention. “Can I have chicken?”
And apparently hungry for food too.
I sighed, the moment lost. “I didn’t have any chicken to pack, kiddo. Let’s see what’s inside the bag.”
22
Austin
Life was pretty damn perfect. I had a rocketing business, shit was finally going right with my family—aside from he who shall not be named—I had an amazing woman in my life, and her kid was pretty fantastic, too. I was actually kinda surprised how much I enjoyed hanging out with Wyatt. He brought out the lighter side of me that I’d buried when I was eight and had to be an adult for my brothers. My eyes flicked to the large stuffed superhero riding shotgun. I’d gleaned enough about Wyatt over the past month to know that he loved this one cartoon about kids as superheroes. I just hoped I hadn’t gone overboard and pissed Rachel off in my attempt to get in good with Wyatt. I already knew he liked me, and I loved to see him smile.
Okay, I was trying to buy his love, but he was three; it wasn’t like it would take much.
Really, the only thing not going right was the fucking traffic. My eyes flicked to the dashboard of my truck. I still had fifteen minutes before I was late. As I idled at my fourth red light in as many blocks, I seriously debated just saying screw it and taking my pickup onto the sidewalk.
The world around me slowed to a muted roar at the sight of my brother, Dylan, standing in front of an office building—where my father’s lawyer had an office. I could be wrong. Maybe Dylan had some tax stuff or wanted to see a therapist or something.
But I knew.
The blare of a horn jerked me back to the present. The light was green. I surged forward, cut across three lanes of traffic before screeching into a parking garage a block away. Pulling into the first empty spot I saw, I shoved the gearshift into park and sprang out of the truck, getting tangled in my seat belt in the process. I tugged my arm free, and the belt clanged against the window before I slammed the door shut.
As I walked toward the building Dylan had entered, I pulled out my cell, chose his name on the contact list and called him. The line rang and rang and rang until finally his voicemail picked up with a robotic woman’s generic message.
Son of a bitch.
I stopped in front of the board that listed the building’s tenants. There were a few therapists, a lawyer, but my eyes narrowed in on one.
Fuck.
I tore up the staircase and by the time I reached the glass door of 202 I was puffing. And it had nothing to do with the cardio workout. Why the fuck was Dylan here? Why was he meeting with Dad’s fucking lawyer? I had to find out, but I was afraid to know at the same time. The lobby looked empty, but I couldn’t be sure.
I took a few beats to try to calm the rage roaring through my veins because I knew—I fucking knew why he was here—but I wanted to hear it from him.
The door creaked when I opened it, and I didn’t really take in the 90s beige waiting room in front of me. Instead I scanned the mostly empty room—not finding Dylan—then rested on middle-aged blonde behind the reception desk. She was idly clicking her mouse, head buried behind the computer screen until I cleared my throat.
“Is he in?” I growled.
“I’m afraid Mr. Kilpatrick is with a client right now. If you’d like, I could schedule an appoint—”
“Not Tony. Dylan. Is Dylan in there?” I jabbed a finger at the hallway behind her desk and the closed doors beyond. “I saw him come in. Is he back there with that fucking shark?”
I might have written everything about my sperm donor off, but I remembered the arguments my aunt had with his parents for months both during and after the trial, and the paperwork I’d found years after their deaths. How they’d set up a trust in his name to pay for attorney fees. All their money went to him. They didn’t leave us a fucking dime. Even after death, they’d picked him.
The name Tony Kilpatrick had been branded on my brain ever since.
“I’m sorry. I can’t divulge the name of any of our clients.”
“He’s not your fucking client. He’s here because of one of your clients. There’s a difference, right?”
“Sir, you need to calm down. If you don’t, I will call security and have them escort you from the building.”
That old relic who’d been napping next to the elevator? Like he was a threat. But she’d probably call the cops and press trespassing charges against me. And I wouldn’t get any answers from Dylan while I was hanging out in a holding cell.
Fuck.
I pivoted to survey the sagging beige chairs surrounding the waiting area. Picking the least uncomfortable looking one, I plopped down and folded my arms across my chest. I sat like a stone, my eyes trained on the two closed doors behind her. Dylan was back there. I wanted to see his face when he saw that I knew what he was doing.
I don’t even know how much time passed. My phone vibrated a few times in my pocket, but I didn’t bother to look. My gaze didn’t leave the hallway and whichever door Dylan was hiding behind.
Finally, the closest door opened and an older, short, dark haired man stepped out. He was talking to the man behind him, and I stood as a familiar head came into view behind Tony.
Dylan.
Tony was laughing at something Dylan had said, and Dylan was smiling too. Both of them looked like they didn’t have a care in the world—like they hadn’t helped to unleash Satan himself on the world.
Dylan laughed and nodded at something, then his eyes lifted to me and he froze. His face went pale before a red flush swept over his face and neck.
I hooked my thumbs in my back pockets and shook my head. “Why?”
“I’m not talking about this here, Austin.” Dylan scowled.
“Austin? Austin Burns?” Tony perked up and sent me a smile. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. I’ve called and sent some letters that—”
“I got them. All of them.” I cut in. “I’m not interested in anything to do with that fucking murderer. Dylan, let’s go.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Dylan replied mutinously like we were ten fucking years old.
“Actually I am. It’s my name on the business license and my name on your fucking paycheck. But that’s got nothing to do with this bullshit. We gotta talk about what the fuck you’re doing here. Because if it’s what I think, we got some huge fucking problems.”
Dylan’s face went pale.
The receptionist reached for the phone on her desk.
“No need to call security.” Dylan crossed the office to grab my arm. “My brother and I are leaving. Tony, call me if you need anything.”
I glared at him but didn’t say a word as we stomped down the stairs, past the comatose security guard, and out the building’s door.
As we walked down the sidewalk toward the parking garage, I shook my head and muttered, “I can’t fucking believe you, Dylan. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“How the hell could I? He killed our mother. What are you doing helping his fucking attorney? How far back does this go?”
Dylan didn�
��t reply. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he hunched his shoulders and refused to look at me.
“How fucking far back does this go?” I repeated. As we reached the entrance of the parking garage, I stopped and pulled his arm until he stopped too. “He killed mom. Why the hell would you want to talk to him?”
“Because he’s the only parent we have left!” The parking garage echoed with Dylan’s shout. “Grandma and Grandpa are dead—not that we ever even saw them. Mom’s parents died a long time ago. Mom’s gone. He’s all we got left.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’ve got me and Nathan and Ryan. And Aunt Wendy and Sabrina. You’ve got a whole fucking family here. Why the hell would you ever waste a single breath on that bastard?”
“I wanted to know, okay? I don’t have the same memories you and Nathan do. Everything I know about Mom and Dad are from stories. I don’t fucking remember them. He’s been in prison for over twenty years, Austin. That’s a fucking long time.”
“That’s twenty years that Mom didn’t have. Twenty years that we didn’t have with her because he killed her!”
“And he regrets it. He’s sorry. He told me that if he could, he’d change places with her. That he’s the one who deserves to be dead.”
“Great, where do we sign up to make that happen?” I gave a dark laugh. “See this? Do you know how I got this?” I roared, pointing to the scar on my chin. “I got this when dad punched me. I was seven. Seven. It wasn’t even my fault he was pissed. I took the blame for something that Nathan did. Neither one probably remembers it, but Dad was wearing this big fucking ring that ripped open my chin. I bled like a son of a bitch. Because that’s my job. I’ve always stood between you guys and the tough shit raining down on us—Dad, that fucking bully who’d picked on you in the sixth grade, the West Coast Kings—that’s my job. And now I have this little fucking line on my face that I see every time I look in the mirror. I don’t forget. I can’t forget. Because the last thing I wanna do is turn out like him.”
“He spent the first few months in prison on suicide watch, that’s how much he regretted what he did. He’s a different man. He’s spent years in anger management. He joined AA. He got help for his problems. That’s why…” Dylan trailed off and rubbed at the back of his neck.
After the way Dylan had argued in support of our father when I broke the news of his parole to the family, I knew Dylan had softened toward the bastard. But I was still beyond pissed. How could he side with him? That bastard was the reason we didn’t have Mom anymore.
And Dylan was obviously holding something back.
I didn’t know how much more I could handle without totally losing my shit, but I had to know.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Dylan kicked at a pebble and wouldn’t meet my eyes at first. After a beat, he took a deep breath then stared defiantly into my face. “I testified on his behalf at his last parole hearing. More likely than not, I’m the reason why he’s getting released.”
White hot rage sang through my bloodstream. Dylan sided with him. Spoke for him. Wanted him in his life.
“Get. Out,” I gritted out between my clenched teeth.
“Austin, wait. You don’t underst—"
“And I’m never gonna understand. You chose him. You sided with him over our family? Really? What the fuck is wrong with you? He killed her, he beat us, and you chose him.”
“It’s not like that, Austin. If you’ll just let me—"
“I don’t want to. As far as I’m concerned you’re no brother of mine. Now get the fuck away from me!” I roared. I caught a glimpse of Dylan’s slack and shocked face before I turned away. Because if I looked at him for one more second, I was gonna seriously lose my shit.
Instead I stomped to my truck, jumped in, slamming the door behind me, and roared off.
I didn’t know where I was driving to. I just had to get away from Dylan and his bullshit. My mind was blank as I drove on autopilot.
And then I blinked and my pickup was idling outside of Cole Jackson’s Tahoe cabin.
I didn’t even remember driving here.
I just hoped my entry code still worked because I was gonna get blind, fall down drunk.
As soon as possible.
23
Austin
It was the chirping of my phone that woke me up. I blinked blearily at the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t my bedroom. I was sprawled in a leather recliner surrounded by other leather recliners. What the fuck? Why was I at Cole’s Tahoe cabin?
The room swam a little as I struggled to my feet. Empty bottles clinked when I kicked them over with my uncoordinated feet. Fuck, I think I was still a little drunk.
I finally fished my phone out of my back pocket, only to lose the call as my voicemail picked up. Reading the display, my heart dropped to my feet and my stomach rolled.
Fifteen missed calls.
Ten from Rachel. A handful from my brothers. And twelve missed texts.
I opened my texts.
Rachel: Are you okay? Running late at work?
Rachel: Wyatt is getting impatient. We’ll meet you at the theater.
Rachel: Where the hell are you? I’m getting worried!
I knew it had to be serious if she had dropped the h-bomb.
Wait, I missed taking Rachel and Wyatt to the movies? Shit. My memories of yesterday came roaring back. Dylan. The attorney. The fucking betrayal. A hella lot of liquor—tequila, whiskey.
My phone vibrated in my hand, alerting me to a new voicemail. Looking down at the display, I could see I’d missed a few texts from my brothers—Nathan, Ryan—and even one from Sabrina. But I assumed they were more of the same. At the very least they could wait till I sorted shit out with Rachel. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was so pissed at myself for running without even letting her know what was up.
I toggled through my favorite contacts and called her back. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I waited impatiently for her to pick up.
Finally on the fourth ring, Rachel whispered, “Hello?”
“Hey baby. I am so, so—”
“Oh my god. Austin!” She sounded more alert. “I thought for sure it’d be the police or hospital that’d finally return my call. I’ve been so worried. What happened? Where are you? The hospital? Were you in an accident?”
“No, baby, I’m okay. Everything’s fine. I uh…” I sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I got some bad news and needed some time to think.”
The silence on her end of the line made my ears ring.
“Rachel? You still there?” I cleared my throat nervously.
“Are you telling me that instead of meeting me and my son—to go to the new superhero movie that he didn’t even know was out until you told him and promised him you’d take him to. And you built it up because he’s never been to a movie since I can’t afford that luxury—you’re telling me that you went out and got drunk?”
“It’s not that simple. My brother—”
“Is your brother alive? Did anyone die?”
“Of course not. I would’ve…”
“What? Called me? Because you know that’s what I was worried had happened, right? It was like the night of my mother’s crash all over again. Only instead of a phone call from the hospital, I got silence from you. I was so freaked out I dragged my son over to your shop after the movie. I got your brothers all worked up, and for what? You went on some bender and got drunk because you can’t face whatever’s going on in your life.”
“Rach, it’s not that simple. You don’t understand. See—”
“No, you don’t understand. My son was counting on you. I was counting on you. We went to the movies anyway because I wasn’t going to disappoint him. He saved you a seat. He wanted to buy the big tub of popcorn because he knows how much you eat. He spent the whole movie waiting for you to show up. And when he asked me where you were right before the show started, his eyes welling with tears… I just, I can’t…” Her v
oice grew thick and she sighed shakily.
“I’m sorry. I know I messed up. I’ll make it up to him. I swear.”
“No, Austin. You won’t. I don’t—I can’t trust you to show up or communicate with me when you can’t make it. It’s how we met after all. You ran away from home and went on a bender because you couldn’t deal with the shit going on in your life. Well, good for you. We don’t all have that luxury. I gotta show up to work to keep a roof over my family’s head. I gotta be there for my son.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “And you’ve shown me pretty damn clearly that I can’t trust that you’ll do the same when whatever shit you have in your world hits the fan.”
My heartbeat thumped loudly in my ears. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“You can’t be serious? Because I didn’t show up to one movie? That’s ridiculous, Rach.”
“It has nothing to do with a movie. It’s because you disappointed Wyatt. Because you didn’t even have the courtesy to call. Your life is about you. And so this is what I have to do. It’s what’s best for my family. I can’t trust that you’ll be there when I need you. When Wyatt needs you.”
“This is crazy.” My mind raced as I tried and failed to think of a reason or excuse to make this up to her. She was right. This wasn’t the way anyone should treat the people you cared about. But it’s the way I’d been treating my brothers. They had let me get away with it—for years. But Rachel wouldn’t. I had to do better. Because there was no way in hell that I was giving up on her. I loved her.
I froze.
I loved her.
It’d been hovering at the back of my mind every time I was around her, but I’d never put the words together until now. I loved her.
And I was going to lose her.
There had to be same way I could make it up to her. Drawing a blank—no doubt due to my foggy and still slightly inebriated head, I sighed. “I don’t want to do this over the phone. When can I come see you? I think we need to talk face to face.”
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