by Brenda Novak
“How?” she gasped.
“No way could Kellan have been as much Dylan’s son as he has been—and still is—if Dylan knew from the beginning that Aaron was the one who’d fathered him.”
She sniffed again. “Aaron said that?”
“He did.”
“Thank God. I thought he might hate me, too.”
“Dylan could never hate you, Chey,” Mack said. “So...you haven’t heard from Aaron?”
“He sent a text saying he was almost to town.”
Apparently, he hadn’t turned around. “What about Presley?”
“She called to say it would all be okay. I just wish I could believe her.”
“She’s right,” Mack said. “It’s just going to take some time to wade through this and sort it all out.”
“I hope you’re right. Listen, if...if you hear from Dylan, will you let me know?”
“I will.” Where had Dylan gone? Mack finished his meal so that he could go drive around town and, hopefully, find his big brother. He wanted to make sure he was okay. But as soon as he grabbed his keys, he received a text that let him know exactly where Dylan was.
I’m out front, it read. Do you have a minute?
* * *
Dylan waited for Mack to get in and put on his seat belt before driving away. He didn’t speak immediately, and neither did Mack. Mack was waiting to give his brother a chance to sort out his thoughts and say what he needed to say.
“Does Grady know about Kellan?” Dylan asked, breaking the silence, but not until after they’d reached the middle of town.
“No,” Mack replied. “I didn’t think it would be wise to tell him. In my opinion, the less people who know, the better.”
“How many people does that encompass?”
“You, Cheyenne and Kellan, of course. And Aaron and Presley.”
“That’s it? You haven’t told anyone else?”
“No. I have spoken to Aaron, however.”
“What’d he have to say?” Dylan’s jaw was tight, his words clipped.
“He’s upset.”
“He’s upset?” Dylan echoed.
“Yeah. He never wanted it to come to this. Said it ruins the best gift he’s ever given you. Nothing has made him happier than watching you with Kellan, Dyl, knowing how much you love him. To think he was able to be part of that, well, he said it felt pretty damn good.”
When Dylan didn’t respond, Mack knew those words had hit him hard. If that hadn’t been clear, the single tear rolling down his cheek would’ve made it obvious. Had Dylan assumed his younger brother would be glad the truth was finally out? That he’d be gloating?
“Dyl, you know how much pride Aaron has. It was hard for him to let you take over and be in charge when we were younger. He resented you and challenged you at every turn. Made what you were trying to do that much harder. But you never gave up on him, never let him go into the system, and you could have. Now that he’s older, he realizes what a Herculean effort taking over for Dad really was and how much he owes you—how much we all do. I guess he felt making it possible for you to have Kellan was one way he could repay you for some of that.”
No response.
“Aaron didn’t say this part,” Mack continued, “but I believe it allowed him to feel more like your equal. I think that’s why you two started getting along so much better about that time. Part of it was basic maturity. You were both settling down. But part of it was knowing he could love you enough to give you something that would mean everything to you.”
Dylan didn’t speak. He was too busy trying to blink back tears.
“Don’t blow up your marriage, or your relationship with Kellan or Aaron, because of this,” Mack said. “I know it must’ve come as a blow. I can’t say it was fair that they didn’t tell you. But I can’t say they were wrong, either.”
Dylan gaped at him. “You don’t think they were wrong?”
“No, not really. In my book, it was a judgment call. Some people think a lie is a lie is a lie—and every lie is bad. Maybe to those people life is black or white. But that’s far too simplistic a view for me. I see too many shades of gray for that to adequately reflect reality. Cheyenne did what she did because it was the only way to make having a child free and easy for you. Does that make sense? And I’m not talking about doctor bills. She didn’t want you to feel the disappointment of being unable to give her a child, not after everything you’d already been through. Aaron didn’t want that, either. And he was trying to arrange it so that you wouldn’t feel indebted to him for stepping up to make it happen. He certainly didn’t want to make things awkward, to have to worry about you watching him more closely than the rest of us for fear he might try to assume a different role with Kellan than that of uncle. They did it for so many reasons, Dyl. But the biggest was love. Everything else fits under that umbrella.”
He watched Dylan’s throat work as he struggled to swallow.
“Isn’t that what matters most?” Mack asked. “Not what they did but why they did it? From what I’ve seen, Aaron hasn’t treated Kellan any differently than Rod’s kids. He wanted you to have Kellan. He still does. Kellan’s actual DNA means nothing, but even if it did, you’re closely related to him—because of Cheyenne and Aaron.”
The silence stretched once again. Eventually, Dylan cleared his throat. “So what am I supposed to tell Kellan?”
Mack stared out the window. They’d left Whiskey Creek and were on Highway 49, which passed through so many of the historic mining communities of the gold rush almost two centuries ago. If they continued, they’d run into another small town very similar to the one where they’d both been born and raised. “I think you tell him exactly what happened and why. What other choice do you have?”
Dylan cleared his throat again. “And if he still won’t come home? What if he asks to go live with Aaron?”
That was a terrible thought. But Kellan was just a child. And he was hurt himself. He could make the situation worse without even realizing what he was doing. “I hope he won’t do that, Dyl. I hope he knows what he has in you. We did. Most of the time, anyway. But even if he doesn’t, Aaron would never allow it. You’re Kellan’s father. It might not seem like it now, but Kellan will get over this—and the better you take it, the better he’ll take it. Treat it like it’s no big deal. That you love him, regardless, and that’s what’s important. Because it is.”
Dylan drove without speaking for several minutes. Then he said, “Life is crazy. You know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” Mack said. “It can be tough. But you’re tough, too. You may be older than the MMA fighter who pulled us all through the darkest time of our lives—” he grinned “—but I don’t think you’ve gone soft quite yet.”
Dylan arched a challenging eyebrow at him, and Mack chuckled. “There you go,” he said.
“Just wait until you have a child of your own,” Dylan grumbled.
Knowing he might already have a son, Mack glanced away. “Yeah, well, when I do, I hope I’m half the dad you are.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Dylan said. “I made so many freaking mistakes with you guys. I was barely eighteen. I had no idea what I was doing.”
“Every dad makes mistakes. You came through for us. You were immovable in your love and loyalty. That was what we needed most. And that’s what Kellan needs right now.”
Dylan reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
Twelve
Aaron’s truck was parked in front of the house when Dylan got home. His brother had driven almost three hours from Reno, where he ran their second Amos Auto Body location, even though he had to be up early to open the shop.
As soon as Dylan let himself into the house, both Aaron and Cheyenne came to their feet, and Cheyenne rushed across the room, her worried gaze searching his face—probably for any hint of forgiveness.
“Dyl?” she said. “Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He put an arm around her, drawing her close. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what they’d done, but he knew Mack was right. They loved him, and they meant well. And since, in his mind, fairness meant judging by intentions and not actions, he had to take their good intentions into consideration. “It’s going to be okay,” he said as she buried her face in his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”
Aaron didn’t say anything until Dylan looked at him.
“I’m sorry, bro,” he said. “We just wanted to make you happy.”
“I know.” Dylan sighed. “So...what do we do now?”
Aaron’s chest lifted as he took a deep breath. “We wait until Kellan calms down enough that we can talk to him.”
“Have you tried to reach him?”
“I have. Several times. I thought... I thought if I could convince him of the truth—that this doesn’t have to change anything—it might make you feel better.”
“But...”
Aaron shrugged. “He won’t pick up for me, either. Once Cheyenne knew I was coming, she let me know where he’s staying. I drove by, but it looked as though they were settled in for the night, so I decided not to risk upsetting him any further by banging on the door.”
“Probably a wise decision. The Rinehardts have agreed to let us see him tomorrow. The high-handedness of them deciding when it would be appropriate for us to see our own family member sort of pisses me off—that they feel they should have any say in this thing—but I’m holding my tongue, not saying or doing anything until I get to talk to Kellan tomorrow.”
Aaron shifted uncomfortably. “Do you want me to stick around for that?”
Dylan studied his younger brother, taking in the tall, muscular yet wiry body and the rugged face that was so much like his own—and Kellan’s. “Do you want to be present?” It was a difficult question to ask. Was he going to have to share his son with Aaron from here on out?
“No,” he said immediately. “Not at all. He’s your kid, Dyl. But I’ll stay if you think it will help.”
Suddenly, Dylan felt like he could breathe again—for the first time since Cheyenne had dropped the bomb that Kellan wasn’t his. Maybe Mack was right. Maybe the DNA results didn’t matter all that much. They’d been living under the same circumstances for fourteen years. The only difference was that he now knew how Kellan was conceived, and it wasn’t as he’d thought. So maybe he could put his life, which had seemed shattered only a couple of hours earlier, back together again—providing he could convince Kellan to see the situation in the same way. “No,” he said. “I think we got it.”
“If not—if you need me to say something to him that would back you up in any way—let me know.”
Dylan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping that he’d finally received a text from Kellan, but it was Presley.
We all love you.
Aaron’s wife had sent that. Nothing else. Just that. And he was glad. It was so much easier to keep it simple.
“You’d better get home to your own family,” he told Aaron.
“Okay.” Aaron pulled his keys from his pocket. “Listen, Dyl. I know this probably won’t make the situation any better, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It must seem as though we purposely set you up for a terrible fall. But we believed it would be so much better for you if you didn’t have to know.”
Having Cheyenne’s body pressed against his, her arms holding him tight, felt so familiar and so comforting that the shock and numbness Dylan had been experiencing since she told him began to ebb away. They’d been happy together; he’d be stupid to let this come between them. “Would you have ever told me?” he asked, curious to see whether Aaron had been tempted.
His brother shook his head adamantly. “Are you kidding? I wish you didn’t have to know even now.”
Somehow, in spite of everything, Dylan chuckled. “We’ve had to deal with some weird situations, you and I.”
“That’s true. But we’re brothers, and we’ll always be there for each other. It might not seem like it, but that’s what this was about, Dyl.”
Letting go of Cheyenne, Dylan clasped Aaron’s hand and gave him a brief man hug. He’d always found it strange that it was more awkward for him to be demonstrative with Aaron than his other brothers, but it was what it was.
And now he knew it wasn’t likely to change.
* * *
Mack’s phone went off bright and early the next morning. Hoping it wasn’t more bad news about Kellan or Dylan, he fumbled to answer and managed to hit the right button. What he couldn’t do was talk without sounding hoarse. “’Lo?” he croaked.
“Mack?”
It was a child’s voice—but his caller was too young to be Kellan. “Lucas?” he said.
“Can I buy a toy, Mack?”
Yes, it was Lucas. Mack recognized the voice. Scrubbing his free hand over his face, he sat up against the headboard. “What kind of toy, buddy?”
“One at the store.”
His eyes felt like sandpaper, and this call had interrupted some desperately needed sleep. So that he’d be available in case something happened with Dylan, Aaron, Cheyenne or Kellan, he’d sat up watching a movie with Grady last night. But he couldn’t help laughing. “Where’s your mom?”
“In the shower.”
His mind immediately conjured the image of Natasha lying naked in the tub as he rubbed her soapy body—and suddenly he felt much more alert. “Can I talk to her?”
“No!” he said. “She’ll get mad at me.”
“For...”
“Calling you. She told me I couldn’t.”
“I won’t tell her,” Mack said. “Just give her the phone, and I’ll bring you a surprise when I come back.”
“You will?”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
Mack laughed again. “I promise.” He could hear Lucas running upstairs. A door opening. The water running.
“Mommy?”
“What, sweetheart?” Natasha’s voice was surprisingly clear when she responded, but she didn’t give Lucas a chance to answer before she asked, “Did you finish your breakfast?”
“No,” he replied. “I don’t like oatmeal.”
“You ate it for Mack.”
“It had bananas in it.”
“I put bananas in this, too,” she said, clearly exasperated. “You have to eat some of it, or you’re going to be hungry at day care today.”
“I don’t want to go to day care! I don’t like day care!”
“It’ll be fun. You’ll see. There will be other kids to play with. My boss knows the owner, says it’s a great place.”
“Why can’t I go with you?” he asked, sulkily.
“Because I have to work, remember?”
The water went off. Afraid that Lucas had forgotten about him, Mack almost hung up so that he could call back, but then Natasha said, “What are you doing with my phone?”
“Mack wants to talk to you.”
“What?”
“Mack’s on the phone.”
“This early? You didn’t call him, did you?” she added, her voice suddenly stern. “We talked about this, Lucas. That’s Mack’s money we found on the table. We’re not going to buy toys with it—we’re going to give it back to him.”
“He wants to get me a present,” Lucas said.
“Oh, he does,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll see about that. Give me the phone.
“I’m sorry,” Natasha said when she came on the line. “I told him it wasn’t polite to ask for things, but—”
“He’s six, Tash. Life is simple to him. He asks for what he wants. It’s fine. Maybe we should all do that.”
“Oh
yeah?” she said. “And what would you ask for?”
He didn’t have to think about it for long. He’d ask for another night like the one he’d spent with her during Victorian Days. After giving her that bath, making love to her was all he could think about. But he knew she’d be shocked to know that—shocked to know just how much he’d struggled to stay away from her through the years. “For you to forgive me,” he said.
There was a slight pause. He’d taken her off guard. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said at length. “What are you doing up so early?”
He didn’t tell her that he hadn’t been up until Lucas called. “Just wanted to check in. See if you’re feeling well enough to go to work.”
“I am. That was a terrible bout of the flu, but it’s gone now. Thank God. I hope you don’t come down with it. How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Is everything okay at home?”
He was tempted to tell her about the turmoil last night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was that he’d already told Dylan he hadn’t said anything to anyone else and wanted that to remain true. “Yeah.”
“You going to the shop today?”
“Maybe this afternoon.”
“Must be nice to have the luxury of deciding when you want to work,” she joked. “It hasn’t always been that way.”
“You would know. You helped us build Amos Auto Body back in the day.” He’d had so much fun when she lived and worked with him. But she’d flirted with him shamelessly, making him want things he couldn’t have. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t want her. Although he’d tried hard to generate some genuine interest in the other women he’d dated, he’d never felt quite the same about them. Natasha’s memory overshadowed everything else.
“It’s my first day,” she said. “I can’t be late. I’d better go.”
“Can you take Lucas to the store after work, so that he can buy a toy with the money I left?” he asked.
“No, I can’t,” she replied. “I told him not to ask you.”
“He didn’t ask.”