by Kim Law
“No. I moved in with Nikki’s parents the last two years of high school.”
Heather’s brows shot up. “You lived with Nikki during high school?”
“I did.” He grinned. “That was the only time—until Vegas—that she openly defied her parents. She told them they could either let me live there until I graduated, or she would move to Nashville with me.”
“She was ballsy.”
He chuckled and pushed on up to a sitting position. “You don’t know the half of it.” He reached for a soda. “And yes, before you ask about the other part of what I told you, Mom’s husband is a wannabe country music star, and from what I can tell, he’s pretty much in the same place now as he was nine years ago. With Mom still supporting him.”
“Well, doesn’t he sound like a winner?”
He acknowledged her remark with a tip of his hat. “My thoughts exactly.”
“So, do you see her often?”
“I’ve seen her twice in the last four years. Three months after Rose was born, when she and Boyd came to Vegas. She’d used all her vacation time going to gigs with Boyd, or they would have made it out sooner. And then Rose and I went to Nashville two years later. We’re due for a trip soon.”
Heather blinked. “And that’s it?”
“That’s it. I talk to her every couple of weeks, though. We stay in touch.” He’d never understood why his mother’s lack of attention didn’t bother him more. She’d done her part after his dad had left, he supposed. She was a good enough mother, she just had other interests now.
“So then . . . your dad.”
Waylon worked to maintain his relaxed posture, and picked at the chicken finger he had yet to finish. “What about him?”
His dad was harder to talk about, no matter that he was living with him now.
Or possibly, the fact that the two of them were living together made it even more difficult. Because everything was going well. He should have nothing at all to complain about. Only, every nuance about their arrangement felt just a hair off-kilter. As if the two weeks they’d lived under the same roof had consisted more of “pretending” to be improving their relationship rather than actually doing anything to truly grow it.
“When did they divorce?” Heather watched him in the same hesitant way that she asked the question.
“When I was seven.”
“When you moved from Nikki’s grandparents’ ranch?” She was sharp. He’d known she’d pick up on that.
He intended to confirm her question orally, but only managed a nod.
“And what happened after that?”
The way she continued tiptoeing with her questions told him that she’d picked up on the underlying tension between them. He shrugged, knowing his condensed version wouldn’t suffice. “Dad and Mom divorced, Dad found another job, and Dad didn’t take me with him.”
She held up a hand. “Slow down. Why change jobs?”
“Who knows? Greener pastures, I guess.”
Lack of understanding pinched her features. “But why not stay where he’d been working? Did a divorce have to change his job?”
“Who knows, Heather,” he repeated, because he truly didn’t know. He’d never asked.
“Okay.” She backed off. “I’ll let it go. But what did you mean by he didn’t take you with him?”
“Just what I said.” He forced himself to maintain eye contact. “He didn’t take me with him.”
As he said the words, it occurred to him that Nikki was the only person with whom he’d ever shared the story of his parents. And Heather had every right to know. So he tamped down his defensiveness, and he started at the beginning.
“Mom was an okay parent,” he shared. “Nothing special, nothing bad. But she also probably would have been happy never having a kid. I was an accident, and I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason they married in the first place.”
“You and Rose were both ‘accidents’?”
“We were.” He hated thinking of his daughter that way, but the fact was, she hadn’t been planned. “The difference is that Rose has a parent who knows his life wouldn’t be as good without her in it.”
The pain in Heather’s eyes matched that in his soul. “Rose is a very lucky girl,” she said softly, and she reached out a hand to take his.
“I like to think so.”
Of course, he’d also lost custody of his daughter. Which meant that he very well might not be so great for her.
At the same time, he was also now trying to take her from two people who could provide far more for her than he’d ever be able to. And two people he knew she was happy with. That knowledge often kept him awake at nights, and what he typically wound back to was a single question. Was he fighting for custody for Rose’s benefit, or was he doing it for himself?
Was he the best thing for his daughter?
“Waylon?” Heather’s gentle voice brought him back from thoughts of his impending custody battle.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, back to my story.” Back to thinking about how he would do better for his daughter than his dad had done for him. “There was nothing ‘wrong’ with Mom. She provided a good home, and I never wanted for the basics. And my stepdad didn’t beat me nor get up in my business, so that was a plus. But even as a kid, I often felt like I played second fiddle.” He paused before admitting, “Nor was I a priority for my dad.” And this part, he’d never even said to Nikki. “No matter how much I tried to be.”
He looked for Rose then, needing not to be looking at Heather, and watched as she played with several girls. Rose would never be left feeling as if she wasn’t the most important thing in his life. Whether he had custody of her or not.
“I begged him to take me with him,” he continued after a minute. He suddenly wanted to get the story out, and he wanted Heather to understand him. “And I mean, begged,” he added. A seven-year-old boy could cry. He knew.
He rubbed his hand over his once-broken leg.
“But he said no. Said I needed to stay with Mom.”
Heather had grown quiet, and though he still didn’t look at her, she kept her hand wrapped tightly around his. “I’m sorry,” she said now. “That must have been difficult.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. He didn’t tell her that he’d also overheard his mother offering to let his father take him. After Waylon had spent an entire afternoon trying to hide his tears.
His dad hadn’t wanted him, though. More important things to do, Waylon supposed.
He shared with Heather that from that point on, he’d started acting out. Doing little things to get attention, until the little things eventually evolved into big things.
“I’m not trying to blame others,” he went on. “At least, not completely. I’m just saying that there’s a lot of anger that courses through a person when their entire world gets upended.” He placed his other hand over hers. “As I’m sure you’re well aware.”
They both fell silent before Heather said, “Have you talked to your dad about all of that?”
Waylon jerked his gaze to hers. “No. I haven’t.” Surprise colored his words. “And I don’t intend to.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t quite the way you remember it?” she offered. “Maybe you need closure to move past it?”
“It was exactly the way I remember it, and I have moved past it. I’d moved past it by the next summer.” And he wasn’t about to tell his dad that he needed to “talk about his feelings.” “I spent summers helping out on whatever ranch Dad was working at, and I spent school years with my mom.”
He’d also spent summers honing poker skills from the ranch hands working with his dad.
“So you’ve always had a relationship with your father, then?”
Waylon eyed her. “Sure.”
“It was just strained?”
Strained. He almost laughed at the simplicity of the word. But it was certainly accurate.
> “Exactly. But it’s better now.” He was ready to wrap up the conversation. “Since Rose was born, it’s been better. Both of us seemed to change without having to work at it. And then last spring”—he thought about waking up in the hospital and his father being there—“I wouldn’t be where I am now without his help. He helped me through my injury. Through the PT.” He needed to tell her about his injury. About why he’d gotten injured in the first place. “And he loaned me the money for the down payment on my house.”
Heather watched him carefully. “The house you need in order to get Rose back?”
“Yes.” He found his daughter in the crowd once again, then he thought about having that conversation with his dad. The one Heather had suggested. If he did, though, his question to his father wouldn’t be why he’d taken another job after the divorce. Ranchers often moved around. Waylon knew that.
What he’d want to know was why he wouldn’t take Waylon with him when he had left.
And if his dad had any clue just how badly that had hurt.
“The house I need in order to get Rose back,” he repeated Heather’s words, his voice drifting into the family-filled night surrounding them, and he admitted to himself that what he really wanted to hear from his dad was that he’d messed up. That he should have taken him. That he regretted how things had turned out.
But that conversation hadn’t happened over the last twenty years, and Waylon had no reason to believe it ever would.
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s a fact of life that people will lie. Sometimes to serve their own interests, sometimes simply because they’re algae dirtying up the bottom of a pond. And some will surprise you with their honesty. It’s up to you to decipher the truth.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #68
Heather sat on the front seat of Waylon’s truck, not glancing at the man beside her, and doing her best not to let the scene at the Jameses’ replay in her mind. And she’d been that way for the last thirty minutes.
While Waylon seemed to be processing the events by making small talk.
“Thank you for going with me.”
She glanced over for only a second. “Thank you for asking.”
At least, she’d meant those words before they’d arrived at Rose’s grandparents’. Since climbing back into the truck to come home, though, she wasn’t sure if she was more grateful to have gone—and witnessed what Waylon was up against—was more horrified that she’d started a relationship with the man sitting beside her to begin with, or if she was simply terrified at the idea that the reality lay somewhere in between.
She looked out her window, still not ready to bring up the moments after Waylon had pulled up in front of what had to be a million-dollar home.
“Rose asked me to tell you she’d draw you more pictures this week.”
Heather looked down at the paper in her lap. When Waylon had picked her up that afternoon, Rose had presented her with the picture of the three of them watching a movie at the park the night before. She’d also informed Heather how very much she’d missed her today.
Heather blew out a shaky breath. She could totally fall for that girl if she weren’t careful. In fact, she likely already had. The movie last night had been one of those special kinds of experiences that she wouldn’t mind repeating. The movie had started while she and Waylon had been talking, and Rose had sprinted back to their blanket. Only, instead of sitting by her dad, she’d settled in on Heather’s lap. Where she’d stayed until she’d fallen asleep.
Heather had carried her to the truck while Waylon followed with their belongings, and it had taken a huge effort not to climb into the cab of the truck and go home with them.
Waylon had looked at her as if he’d been considering suggesting the same.
“That’s part of our ritual.” He glanced at her now, and clarified, “When we whisper on the porch. We say the same thing every week. I’m going to call her every night, and she’s going to draw me a picture every day. But tonight, she said she’s going to draw you one every day, too.”
“Oh, geez,” Heather muttered. She pressed a fist to her chest. She’d definitely fallen.
“My girl is special,” Waylon said, his voice now more musing than telling, and when Heather glanced his way once more, she saw the worry he must carry with him all the time.
“I can’t imagine the judge won’t rule in your favor.” She didn’t know where her conviction had come from. That would have been her thought last night. Before speaking with Madelyn James.
But now?
Waylon’s chuckle fell flat. “I can’t imagine Marcus and Madelyn won’t pull out everything they have to keep that very thing from happening.” He gulped. “And you witnessed all you needed to understand how they plan to pull that off.”
“Please tell me what she said was lies.” Her words were pure plea. As Waylon had been talking to Rose on the porch, Rose’s grandmother had been filling Heather’s ears with vile thoughts.
Waylon does drugs—and has for years.
Waylon has a habit of leaving his daughter home alone. For hours at a time.
Waylon has a wide range of gambling issues, not the least of which is an absolute addiction to the game.
And Waylon was put in the hospital for conning the wrong person in a poker game.
Heather shook her head, wishing the words away, and Waylon pulled the truck over to the side of the road. He killed the engine and turned to her, and the two feet separating them suddenly felt more like fifty.
“Almost all of them were lies,” he said.
“Almost?” She didn’t even want to guess which was true.
Once again, he seemed to age before her eyes. “First of all, I’m sorry she cornered you that way. I should have guessed she’d pull something like that, but sometimes, even she surprises me.”
Waylon had overheard the taunts as he’d returned to the truck. Madelyn had been spewing it all out again, as if someone had hit repeat and she couldn’t stop talking. Upon realizing what she was up to, an all-out shouting match had ensued. Rose’s grandfather had hurried Rose into the house, Rose crying her eyes out, while Waylon had shut Madelyn down.
He’d then tried to get inside the house to comfort his daughter, but the Jameses wouldn’t allow it.
“Almost,” he said again. The sides of his face pulled down. “And for the record, I’d already planned to tell you everything I’m about to share with you now. I’d intended to do it tonight. Even before Madelyn started in on you. That’s why I wanted you to come with me to take Rose back. Dad is gone to visit with some friends for a couple of days, and I’d decided I needed to share everything before we go any further.” His eyes begged for understanding. “I was selfish, though. For not telling you before now. But it’s only because I wanted to enjoy a bit more time together before I risked losing you for good.”
Fear blossomed at his words. She didn’t want to lose Waylon, either.
“Which part is true?” she asked.
“The hospital.”
Her thoughts tripped over themselves. Madelyn had said he’d been put in the hospital for conning someone in a poker game. Yet hadn’t he told her that he didn’t do that anymore? That he hadn’t since high school?
“You lied to me,” she accused.
“I lied to you. And I apologize for that.”
Thankfully, he didn’t try to reach out and touch her. Because she would have pulled back.
“And no,” he continued, “I don’t have an excuse for lying other than shame at admitting my actions. But I do have a reason for doing what I did.”
Heather wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it, but he had her trapped in his truck. She looked out the window. They hadn’t even made it back to Red Oak Falls.
“You did it because you have an addiction to gambling?” She spoke without looking at him.
“No, Heather.” There was certainty in his words. “I do not have an addiction to gambling. I don’t have any addictions, and I never have. N
ot to gambling, not to screwing people over, not to drugs.”
She didn’t mean to, but she glanced back at him. She didn’t speak, though.
“The rest of what she said was lies,” he repeated his earlier claim. “I did experiment with drugs in the past. Years ago. And there were parties when we first moved to Vegas. Sometimes I would join in and sometimes I wouldn’t. But the rest of it”—he shook his head—“not even close.”
“You’ve never left Rose home alone?”
Pain carved deep lines in his face. “Nikki did that,” he admitted. “The Jameses have money, as you could see, and they aren’t above using it however it will benefit them best. They found someone Nikki used to party with, who plans to testify to that lie. She’ll say it was me who was supposed to be home with Rose that day. Not Nikki. And certainly not that Nikki had gone off partying herself, and had blacked out and completely forgotten our child.”
Revulsion swept through Heather. “How can they do that?”
“They can do anything their money will allow.” He laid his hand on the seat between them, palm up, but Heather only stared at it. She couldn’t take his hand. Not yet.
“Is someone going to testify about drugs, too?”
He nodded. “A guy I went to high school with. We got into some trouble together early on, played poker a time too many. I haven’t talked to him since I moved away.”
“Then how are you going to fight them?” Her voice shook. “How are you going to get Rose back?”
“That’s where the hospital stay comes in.” He pulled his hand back and clenched it in his lap. “They’d already tried to get custody of Rose once. After Nikki died. I guess they thought they could win by fighting fair at that point, simply by going on their name. Because they’re ‘somebody’ in San Antonio. But the case was heard in Vegas, and the judge sided with me. Rose was best off with her dad.”
“Of course she is.”
His mouth twitched with her vehemence, almost curving into a smile.
“But then they tried again.” No hint of a smile remained. “After I moved back to Texas. I was working on a farm close to Odessa, and I got another subpoena. They were filing for custody again, and this time they were doing it in their hometown. And they’d hired the best attorneys money can buy.”
