by Brenda Novak
Aaron glanced over at the barn. These days, they kept their weights and other workout equipment in there. But all those years ago, he and a friend had been spending the night in the loft when his father stabbed Mel Hafer at a local tavern for saying he’d done a shitty job fixing his car. Mel had also told J.T. that his poor dead wife would be disgusted by what he’d become. “Is Dad assuming he’ll just take over?”
“He’s not coming on too strong right now. His letter was...humble, conciliatory. He hopes we can see our way clear to including him. Shit like that. But this is a man who was hiding a deadly weapon under his mattress a year ago. What’ll he be like in a few months when he regains his confidence? We don’t even know him anymore.” Dylan cursed under his breath. “And there’s another wrinkle,” he added.
“You mean it gets worse?”
“He’s married, Aaron.”
Aaron dropped the rock he’d picked up. “What? To who?”
“Some woman he met on a hookup site for prisoners.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of woman goes to a prison website to find a mate?”
“Do you really want an answer?”
“No.” He could guess.
“Someone by the name of Anya Sharp has been writing and visiting him the past few months. They got married three weeks ago and, according to him, they can’t wait until he’s released so they can start their lives together.”
“Here?” Couldn’t their father just leave them alone? Hadn’t he done enough? “Why didn’t he tell us he was getting married?”
Dylan skipped another rock. “The lapse in communication isn’t entirely his fault. We don’t exactly keep in close touch.”
“Grady, Rod and Mack have exchanged a few letters with him. He could’ve told them.”
“Knowing Dad? He didn’t think it would make him look as helpless and downtrodden as he’d like to appear. He’s constantly at them to put money on his books. If they knew he had her doing the same—that he’d been enjoying conjugal visits, no less—they wouldn’t be as likely to trouble themselves.”
Aaron shook his head. Their father had been in prison for nearly twenty years. They’d felt his loss when he left but certainly didn’t need him now, when they’d finally outdistanced the past. “He’s being released just in time for us to take care of him, and he’s setting us up for it, too.”
“He’s still capable of working,” Dylan said.
“For how long? Anyway, what are you going to tell him?”
“I figure we should buy him off and ask him to go somewhere else. I don’t see how having him in Whiskey Creek will help any of us. And now that he’s got a wife, maybe if we gave him some money he’d go peacefully.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I thought it might. But I’m worried about Mack. He always gets defensive when we talk about Dad.”
“He feels we should forgive him. But Dad screwed up about as badly as a guy can screw up, and he did it when we needed him most. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t owe him anything. The shop wasn’t worth jack shit when you took over. It’s worth something now, but it’s taken nearly two decades of hard work to build it—our hard work, not his.”
“And the house?”
“Maybe he could’ve sold it. Or maybe he would’ve lost it to the bank. Who knows? The only thing we do know is that you’re the one who made the payments. We’re here because of you, not him. So we shouldn’t have to give him much—just enough to make a fresh start. He is our father, but I won’t let him take advantage of us.”
Dylan seemed torn. “I can’t imagine we’ll get rid of him unless we make it worth his while.”
“And getting rid of him is important,” Aaron concurred. “Not so much for you and me. We know not to trust him. But Mack and the others? The letters he’s sent them make me sick. He’s always whining about something and pleading for more money.”
Dylan toed the ground, looking for another smooth stone. “What if we give him seed money and he wastes it? Winds up on our doorstep anyway?”
“Whether he does anything with it will be up to him.”
Aaron caught sight of the house where Presley used to live and thought of what had happened there when her mother was dying of cancer. He and Presley had both been through so much when they were neighbors. They’d supported each other, forged a bond. Maybe that was why he couldn’t forget her.
“I guess you’re right.”
“What does Chey think?” Aaron asked.
Dylan’s expression grew more inscrutable. He was acting as if he’d revealed everything, laid it all out, but he was holding back. He always tried to carry the heavy end of whatever problem they faced. Aaron hated that tendency as much as he admired it. It made him feel so indebted to Dylan. “I haven’t discussed this with her,” he said.
“Why not?” Aaron pressed. “She’s part of the family now. Shouldn’t she have a say?”
“I don’t see any point in upsetting her. She’s got enough going on in her life right now.”
“You mean with Presley moving back.”
He pulled some weeds they’d missed when they were working in the yard over the weekend. “That and other things.”
Like the fact that she wanted a baby but couldn’t get pregnant? That she was coping with her own disappointment while worrying about her husband and how he’d take the news that he was the reason?
Aaron studied the river rushing over the boulders not far away. Dylan had been asked to deal with enough. At least one thing of real importance to him should come free and easy. And that could happen, if Aaron agreed to go down to the clinic Cheyenne had mentioned....
“That and other things. I just want her to be happy,” Dylan muttered.
She will be, Aaron thought.
11
The moment Aaron’s text came in, Cheyenne nudged Presley and held out her phone. “Look! He’s decided!”
“‘I’ll do it,’” Presley read. “Oh, my gosh! He’s in!”
Wyatt stopped trying to reach the coasters on Cheyenne’s side table, plopped on his butt and stared up at them as they squealed and embraced. Fortunately, Dylan was out—Cheyenne hadn’t said where—so they didn’t have to worry about being overheard.
“I can’t believe it,” Cheyenne breathed. “I’m so excited—and scared.”
“It’ll be okay.”
Cheyenne pulled away, a pensive expression on her face.
“Do you really think so?”
It wasn’t often that Cheyenne needed reassurance, especially from her. Cheyenne had always had her life more “together,” but Presley figured Cheyenne had a genetic advantage. She had been born to intelligent, attractive and wealthy parents in Colorado. She should’ve had the easiest life in the world. She would have, had she not fallen victim to Anita. Fortunately, a couple of years ago she’d managed to unravel the truth behind all those odd memories of people she no longer knew, and now had a close relationship with her birth family. She went to visit them once every few months.
Presley, on the other hand, had the misfortune of being Anita’s true daughter—and who could say what her father had been like? He couldn’t have been too admirable, not if he was willing to pay for sex with Anita. She wasn’t what most men would consider a desirable prostitute—just a cheap one.
“I think you’re going to do it, anyway, so you might as well approach it with hope and faith and try to enjoy the process,” she said.
Cheyenne must’ve liked her answer because her smile relaxed. “I’m going to get my baby!”
Another text came from Aaron, which they read together.
In case you’re hopping on the computer to make our appointments, Dylan’s on his way home so be sure to clean out your browser history and delete these messages from
your phone.
“How does he know Dylan’s coming home?”
“They must’ve been together,” Presley said. When she arrived, Cheyenne had been on the phone with Eve and merely shrugged when she asked about Dylan.
“He didn’t say he was going over to the old house. Why wouldn’t he wait and take me with him?”
Was he over there? Cheyenne typed to Aaron.
Presley waited with her for the answer.
For a few minutes. He came to apologize, but don’t let on that I told you. You know how private he is about that kind of stuff.
And you know how private I want to be about this stuff, Cheyenne wrote back. I won’t say a word if you won’t.
Deal. Just promise me you’ll never change your mind on that, not without speaking to me first.
I promise, Cheyenne replied.
“Why would Dylan owe Aaron an apology?” Presley asked. “Have they been fighting?”
“They kind of got into it on Friday night—enough that Dylan had to patch and paint a hole in my wall on Saturday.”
“Aaron punched the wall?” Presley caught her sister’s elbow to get her attention because she was staring at her phone with a sort of dumbstruck expression.
“No, Dylan did.”
“What’d Aaron do to make him mad?”
“Who knows? Dylan isn’t one to go into detail about that sort of thing.”
“But you asked Aaron to be your donor after that.”
“They have these flare-ups occasionally. It’s nothing new. That’s just the nature of their relationship.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“Sometimes, but I’m happy right now so don’t ruin it.” She held up her phone to indicate she was going to text Aaron again.
Is that why you said yes? Because you’re not mad at him anymore?
Aaron’s answer came almost instantly.
I said yes because he deserves it. And so do you.
Cheyenne smiled wistfully. “Aaron can be a real sweetheart when he wants to be.”
Didn’t Presley know it! He was also damn good in bed. But she made no comment. That she might be pregnant—for the second time—with Aaron’s baby made her feel like the biggest fool on earth. She’d narrowly escaped the bad decisions she’d made in the past and was somehow managing to build a life with the one child she had. Why would she tempt fate to make her challenges even more difficult?
She watched as Cheyenne sent Aaron a grateful You’re the best brother-in-law ever!
Just give me my jacking-off instructions when you get them, he replied, and they both cracked up.
“Leave it to a guy to sum it up so frankly.” Cheyenne grimaced as she erased their texts so that Dylan would never see them.
“I think I’ll take your Prius and clear out before Dylan gets home,” Presley told her. She’d stopped by to borrow one of their vehicles so she could transport her massage table and other items to the shop now that it was clean. “Then you two can have celebratory sex, although he’ll just think he’s getting lucky, and neither of you will have to be polite to the sister who keeps interrupting your life.”
“Quit it! You’re not interrupting our lives. Wait and take his Jeep if it’ll be easier to fit your table inside. Dylan cares about you, too. He’ll even help you load up. Or I can.”
“There’s no need for that. And the Prius will work fine. I’ll drop it off later, but it might be late so I’ll leave the keys under the mat and walk home.”
“That’s fine.” Cheyenne changed the subject to where her mind was, anyway. “Think of it...a baby. I’ll be a mother,” she said, but then her forehead puckered with fresh concern. “I wonder how long the process will take.”
“Nothing to do with doctors happens overnight,” Presley said. “Nothing even happens in a reasonable time. So be prepared.”
“But it has to happen before Dylan goes in to be checked, or there’ll be no point.”
“You’ll have to stall him—and try to hurry the insemination process along. Speaking of which...how will you pay for it? I doubt insurance covers something like this.”
“No, but it’s not as expensive as you might think. The procedure itself is only four hundred dollars.”
Presley stopped Wyatt from pulling over a lamp. “Wow, that is a surprise.”
“But there’ll also be meds, lab work and ultrasounds so...in total I may have to come up with as much as two to four thousand dollars.”
“Do you have that kind of money?” A mere thousand was a fortune in Presley’s world.
“I have a small savings account that’s separate from the one I share with Dylan. I can swing it if I have to. If I don’t have enough, Eve or Ted or one of my other friends would help, but I’d rather not include them in this.”
“A wise decision.” Presley gathered up her diaper bag. “The fewer people who know, the better.”
Presley was grateful to Aaron for making this possible, but she didn’t like the way his role in this kept him front and center of her life. It was hard enough for her not to think of him without it. “Sounds like you’re committed to your decision.”
“This is the only crazy thing I’ve ever done—except get involved with Dylan in the first place. And look how perfectly that turned out.”
Presley smiled despite her concern. Dylan had been the best thing to ever happen to Cheyenne. But that was part of the reason Presley was so worried about the deception. She knew from experience that such secrets weren’t easy to keep.
When Wyatt saw that she was getting ready to leave, he toddled over. He liked Cheyenne but didn’t want to be left behind.
She kissed him as she pulled him into her arms and headed to the door.
She was out front, holding Wyatt while Cheyenne strapped in his car seat, when Dylan arrived.
“Where’d you go?” Cheyenne called as he got out.
“Had to take care of a few things.”
“You came home just in time,” Presley told him, jumping into the conversation before Cheyenne could accidentally mention that she knew he’d visited his brother. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten to see me. Again,” she said with a laugh.
He came over and took Wyatt away from her, tossed him in the air and caught him. “What’s happening with you tonight, little man?”
Wyatt squealed and kicked. “Mo!” he demanded, and Dylan threw him again.
Cheyenne, finished with the car seat, stepped out of the way. “Presley’s borrowing the Prius so she can move a few things tonight,” she told Dylan. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” He gave Wyatt back so she could put him in his seat. “Need a hand?”
“No, I’ll just be puttering around doing small stuff.” She tightened her grip on Wyatt when he said, “Unca,” for Uncle Dylan and suddenly lurched for his idol. “I’ll have it back before morning.”
“No need to bring it back.” He tweaked Wyatt on the nose. “I can walk over and pick it up before work if that’s easier.”
Impulsively, she grabbed her brother-in-law and hugged him as well as she could while holding a baby. “You’re special, Dylan Amos. I’m so glad my sister has you, and that Wyatt has a good man in his life.”
Dylan seemed to be taken off guard. He’d always been a little rough around the edges, wasn’t used to receiving such effusive praise. And she wasn’t the type to deliver it. She’d never told him how much she liked him, let alone loved him. But she felt it. He added so much strength and support to her life. Before Dylan, Cheyenne had been all the family she had. Besides Anita, of course...
“You can borrow one of our cars anytime,” he called after her. Although she could hear the grin in his voice, she was too embarrassed to look back.
“Riley’s a good guy, too,” Cheyenne chimed in.
But, as good as Riley was, Presley didn’t want him. The only man she’d ever wanted was Aaron.
* * *
Getting the rest of her things moved didn’t turn out to be as easy as Presley had expected. Wyatt was usually cooperative about sleeping in his stroller or playpen if they weren’t home, but he wasn’t having it tonight. He wanted his crib, and he was letting her know it. So Presley gave up before she was finished and took him home. She hadn’t accomplished as much as she would’ve liked, which was a shame since she had a vehicle to use, but as a mother she had to be flexible.
Besides, she was tired, too. It was nearly eleven—and yet she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about Aaron and the fact that he’d agreed to help Cheyenne. She wanted to tell him that she appreciated the happiness it would bring and the generosity behind his decision, but she hesitated to dial his number because she wasn’t sure if that was just an excuse to hear his voice.
She picked up her phone and put it down two or three times before she decided to go ahead and say what she had to say. Even then, she would’ve ended the call as soon as she heard the sleep in his voice—but he already knew who it was.
“Pres?”
She winced as the memory of how he’d reacted the night her mother died rose in her mind. Damn caller ID. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, then clicked off.
“Shit,” she muttered, and buried her head beneath the covers, but he called her right back. And when she didn’t answer, he called again. And again.
Finally, she picked up.
“Presley, are you okay?”
“Yes. Of course. We can talk later. I thought you might be up watching TV.” He’d never gone to bed so early before. “We can connect in the morning. Or some other time.”
