by Taylor Hart
Her heels clicked across the tiled floor. “I know, I spoke to Richard, that’s why we’re going to Charleston.”
Chapter 44
Ryan stared at the television without hearing, without seeing, without feeling. He wore sweats he’d been issued in the military and a white, wife-beater tank top. He hadn’t shaved. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t done his drills. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Food didn’t appeal to him, but he did drink water. Water and scotch. Truly, it had been a great combination to keep the pain at a minimum.
It was kind of funny to Ryan that on the news he and Alan and Richard were being touted as heroes. As national treasures. As the kind of men that could make it through anything.
Ryan opened his eyes and sat up. His head didn’t hurt. He wasn’t too drunk at the moment, but he didn’t feel pain, either.
It was a nice, buzzed feeling. He liked that feeling.
He moved for the bathroom. The way his sweats fell off his hips didn’t bother him. He just held them in place. It was even slightly funny.
Richard had left him alone, for the most part. His maid had quit knocking after Ryan continued to ignore her.
Ryan held to the frame of the bathroom door and steadied himself. Everything Ryan had tried to forget about since coming back from Afghanistan had suddenly flooded him when he’d found out about Sam.
The man who had run away from Hidden Falls. The man who had worked hard to earn his place as captain of the squad. The man who’d killed innocent women and children. He stared at himself in the mirror. And then he spit at it. “You are not an honorable man. You are a coward. You are not meant to be a father.”
Maybe Nathan Love had his problems, but he would never do the things Ryan had.
He relieved himself then stomped back to the couch and flopped face down. He didn’t want it to, but Beau’s face popped into his mind. And Sean’s. And hers.
He grabbed a couch pillow on the floor and turned to his side, pulling the pillow in tight. The memories of her assaulted him like the lashing, searing pain of a whip. Her green, fiery eyes. Her red, soft, wild hair. The way she’d cried when she’d told him about his son. The way she’d sent him away. The pain inside his gut deepened. He gripped the pillow tighter and hung on for the surge of emotion.
Then he thought of Nathan. Of how he’d looked at her with such hate. With such contempt. With such victory.
Ryan pushed the pillow down and sat up. Every part of him shook. She didn’t deserve that. She did not deserve to be looked at that way.
This had been the thing that had sent him down this path. This path of finding a way to numb the pain.
Charlotte.
Sam.
His son.
Of the million thoughts circling in his mind, he kept coming back to one. He had a son. Did Nathan treat him like he’d treated Charlotte?
Ryan thought of the sweet boy. Of the curious mind. Of the willing heart. He recognized it. He’d been that way as a child.
The knock at the door didn’t mean anything to him.
“Ryan.”
It was her.
“Ryan, are you in there?”
Charlotte.
He stood, realizing that Richard had told them all where he was. He moved to the door.
She banged on it again. “I really need to talk to you.”
He hesitated in front of the door. He didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He—
“Ryan, please.” Her voice was softer now.
Ryan unlocked the door and opened it.
Charlotte’s hair was pulled back tightly at the nape of her neck. Deep circles tightened around her eyes. Richard stood behind her in his suit. It was his business power suit with the red tie. He always said red led to success. He wore no expression at all. Ryan knew that, even though there was no expression, the look on Richard’s face meant he would not be ignored.
Charlotte probably wouldn’t have recognized Ryan on the street. His whole aura was completely off—at least, that’s what Angela would have said. His face was unshaven. He looked hazy, cluttered, confused.
That was not Ryan. Even as a twelve-year-old, that had not been Ryan.
She shoved the emotion down the back of her throat. It was not the time to coo and cry. She had come because she needed him. She didn’t deserve to need him, but she had come anyway. She had come because of her son. Their son.
Ryan studied her. “Charlotte.” He pushed back the door and stepped to the side.
Charlotte recognized the slow tilt to his speech. He was drunk.
Richard moved past her and took Ryan by the shoulder. “You need to get a hold of yourself.” His look was severe and fierce and commanding.
Ryan just smiled. “Charlotte can tell you I’m the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree.” He snort laughed and turned to her. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so hard on you about the Scotch, Char. It’s good. It’s mighty good.”
The lower pit of her stomach wrenched in disgust. “You’re not this man, Ryan.”
He laughed, again. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me seeing me this way doesn’t confirm to you that you made the right decision about not telling me we have a son together.” He laughed and then covered his mouth with his hand. “Not to mention the fact that you didn’t want me.”
Charlotte bit the inside of her lip and looked around. Bottles of water and bottles of liquor littered every surface in the room. The mix of open liquors created an incredible stench. The television was on low.
Richard kept his fierce glare in place. He pushed Ryan away from the sitting room and into the bedroom. “We’ll be back in a minute, Charlotte. I’m going to get him cleaned up.”
Charlotte moved into the center of suite. The first thing she noticed, after the smell and mess, was the news channel he’d left on. Pictures of him and Richard and Alan were on the television.
She moved for the huge windows and opened the blinds. They receded electronically into the walls. The view was breathtaking.
Charlotte quickly folded a blanket and gathered water and liquor bottles. She straightened the cushions.
Minutes later, Richard ushered Ryan out.
Ryan was showered, still unshaven, but definitely more sober than before. He wore a black shirt and dark jeans. His eyes were alert. He paused when he saw her. “How nice of you to straighten up.”
Richard glared at him and shoved him down on the couch.
Charlotte saw the way Ryan took one hand into the other and began to massage it. He’d always done that when he had to think. She remembered it on the ranch. He would take off the leather work gloves he used and massage each hand as he evaluated a project. Ryan let out a sharp sigh. “I presume you’re here for a reason.”
A nervous hitch in her side deepened. She didn’t know how she would ask Ryan for what she was about to ask him. And she wouldn’t have. He had to know that she never meant to put him in this situation, but that’s what mothers did. They did uncomfortable things for the sake of their children. Her hands started to shake.
Richard glanced from Ryan to Charlotte. “Why don’t you tell him?”
Ryan did a false smile. “Some other news to drop on me.”
Richard frowned. “Ryan.”
Ryan ignored him. “Go on.”
Charlotte hated being this close to Ryan. She hated thinking about everything that had happened this last week. She willed herself not to look as desperate as she felt.
“Nathan’s going through with his petition for full custody of Sam. I need to get a DNA sample from you.”
Chapter 45
Ryan didn’t know exactly why the cold shower hadn’t completely sobered him, but this piece of information brought him straight back to his senses. He turned to Richard.
Charlotte sucked in a long breath of air. “Nathan’s filing charges against me, claiming that I’m violent and out of control and not a proper mother.”
&
nbsp; Ryan felt like he was coming out of some type of stasis unit to realize the world had continued on without him. “What’s happened with the land?”
Charlotte frowned and looked out the window.
“Charlotte?”
She didn’t look at him. “My mother’s moving out tomorrow.”
A surge of anger stirred inside him.
“The life estate can’t be broken, and the government is ready to take back the land.”
Ryan rubbed the center of his palm.
Charlotte flipped her head back to him, her eyes dry and resigned. “I need a sample of your DNA to prove you’re Sam’s father.”
Richard nodded. “It’s all she has left.”
All the emotions from the last two days circled around him. “Look, you were right. I’m not a good father figure.”
She stared at him like she hadn’t heard him.
“Ryan.” Richard’s voice was soft.
His hands went into fists. “You know the facts, Richard. You know what really happened out there. I’m not meant to be a father. The boy should never know that I’m his real father.”
Richard sighed.
A tear fell down Charlotte’s cheek. “Please.”
“What does it matter? It never mattered between us anyway, right?”
She pushed a lock of hair out of her face and pinched her lips. “Ryan, I’m sorry. There’s things you don’t understand.”
He looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Ryan . . . you said to me before that we could choose our life now. We could choose to be different, to make things different.” She wiped away more tears. “I want that. I want that with you. Let’s do that together.”
He hesitated and then moved for the bedroom. She’d been right not to want him. He would never be the man she needed. They needed. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I don’t know the man that said those things.”
Ryan stood in his bedroom and looked out the window. He heard Richard try to comfort her. Then he heard the door open and shut, followed by the sound of Richard coming into the bedroom.
He couldn’t face him.
Richard exhaled in the doorway. “I guess it’s a good sign that you’re back to your jerk self. Is this the person you’re going to be forever?”
“Richard, just—”
Richard moved next to him. “Someone needs to say it. You’re telling the woman you’ve loved your whole life that you won’t help her keep her son?”
“Our son,” Ryan corrected.
A light laugh hissed out of Richard. “Yes, my friend, your son.”
Ryan could feel the anger coming off Richard. He knew they were on the verge of blows. He braced himself. “Oh, Richard, didn’t I tell you?” He glared at him from the edge of his vision.
Richard shook his head. “What are you talking about? Tell me what?”
The way Ryan shoved him and jumped back took Richard off guard. “If I didn’t tell you, it must not be any of your business.”
Richard took the shove and glared back at him. “You are a coward.” He spoke with a thicker accent.
Ryan thought of their escape. He thought of the gunfire that triggered the bloodiness. “You’re right. I am. I was too afraid to die then. Now, I wish I would have died.”
In three strides, Richard pounced on him and threw him back against the wall.
But Ryan wasn’t fighting.
“Your whole life just walked out the door, and you let her.”
Ryan thought of her telling him to leave. “She doesn’t really want me. She may need me, but we both know I can’t give her what she needs. It’s better this way.” He pulled himself away from Richard.
Richard grabbed his arm. “We are survivors, and I am proud of that. My father survived a war, my grandfather survived two wars. We survived. We would not quit. We would not give up. We lived to fight another day. I am an American. I am proud of that. I am proud of my country. We are men of honor. We did what warriors do—we fight. You are a warrior. You need to fight.”
Ryan scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, my warrior days are over.”
“There are always casualties of war. That is what we were in—a war. A war for our lives. If we had not killed them they would have killed us, and I believe God has a destiny for each of us. He saved us for that destiny. And your destiny just walked out the door. ”
Without realizing it, tears fell down Ryan’s face. He blinked. “She doesn’t really want me?”
Richard slammed him into the wall. “Have you not learned anything from war? She is a soldier, too. She has been through dark times. Whatever demons she has been fighting, she is finally asking for your help. It’s time to deal. It’s time to get past this. For her. For you. Sometimes you fight, even if the only thing you know is that it is the right thing to fight for. You may not understand her, but you still have to fight for her. Because you love her. Trust that.”
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself come back to his right mind.
Richard let him go. “That woman loves you, and she needs you. You can make a difference in someone’s life. Don’t you see that?” Tears welled up in his eyes. He roughly took Ryan by the front of his shirt.
“I just keep thinking—how can I be a father? I killed innocent people.”
Richard shook his head. “No. No.” He took Ryan by the shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. “Our lives were spared and the only thing I know is we have an obligation to make a difference every day. Every second.” He shoved Ryan back and pointed to the door. “If you find out you have a son, you embrace that son. You teach him. You teach him about life. About death. About pain. About obligation, duty, sacrifice and victory. You take his mother that feels ashamed and bitter and has had her own personal hell for her choices, and you love her. A woman that loves you is enough. You help her. You fight for her, and you fight for your family.”
Every part of Ryan shook with the truth of it all.
Richard was right.
Ryan wiped his face. “Man, your longwinded.”
“I try my best.”
Ryan pulled back and heaved in a breath. “I guess I’m going back to Hidden Falls.”
Richard smiled. “I think you need to go to my lab guy first.”
Ryan felt clear, calm, in control. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long, long time. He pulled out his travel bag from the closet.
Richard tsked his tongue. “That’s too bad about the ranch.”
Ryan stopped. “Yeah, it is.” He shoved the last bit in his suitcase and went to the dresser and pulled out his mother’s ring. “Richard.”
“Yes.”
“Could I borrow a little money from you?”
Richard laughed, a full belly laugh. “Now asking for a million dollars—that takes courage.”
Chapter 46
Joe sat next to Nathan. His palms were sweaty. He hadn’t slept well last night. He had gone over the affidavit time and time again. If there was ever a time to get this out in the open, it was now, in front of a judge and a courtroom full of people.
He could just walk it up to the judge, wait for him to read it, and know that it was done. Know that he had finally done the right thing. If he was honest with himself, it was something he’d always wanted to do.
This affidavit was what Charlotte would love about him in the years to come. His brave actions today would redeem him for his silence.
Actually, wouldn’t she see that his silence had been a good thing? Something through which the whole town had suffered and been refined. What was that saying, something about true Christians going through a refiner’s fire?
He couldn’t think of it. His thoughts and justifications were jumbling together in his nervousness.
All he could think of was how he would stand and go to the front of the courtroom and give the judge the affidavit that would put Nathan Love behind bars. Well, at the least it would give him a few years—probably less because he had been a minor and hadn’t ac
tually been awake during the crime, but Nathan knew it had happened. He had always known, and he’d kept silent and let the whole town think Ryan’s father had been the one to kill Caleb. He had let the whole town think it wasn’t him.
But it was. He knew it, and Joe knew it.
Unfortunately, this letter would also put Joe behind bars, too.
That terrified him because everybody knew what prisoners did to attorneys in prison.
It wasn’t a pretty thought. It actually had been something that Joe had tried to shove out of his mind again and again.
His hand shook with the letter in it.
Pain went through his arm.
Joe looked over at Nathan. He had elbowed Joe, and it had hurt.
Joe continued thinking about what would be done to him in prison.
Nathan frowned at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
Joe pulled the shaking envelope out of his hand and slipped it inside his coat pocket. “Nothing.”
Charlotte sat in court next to Richard. Watching Joe Watkins in front of her telling the judge about the way Charlotte had continually mistreated Nathan during their marriage made her want to scream.
She stayed still and told herself that would only prove the point Nathan wanted to make—that she was crazy.
So she sat calmly. She had worn a simple black dress this morning. It was the same dress she’d worn to her father’s funeral. When Angela and Star had showed up that morning to come with her, she’d given in to the tears of gratitude for support. Angela had pulled the scarf right out of her hair and put it as a belt around Charlotte’s waist, saying, “This is not a funeral. It’s not sad, and you’re going to win—I can feel it.”
Charlotte fingered the blue topaz scarf and prayed silently in her heart.
The judge scowled. He read over the complaints before him then turned to Charlotte. “Ms. Love, do you abuse your son?”
“No, your honor.”
“Why would your ex-husband say this about you?”
