Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)(10)

She hadn’t told her mother yet. After the emotional scene this morning, she couldn’t stomach another round. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Maybe Carly could go with her, or Zane. Someone to help carry the load. Her father was still dead; that hadn’t changed. But the thought that someone had purposefully struck out at him with the intent to take his life was enough to make her want to crawl in bed for a week with the covers over her head.

Everyone in Solitude had loved her father.

Or so she’d thought.

She moved across her apartment, scooting around a pile of boxes waiting to be unpacked. She’d been in her apartment for over two months, but it still looked like she’d moved in yesterday. Should she simply donate the unopened boxes to Goodwill? Clearly she didn’t need whatever was in them. Occasionally she’d go on a hunt for an elusive book or kitchen tool, but she seemed to survive on what she’d unpacked. She pulled the door open as Zane lifted his hand to knock.

He smiled at her and all her worries evaporated. He stepped through the door, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her a few inches to meet his mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he said as he finished kissing her.

“I needed it too.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Not the best couple days. I’m glad I get to decompress with you. Two months ago I’d go home and chop wood or blow out a wall for my cabin expansion. I like this much better.”

“But you haven’t gotten anything done on the cabin in weeks.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the process I enjoy. Once I finish the expansion, I have other updates and renovations I want to do. It’s a hobby, not a goal. Something to occupy my brain and downtime. What do I smell?” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Barbecued shrimp for tacos. Mango salsa. Limes. Maybe some tequila.”

“You spoil me.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’ve made it clear that cooking isn’t my strong point. That’s my mother’s department. And she mentioned yesterday that she wants to invite your father to town for the barbecue and Founder’s Day celebration.” Zane stilled in her arms. “I know he lives hours away, but it’s just for the weekend, and he can stay in one of the guest rooms in her house. It’ll be no trouble at all.” Her words trailed off as she watched the emotions shutter closed in Zane’s eyes. She pulled back for a better look at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

A muscle at the side of his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth before speaking. “He won’t come.”

“How do you know unless you ask?”

“Trust me.”

“Did you two have a fight? Are you not speaking? I was under the impression you got along well with your father.”

“No fights. We’re fine. That’s just not how we operate.”

Operate? “This is your father. You two only have each other, right? Your mom has been gone for over a decade.”

“That’s right.” His eyes were still carefully blank.

“Do you not want me to meet him?” Stevie asked slowly. “Is it too soon?”

Zane unwrapped his arms from her waist and took her hands in his. “It’s not that. We’re not like your family. You guys do everything together. Dad and I just do our own things.”

She frowned. “When did you last see him?”

“Ahhh . . . I think it was Christmas three years ago.”

“Three years? Are you kidding me? Even when I lived in LA I always came home for Christmas. When’s the last time you called him?”

Zane looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. I think before we met.”

Stevie narrowed her brows at him. “That’s horrible. What’s wrong between you two?”

“Nothing! I’m telling you. That’s just how we are. We don’t interact much.”

“I want you to call him and invite him. Maybe he’s waiting to hear from you.”

Zane looked away. “The phone works both ways.”

She realized she’d touched a sore spot and softened her tone, feeling a bit guilty about her barrage of questions. “Just because this is how it’s always been between you two doesn’t mean you have to always walk the same road. If you want a closer relationship with your father, you need to make some steps and keep at them. You said he was older, right?”

“He’s in his late seventies.”

“Oh, Zane. And he lives alone? That breaks my heart.” The thought of Zane’s father living by himself and rarely hearing from his only son stung deep. Not everyone was as interactive as her family, but sometimes family was all you had. She wanted this fixed. Now.

His jaw flexed again. “I’ll think about it. He’s not a helpless old man sitting alone in the dark staring at the phone. He’s very busy with his ranch and community. He’s got all sorts of buddies he talks to. Can we not talk about this right now?”

She agreed but made a mental note to talk to her mother about it. Zane and his father were the only people left in his family. No wonder her parents had half-adopted Zane. Did her mother know something about Zane’s relationship with his father that she didn’t? She realized it was best to let it go. For now.