Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(89)
“It’s not like that,” Wyatt said, finding himself repeating the same words Harley had said. “I haven’t said a word to the man in years; not my lie.”
“And you’re likely to never say another one to him if you don’t man up. You moved his daughter into your house. You’re building a life with her. Don’t you think you need to look the man in the eye?”
“She’s coming back, Mom.”
“No doubt.”
Wyatt was confused, didn’t get what his mother was trying to say, why Memphis and Easton had just turned into his drive.
“Son, I have talked to Garrison every day. At least an hour every morning.”
“About?”
“Life, in most cases. He’s not well, and he knows it. I don’t give a damn about any rumors, any high society, and I’m not sending you there to destroy some house of cards Harley has built in her defense. I’m sending you there because I raised you to be a man. You love this dying man’s only daughter. You’d do anything to protect her. I know that. I’m sure Garrison knows that, too, but a man like him—he needs to hear it. Wants to.”
Wyatt’s stare fluttered over his mother, wondering what those conversations with Garrison and her held, if Garrison ever believed Harley was with Collin. If he didn’t, and Harley kept this game up, she was hurting him instead of protecting him, making it worse. That made him regret not fighting harder for her to see his point.
“You want me to fly up there and tell him I love his daughter?”
“I do.”
“You just said that you know I would always protect Harley. She’s doing all this for that Collin boy, too, for his reputation.”
“I told you this wasn’t about Collin or anyone else. This is about you manning up and telling Garrison that you love his daughter. I don’t care if you go to some party or not. I just want you to have a conversation with the man before he meets the good Lord. You’re not destroying any story. Garrison knows where she’s been.”
Wyatt nodded to Easton’s truck. “What’s with the cavalry? If Garrison knows I’m coming, why do I need back up?”
“I didn’t say he knew you were coming. You need to call him and ask for a conference—once you’re there, of course. And Memphis and Easton, they managed to keep you out of jail last time; figured it wouldn’t hurt to have them there this go ‘round, and they agreed.
Wyatt went to argue his same point once more, but Camille stepped away from the gate. “Your bag is inside my front door. I made sure your dress suits were clean, packed a few other things, too.” And with that, she walked away.
Wyatt leaned back from that fence. His mother looked over her shoulder, then pointed to her front porch, her way of telling her son to move or she was going to move him herself.
Wyatt caught his father’s stare coming from just inside the barn. All Beckett did was stand up straighter, pull his shoulders back, and raise his chin—gestures he always gave Wyatt as he was entering a ring on a wild ride which meant ‘man up, son.’
A million thoughts raced through his mind. Chasing her seemed dangerous, but at the same time he saw his mother’s point. He had built a life with Harley; twenty years from now, he’d be furious if the man his daughter was with hid from him like a coward.
Wyatt walked to the door and got his bag, checked it over to see that his best suits were in there, the ones that he only wore on the occasions he could not get out of, the kind of suit that Collin guy wore like a pro. It should make him feel like a scam artist dressing like this, but it didn’t. It would have if he had gone out and bought clothes for this deal, but this was his stuff. He knew how to walk this line. His mother had instilled southern mannerisms in all her kids at the same time she’d taught them not to fear dirt.
Easton and Memphis never bothered to get out of the truck. Wyatt opened the back door and threw his bag in.
“Both of you are missing work to keep me out of jail?”
The both laughed aloud.
“Not holding your hand, brother. Just support. You’re the man with the words,” Memphis said.
No, I’m not, Wyatt thought to himself. He wasn’t afraid of much, but oddly the idea of talking to Garrison Tatum, telling him that he loved Harley, was causing adrenaline to course through his veins.
Wyatt waited until they arrived in New York, reached the hotel that was not far from Harley’s family home before he called Garrison, all the while wondering if he should at least wait until after this party to say anything, if that would appease everyone.
Harley could play her role, Wyatt could clear his conscience and honor both sets of parents, but nagging thoughts told him his mother would never exaggerate how sick Garrison was. For all he knew, the man would either live minutes, days or years. It would never sit right with Wyatt if he lost his chance to tell him how he felt about Harley, if he lost the chance to promise the man that he’d always keep her safe, that Harley would have the life she always wanted at the Dorans’.
When whoever answered the number his mother had given him and asked for Wyatt to leave his name, his glance met Easton’s, then Memphis’, thinking if he gave them their names, there was no chance for Claire Tatum to recognize it. But the second thought told him that would make him a liar, something he had basically preached to Harley was the worst infraction within a family. He gave his name, hung up the phone, and leaned forward.