One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(90)

Ty prowled around him, forcing Knox to pivot in order to keep eye contact. “Bullshit. You did this. You ruined our lives. And I’m sure that was your plan all along. Revenge for Clint, am I right? You have no place in this family. Consider our blood ties broken.”

Granny June tugged on her son’s arm. “Ty, no. He’s family. He’s your—”

“Like Wendell said, he’s nothing to me but a Judas,” Ty snapped.

Eloise’s flask was back out. She held it aloft in a mock toast. “Like you were to Clint, all those years ago?”

“Woman, don’t you dare play that card here, now.”

Eloise drank deeply from the flask, then licked a drop off her lower lip. “Oh, please. It’s time. The rift was more than thirty years ago. Enough with the damn secrets. I kept them for you because I loved you. More than that little whore ever did, but this might be the only way to save our home.”

A tingling started on the back of Knox’s neck. Little whore? Who? And what did that have to do with the rift? What did any of it have to do with the Lux Universal sale? “What secrets?”

Eloise opened her mouth, but Ty thrust his open palm in front of her face. “Stop or I will make you stop.”

Granny June sagged into her cane, tears in her eyes. “No. Eloise is right. Enough with the lies, even though it was for the best, all these years.”

Eloise whirled on her mother-in-law, sloshing liquid from the flask onto her hand. “The best for whom? For you and your precious family legacy?”

“I’m warning you. Stop this now.” Fists clenched, red-faced, and nostrils flared, Ty looked like a bull that was ready to charge.

Afraid Ty might actually physically assault his wife, Knox stepped between them.

“For Knox,” Granny June said. “All of this—the secret, the rift—Tyson and I knew it was best for Knox, and that was the only thing that mattered.”

Knox had just about had enough of them talking about him like he wasn’t there. “Someone had better fill me in—now.”

Eloise pulled her flask from her purse and unscrewed the lid. “What’s your birthdate, Knox?”

“August fifteenth.”

“Which means you were conceived in November. Do the math.”

What the hell was she getting at? “I’ve done the math, so I’m not sure what point you’re trying to prove. My parents eloped on the second of November, right after the rift, and my mom got pregnant with me a couple weeks later.”

Knox wasn’t putting it together, the importance of his birthday and Eloise’s vitriol about that little whore and laying claim to Ty. What did the rift have to do with Knox and what was best for him? He hadn’t even been conceived yet.

“November, hmm? Not December? Have you seen their marriage license?” Eloise said.

No. No, he hadn’t ever seen their license.

Granny June’s color blanched. “It wouldn’t matter, Eloise. Chaplain Roberts fudged the date.”

“Are you’re trying to tell me that my mom got pregnant before they were married? Is that the big secret? I mean, I’m only half-surprised because that helps clarify why they had such a low-key wedding.” And, if they got married because his mom was pregnant, then that helped clarify why they’d never seemed much in love.

Eloise said, “Don’t you ever wonder what the rift was all about? Why Clint and Ty would have killed each other that night if Tyson hadn’t gotten in the middle of it with his shotgun?”

“Of course I have.” A terrible foreboding made Knox’s stomach churn, even as anticipation sped his pulse. This was it. The revealing of a thirty-five-year secret. Eloise was going to tell him what the rift was about. He turned, searching out Emily, and found her behind him, obviously hanging on every word, as Knox was. He took her hand firmly in his. “It’s time for the truth,” he told Eloise. “Spit it out.”

Ty surged forward, knocking Knox and Emily out of the way. “Damn it, woman. Don’t you dare.”

Granny June’s cane came up and rested against Ty’s chest. “I raised you better than this. Get back and stop threatening your wife.”

Eloise gestured to Granny June with the open flask, sloshing clear liquid onto her hand. “Thank you, June. And, Knox, here’s the truth. Thirty-five years ago, in early December, Clint dragged Ty out to a field in the middle of the night and beat him up pretty bad. Probably, he would have killed him had Tyson not intervened, and it’s hard to blame him because it turned out that Linda, the sweet little Christian girl Clint was dating, got herself knocked up on the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance, and Clint wasn’t the father.”

The rush of blood in Knox’s ears sounded like a gust of wind as he was sucked backwards, forced to helplessly watch the scene in front of him as though looking through a long tunnel. He swallowed back his revulsion. “No. Impossible.”

Emily slipped between Eloise and Knox and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Her gaze bounced between Ty’s and Knox’s faces, then tears crowded her eyes. “My God.”

“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” Eloise’s every word dripped with poison.

Knox closed his eyes, unable to bear the truth and horror in her expression. His pulse pounded in his throat, in his ears. None of this was real. None of this was happening. The rift had been about business. Nothing more. Had to be. Knox’s mother was a devout Christian, there was no way she would have … The thought died in his mind, the idea was so unthinkable.