Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(17)

Only now could she even begin to understand the true fire-and-gasoline dynamic of having an alcoholic father and a histrionic mother. It was a destructive relationship in every way.

But there were a few good memories—like her sixth birthday when he’d surprised her with a trip to Cleveland, Georgia, to buy her a Cabbage Patch doll. She’d wanted one for Christmas. All of her friends had them, but the stores couldn’t keep them on the shelves. Knowing her disappointment, Daddy had taken her to Babyland General. She’d seen Mother Cabbage beneath the Magic Crystal Tree and watched the birth of the cabbage babies. She even got to pick the one she wanted. After signing the oath of adoption for Zora Mae, she took her doll home. It was one of her fondest childhood memories, and she still had the ugly damned doll.

Nikki opened her eyes and reached out her hand, forcing herself to touch him, but recoiled at the contact with flesh that was as hard and cold as stone. Her throat grew thick, her vision blurred, and her chest ached with raw regret. He was gone, and only this frigid, hollow shell remained.

She fingered the tattered letter in her pocket—his last words to her, which she’d nearly memorized. It was written in a shaky, near-illegible scrawl and filled with excuses, apologies, and pleas for forgiveness. Words penned following five years of sobriety. They both opened and salved the old wounds.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, so very sorry. I never gave you a chance to make things right when you tried.”

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. It could have been a minute or an hour, or anything in between. When she thought she’d lose it altogether, when she longed for a strong shoulder to lean on, Wade was suddenly there beside her.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss.”

His deep voice and solid presence offered comfort that she was almost desperate to claim, yet she held back. “What loss?” She almost choked on the lie. “I hardly even knew him.”

His big warm arm came around her. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” she sniffed. She never talked about her screwed-up family. “You don’t want to hear about my childhood any more than I want to talk about it.”

“Sometimes it helps just to get it out, Nikki. When did your parents split?” he gently prompted.

“Before I started first grade. When I was a kid I didn’t understand why Daddy packed up and moved out. When I asked my mom, she just said he was a drunk and a cheater, and that he never loved us, which was why he was never around.”

“She said that?”

“Yup. ’Course, I didn’t understand what it all meant. I was only seven, but the truth is that his work took him away for weeks at a time—and she was the cheater.”

“Did he know that?”

“Yeah, after a while. It’s why he finally walked out. My mom was already pregnant before the divorce, which meant she’d been stepping out on Daddy for quite some time. I was too young to put it all together at the time, but I did later when I discovered Shelby’s birth certificate.”

“Shelby?”

“My sister. Well, half sister. Her father was my first stepfather.”

He looked surprised. “First? How many did you have?”

“Three. They were all pretty much the same—drinkers and freeloaders—just different names and faces. It was the type my mom was attracted to. She was a real magnet for losers.”

“Shit, that musta really sucked growing up like that.”

“Yeah. It did. I left as soon as I was old enough. Packed up the day after my seventeenth birthday and moved in with MeeMaw and PawPaw.”

He smirked. “MeeMaw and PawPaw?”

She frowned back at him. “My grandparents.”

“The ones with the chicken farm?”

“Yes. They’re the only reason I didn’t self-destruct. Some of my best memories are from those couple of years at the little farmhouse. I might have stayed on indefinitely if not for PawPaw’s heart attack. He never recovered and MeeMaw had to sell the farm to pay for his medical bills and nursing care.

“She had a stroke shortly after that. They died within months of one another.” She rubbed her eyes and sniffled. Her throat felt terribly raw.

Wade’s arm tightened around her. “That happens a lot when couples have been together a very long time like that.”

“I miss them, Wade. They were good people and did what little they could to be a stable influence. After they passed, I was pretty much on my own. I went a little wild for a time… I made a lot of stupid mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes,” he said with a sympathetic look. “The trick is to learn something from ’em.”

She sighed. “Well, that’s just rubbing salt in the wound, ’cause I keep making the same ones over and over.” She refused to acknowledge that the big warm cowboy beside her might be another one ready to happen. “So you see? I still don’t even understand why I came here. He didn’t even raise me. I hardly saw or spoke to the man for over twenty years.”

“It still hurts though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she confessed. She’d tried to deny the welling of emotion, but he must have seen it in her face. “I keep thinking it shouldn’t, but it still does. Am I irrational? Have you ever experienced that?”