Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(66)

Impossible. Dad had loved Mom with every ounce of his being. He’d never cheat on her. Bryce was wrong and I wanted her to stand witness, to hear the truth in his voice when he denied having a daughter.

Dad came into the kitchen, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants.

Bryce slipped in behind him, choosing to stand against the refrigerator. If she was scared, she didn’t show it. If she was doubting herself, she didn’t show that either.

Fuck her. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that I’d grown up with two people who loved one another more than life. That Dad had almost died of a broken heart when Mom had been killed.

“What’s going on?” Dad asked.

“I want the truth.” My chest heaved and I fought to keep my voice steady. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

He stood motionless. Calm. “The truth about what, son?”

“Bryce went to see Amina’s daughter.”

Dad’s eyes closed and his chin dropped.

No.

Dad always hung his head whenever he disappointed his sons.

“It’s true then? She’s your daughter?” A slight nod and I flew across the room, my fist colliding with his cheek. A crack filled the kitchen and Bryce let out a small scream as she jumped. “You’re dead to me.”

Without another word, I marched out of the room. The walls were closing in on me. I flew through the mudroom and burst outside, gasping for breath in the night air.

A hand, gentle and light, landed on my spine. “I’m sorry.”

“She loved him. And he . . .” My throat closed on the words. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t believe Dad had cheated on Mom.

My mother had put up with so much shit from him. And it had cost her her life. Meanwhile, the man I’d loved, the man I’d looked up to, had gotten her best friend from high school pregnant.

Mom and Amina’s fallout made sense now. They hadn’t drifted apart. Did Mom know? Or had Dad kept Amina and his daughter from all of us?

“Fuck.” I stood and walked to Bryce’s car, her footsteps echoing behind.

Inside her car, she didn’t utter a word as she drove away.

I dropped my head, shoving my hands in my hair. “I have to tell Nick.”

After years, my brother and Dad finally had a decent relationship. One phone call and I’d destroy it all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Bryce chanted over the steering wheel. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead. “I thought you knew. I thought you were lying to me and covering up for your dad. I would have handled it differently. I should have handled it differently.”

“You’re not the one who cheated on his wife and just lost the respect of his son.”

Her shoulders fell. “I’m still sorry.”

“Not your fault.” My hand drifted to her shoulder and she tensed. Shit. Was she scared of me? I was angry, but not at her. “Sorry. For earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bryce relaxed. “I always figured you had a temper. And I’m a big girl. I can handle a man yelling at me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

“I won’t.” I didn’t want Bryce to ever fear me. I watched the road as she drove toward The Betsy, but when we got there, she didn’t slow. She blew right past the bar. “Where are we going?”

Bryce gave me a small smile as she turned into the parking lot of Stockyard’s, a bar two blocks down from The Betsy known for its greasy food. “Are you hungry? I’m starving. All I had for lunch were cookies.”





Chapter Eighteen





Bryce





“I like it here.” Dash looked around the dim bar, holding a huge cheeseburger in his hands. “I haven’t been here in ages. It’s so much quieter than The Betsy. Food’s damn good too.”

“So good.” I took another enormous bite of my burger and moaned.

My parents loved Stockyard’s. It was more their speed than a seedy ruckus bar like The Betsy. It catered to the low-key crowd in Clifton Forge with its subtle music and an abundance of tables for people to sit and visit. It was no surprise that, at nearly midnight, the place was mostly empty.

I figured the only reason they stayed open late was because it was the only place in town to serve food this late. They’d probably get a rush from The Betsy soon, drunks looking for a heavy meal to combat the alcohol. And then, of course, they were open to serve the poker players at the table along the back. Seven men sat hunched over their chips as a young redhead with a pretty smile dealt their cards.

Dash’s back was to them, but every ten minutes, he’d glance over his shoulder, throwing a glare across the distance of the room.

“Not a fan of poker?” I asked after another one of his scowls.

“The one in the gray hoodie is Presley’s fiancé, Jeremiah.” He frowned. “She’s probably sittin’ at home alone while he’s here losing money and getting loaded. Guy’s a tool but she puts up with his shit.”

“And I’m guessing she doesn’t like it when you express that opinion.”

“Not much.” He shook his head. “We’ve all tried to talk to her but it always ends in a fight. So now we keep quiet. At least, we will until they actually decide to get married. Then we’ll all gang up on her.”