Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(73)

How long had it been since he’d walked those steps? On the last one, his foot hovered over the cement of the sidewalk, reluctant to put it down. When it landed, his boot was heavy and sluggish.

Slowly, painfully, Dad walked down the path toward the place where Mom had been. The last time I’d seen him on that sidewalk had been the worst day of my life.

Nick had rushed inside to call him. My brother’s screams had been so loud and frantic, they’d carried outside to the street. I’d knelt by Mom’s body, a scared boy crying and begging it to be a nightmare.

Dad had raced home from the garage. When he’d jumped off his bike, he’d come right to Mom, pushing me aside. Then he’d scooped her up into his arms and wailed, his heart broken.

Our lives broken.

The memory snuck up on me. The pain in my chest was unbearable, making my legs weak and my head dizzy. My arm shot out, searching for something to grab.

I found Bryce. She came right to my side, standing straight. She was my rock as Dad took one last step and dropped his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the ground, then he looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

“You never should have started the club.” Words I never thought I’d say.

I hadn’t blamed the club for Mom’s death. Nick had. But I hadn’t. I’d blamed the man who’d pulled the trigger, the one Dad had promised me had been dealt a cruel, slow death.

Now? Now I wished I’d never been a Tin Gypsy.

“You’re right.” Dad nodded. “I never should have started the club.”

At least it’s gone now.

I let go of Bryce, turning my back on my father for the car.

She didn’t make me wait. She jogged to the driver’s side and got in, reversing out of the driveway and speeding down the street. Dad just stood in the same place on the sidewalk, staring at his feet like he could still see Mom’s body there.

I leaned forward, dropping my head into my hands as I squeezed my eyes shut. My stomach churned. The pressure in my head was overpowering. White spots popped in my vision. The sharp sting in my head was like a dull dagger being pushed slowly into my temple.

Was this a panic attack? Anxiety? I’d never had either, but I was three seconds from puking in Bryce’s car.

“Want me to pull over?” she asked.

“No. Drive.” I swallowed hard. “Keep driving.”

“Okay.” Her hand came to my spine, rubbing up and down before returning it to the wheel.

I focused on the hum of the wheels against the blacktop, breathing deep to fight the emotions. Miles later, when I wasn’t afraid I’d puke or cry or scream, I opened my mouth. “I miss Mom. She was so happy, and damn, she loved us. All of us. Even him.”

Fuck. One tear slipped free and I swiped it away, refusing to let more fall.

“I wish he had told her.”

“Yeah,” I choked out.

“But since he didn’t, I’m glad she never knew about Amina,” Bryce said gently.

Part of me would have liked to see her kick Dad’s ass for it. To leave him and punish him for being unfaithful. But it would have broken her heart. “Me too.”

Bryce drove through town, going nowhere as she turned down one road, then the next. Finally, when I had pulled myself together, I asked, “Would you take me to my bike?”

“Sure. Are you feeling okay to ride?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what that was. Strange feeling though.”

She gave me a sad smile. “Grief, if I had to guess.”

“Never goes away.”

Bryce drove a few blocks until we were on Central Avenue and headed for The Betsy. “Genevieve didn’t have a last name for Amina’s boyfriend. We’ll have to keep digging to find out who he is. If you even want to.”

“You’re assuming I don’t want Dad to go to prison.”

“I know you don’t,” she said. “You want the truth just as much as I do. Someone killed Amina, and that person deserves to be brought to justice.”

“Agreed.” I wouldn’t let that person threaten my family. Nick and Emmeline. Their kids. Emmett and Leo. Presley. They were the only family that mattered now. “How do you want to go about finding the boyfriend?”

“Genevieve didn’t have any pictures because I doubt Amina ever took them. Apparently, she didn’t talk about him much. All Genevieve knew was his name, Lee.”

“Genevieve.” Her name tasted bitter.

I hated her already.

It wasn’t logical, but emotions were gripping the handlebars today. Genevieve was no sister of mine. She was someone I’d do my best to forget was breathing.

“Yes, that’s her name.” Bryce frowned. “Before you condemn her for the actions of her parents, remember that she just lost her mother too. She’s a sweet person. Kind and genuine.”

“She means nothing.”

“She is your half sister, like it or not. Before this is over, she’s going to learn about Draven. About you. Right now, she thinks he’s responsible for killing her only parent. How do you think she’s going to feel when the man who she thinks murdered her mother is actually her father? Take it easy on Genevieve. She doesn’t deserve your anger. She didn’t do anything wrong.”