Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(45)

He drew his glass to his mouth, murmuring loudly, “She sure handled her money problem, finding that painter to take you all on.”

To take us all on?

In all of that, the only thing he could focus on was Mom handling her “money problem” by marrying Andy?

I turned to Li.

“Out,” I ordered.

She was already exiting the booth.

“What—?” he began.

“My turn,” Liane said. Then to Dad. “Fuck you, Dad.”

His face started getting red.

The server was approaching with his oysters and Li’s mozzarella things, but she peeled off the other way.

“We’ll discuss, and if we decide it will be best, we’ll contact Grandma about maybe going to visit Granddad,” I told him. “But don’t hold your breath. Throughout our lives, they showed us as much love and care as you did. So outside of proving Mom and Andy raised us right, I’m not sure they earned us showing that in return.”

His eyes were darting around the restaurant, even though no one gave one shit about us, and none of us knew any of these people nor would we ever see them again. And even if we did, who the fuck cared?

But he was worried about what people were thinking.

So.

Very.

Dad.

And so very Bryan.

Last, and most importantly, his daughters were about to walk away from him again, and that was what was on his mind.

“Sit down,” he hissed.

Right.

This was my father.

And because it was, before it was done, he got one more thing.

“Heads up, Eleanor might be coming to town to start some problems.”

He blinked rapidly, both confusion at what I said in the context of where we were and also probably despair, because Eleanor was a pain in the ass.

Time to conclude.

“It isn’t that hard,” I shared. “All we needed was love from you. Not money. We needed time. Attention. Love. That was all we needed. And I know it isn’t that hard because Andy gave it to us, and watching him do it, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world.”

His face drained of color.

Maybe it was my words, maybe it was the finality of my tone.

I didn’t pause to decipher which.

I took Liane’s hand and dragged her out of there.

We both got in my Mini and sat there, silent.

Then Liane screamed at my windshield, “He’s a fucking fucker!”

“Honey,” I whispered.

She jerked my way. “God! I hate him!”

“We tried. Okay? It’s good we tried. Yes?”

“Stop being Mom,” she grumbled.

I painted on a smile.

“And stop fake smiling. It’s freaking me out. You look like a Stepford. That was lunacy.” She faced forward and mumbled, “Fucking fucker.”

“Mom’s going to be worried, Andy too. Let’s get you home.”

She said nothing.

I started up the car.

We were on the road when my sister’s voice cracked as she repeated, “Fucking fucker.”

I found her hand.

She held tight.

Oh yes.

She was right.

Fucking fucker.





I drove to my apartment.

Summing up the evening:

Mom was distressed she’d advised us to do something that upset us so much.

Andy was so livid, he eventually went to the garage, and all we heard was him banging on something (Mom said he was making bird feeders to mount around her she shed, and this made sense, since she was a birdwatcher).

Liane bitched and moaned and vowed never to do that with Dad again.

I stayed calm, sipped the wine Andy poured for us before he went off to hammer things, and made absolutely certain my sister had talked it out, my mother knew we were okay, then I headed home.

I parked in the drive I shared with the unit above me.

And I was walking to my apartment when movement caught my eye.

I looked that way and there was Core, wearing a white tee with a black skull design on the front, faded jeans and his black biker boots. He was sauntering my way, his truck parked on the curb behind him, his eyes on me.

His dog was trotting at his side.

Swear to God, he could be a commercial for just about anything—trucks, faded jeans, dog food, crack—and I’d buy it.

When Nanook saw me, he dashed to me.

I was having trouble breathing, but I bent, thankfully my hair falling forward to hide my face while my mind scrambled to find a reason Core was there, and I scratched Nanook behind his ears.

I continued to do this even as I felt Core stop beside us.

I saw his boots right there, close to me.

He let me avoid the fact he was there for a while.

Then he asked, “How’d it go?”

Somehow, he knew tonight was dinner with Dad.

And there he was.

That was when, for the first time in my entire life, I completely came apart.

I wasn’t so far gone I didn’t feel his arms around me or him taking my purse or Nanook snuffling and pressing at me.

He got my keys out of my bag and let us in.

He took me to the couch and sat me on it.

Nanook jumped up and shoved his nose in my face and neck while I sat there sobbing.

“Boy, get off the couch,” Core said quietly.