The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(81)

He nodded, accepting, and it wasn’t an act. He was incredibly patient and unfailingly loyal. Always had been. “So tell me something,” he said.

“What?” she asked warily.

“Why have you never told Mindy about us?”

Oh boy.

He took in her expression. “Am I your dirty secret, Brooke?”

“No, of course not.” She paused. “Just today I told her about our past.”

“But not our now.”

She met his gaze. “No. But only because I’m never sure what the now is.”

He gave a snort, but didn’t say anything more about it. And when he got to their street, he didn’t turn into Mindy’s driveway. Instead, he pulled into his own.

“Is your dad still here?” she asked.

“Last night after you took off on me, he got restless. He left me a note that he had something to do and vanished with Snoop. A fucking note,” he said in disgust.

And then there was what he didn’t say. That once again he’d been left. How had she not connected the dots? She knew Garrett had abandonment issues, deep-seated ones, and he had every right to them. And she’d made them worse at every turn. Her heart actually hurt just thinking about it.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for him,” Garrett said. “I left messages at the campgrounds, at the store . . . I even asked Mark Capriotti to keep an eye out for him.”

“Mark Capriotti?” she asked in surprise.

“Besides being one of the owners of the winery where you just brawled with Michelle,” he said dryly, “he’s a local sheriff.”

There was a grim tone to his voice that had her looking at him. “You think your dad’s up to his old shenanigans,” she said.

He shrugged. “Not sure what else I’m supposed to think.”

Letting his dad move in had been a huge show of forgiveness and strength on his part. But more than that, his clear worry and concern made her chest tighten at the man he’d become. “Maybe he meant what he said. That he simply had something to take care of. Or maybe . . . maybe he just needed a minute.”

Garrett glanced over at her and then drove around the side yard to the back of his property and parked facing out to the valley below. He turned off the engine. “My dad and I . . .” He shook his head. “It’s complicated. We’re complicated. It’s hard for me to think about it. I’d rather shove it deep away and forget it.”

They were on the edge of something here, and she knew it. In spite of what they had done in bed—and in the shower, and on the counter, and up against a wall—they were also friends. Or so she hoped. “Trust me,” she said. “Shoving things down deep isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

He met her gaze. “For a long time, it was all I had. When I was a kid in the system, having visible emotions not only made me vulnerable, but it was actually dangerous.”

She blew out a breath. It was hard to maintain any sort of distance from him at the best of times, but remembering and hearing what he’d been through in his childhood years was a sober reminder that life was too damn short to hold grudges. Scooting closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

With a rough male sound, he pulled her in and buried his face in her hair, reminding her that once upon a time, they’d been each other’s safe haven. It seemed that maybe some things never changed. “I hate that you grew up the way you did,” she whispered against his scruffy jaw.

He tightened his arms and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I turned out okay.”

She snorted. “Define okay.”

A very small smile curved his mouth. “My point is that I don’t need my dad around now,” he said. “It’s too late for us.”

“I disagree,” she said softly. “Maybe you need each other.”

He went still, not moving, maybe not breathing, and she knew she had to be careful here. Garrett hated pity with a passion, and considered empathy and sympathy—at least when they were aimed at him—just as bad. “Have you thought that maybe he’s really changed? Maybe he really does regret not being there for you and wants to try to right his wrongs. And I get that you don’t need that, but it’s possible he does.”

“And it’s also possible that you should listen to your own advice.” And with that, he turned off the engine and exited the truck.

It was a warm but dark evening. Lowlying clouds hid the stars and whatever moon there might’ve been. Ahead of her, Garrett stood, hands in his pockets, staring out at the barely visible valley below. She stopped at his side and adopted his stance. They stood there like that through a few heartbeats before she spoke. “I agree,” she said. “I should listen to my own advice. I came because I needed to clear the air with you and right some wrongs. But I stayed because I also needed to be here. Home. I needed to remember what I have here. And who.”

He lost some of the tension in his shoulders at that, and his eyes warmed. But true to Garrett, he didn’t rush her. Instead he said, “The ER doc suggested a warm bath to keep your undoubtedly sore muscles loose.” He turned to the deck and hit the button to turn on the jets in the hot tub. “This’ll help you more than a shower.” He waited for her to make a move.

She had to admit, the bubbling water drew her like a moth to a flame. Or like any warm-blooded female to Garrett. She stripped out of the scrubs the nurse had given her at the hospital. She stood there in her bra and panties and gestured at Garrett. “Well?”