Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(30)

“I take it he’s dead?”


“They both are. Daddy died of a heart attack when Quinn was two. Mama lived with her sister in Mississippi after that. She wasn’t in good health. I went to her funeral when Chase was a baby. I haven’t seen my siblings since. I’m the black sheep of the family.”


Hard to believe. Vi McKay looked like a sweet-faced grandma, but there was an aura of tension surrounding her. A tension that Gavin suspected had a lot to do with him. “Why are you the black sheep?”


“I was a young, unwed teenage mother who gave her baby up for adoption. I turned my back on the church I was raised in. Then I married a man my father hated.” She waggled the empty glass. “And I like to drink. It’s taken me years to learn to deal with much of this stuff. But some of it…I’ll never come to terms with it.”


Ask her. Here’s your chance to get answers to all the shit that’s been bothering you since you found out the truth about your birth parents.


But he couldn’t force the words past his tightly closed lips.


“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Gavin, but I’m so happy you’re here. And I won’t push for more than you’re willing to offer. I just…thought you should know.”


“I appreciate it, Vi. This is still overwhelming for me.”


“I imagine it is.” Vi smiled sadly and slid from the chair. “On that note, the rest of the McKays are asking about you and Sierra. Now that you’re settled in, would you consider hosting a get together?”


“I don’t know…that’s not really my thing.”


“I understand. But it’s something to think about. You could have them all over here for a few hours and be done with it. Now I need to get home. I have an urge to bake Charlie a pie.”


“I hate this class.”


Gavin glanced up from Kiplinger’s magazine and looked at Sierra, sitting at the dining room table with papers spread out. Strange to see her there. She always did her homework in her room, music blasting from behind the closed door. “Which class?”


“Anatomy. Why do we have to memorize all the stupid muscle groups? It’s not like I plan to be a doctor or anything.”


“Anything I can do to help?”


Sierra puckered her lips with distaste. “Not unless you wanna take the test for me.”


“Sorry, sweetheart. There’s no way I’m prancing around pretending to be you, wearing sweatpants with Juicy written across the ass.”


“Ooh. You said ass. I remember when you never swore around me.”


“I’d be happy if cussing was the only bad habit you pick up from your parents.”


“True.” Sierra tapped her pencil on her notebook. “Have you heard from Mom?”


Speaking of someone with bad habits… “No. Have you?”


“Yeah. She called me at like three in the morning. Said she ‘forgot’ about the time difference.”


Gavin waited for her to continue, understanding why she’d chosen to study outside her room.


“That’s such a load of bull,” she sneered. “She just doesn’t care about anybody’s life but hers.”



“What did she have to say?”


The pencil tapping grew louder but she didn’t look at him. “I don’t remember. I was pretty groggy.”


This was the worst part of having a teenage daughter: not knowing when to push her to talk or when to ease off and wait until she was ready to talk. He’d given up predicting which approach worked better, because her responses were always mood dependent.


He slowly flipped through the magazine pages, not really seeing the text.


Sierra slammed her notebook down. “Do you know she didn’t ask me anything about how I liked living here? No questions about school, or if I have friends, or if I’m driving. Nothing. She went on and on about how fantastique Paris is. How fluent she’s becoming. How she spends the days soaking up culture and the nights hitting the hottest clubs and restaurants with Vince.” She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around her calves as she curled into a ball. “I hate her.”


Gavin moved to sit beside her, ignoring her closed off vibe, and gently rubbed her back. “You don’t mean that.”


“No, I don’t. It’s just…she’s so selfish.”


He bit back the comment like that’s news, and continued soothing her with the same soft touch he always used.


Several long moments passed before she spoke again. “And wanna know what I really hate? That I know sometimes I act just like her. No wonder I’m not making friends at school.”


Another prickly situation. Sierra became defensive when he offered suggestions or even tried to talk to her about her problem making friends. He didn’t understand why it’d always been so hard for her.


She shivered. “I don’t want to be like her. Ever.”


“You won’t be. I won’t let you be.”


She raised her head and looked at him. “Promise?”