The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(103)

“You have . . . you have a lot of dogs, Johnathon.”

“Johnny,” Johnny said tightly.

“Sorry, I . . . we called you that when you were little but—”

“Only Margot calls me Johnathon,” Johnny told her.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Come in,” Johnny invited.

She nodded, climbed the rest of the steps and walked into the house.

As she passed, he got a whiff of her perfume and noticed she didn’t wear the same one.

For some reason Toby felt that was a huge relief.

The brothers followed her.

She was looking around in amazement.

“This has changed a lot,” she noted.

“Have a seat,” Johnny said, moving to the dining room table.

Toby followed.

They sat with their beers.

Margot would have a conniption, their asses in their seats before the lady in the room sat.

Sierra floated into a chair just down from Johnny not having any clue someone in their life taught them manners and she wasn’t getting them.

Her head was turned. “The kitchen seems the same. Except the appliances.”

“It is,” Johnny grunted.

Her eyes came to her eldest. “Are you and uh, Eliza intending to raise a family here?”

“How about we get to the part where you explain why you’re here, Sierra?” Johnny suggested.

She closed her mouth.

For something to do, Toby reached out and wrapped his fingers around his beer.

Sierra watched him do that, she opened her mouth but shut it again, probably wisely thinking better of asking for a drink.

But she did lean into her crossed forearms on the table.

She took her time taking a good look at both of them.

And right before Toby was going to tell her to get on with it, she began.

“You both are very handsome. You grew up so tall. I shouldn’t be surprised. Lance was tall. So very tall. I am too. But for some reason you seem . . . even bigger than your dad.”

Neither of them said anything.

“And you both look a lot like him,” she murmured. “So much like Lance. I don’t see me in you at all. Except,” her eyes drifted to Toby, “you kind of have my nose.”

It sucked, but he kinda did.

“Is you tellin’ us this why you’re here?” Johnny prompted.

She shook her head at Johnny.

“I wanted to explain to you boys why I left you and your father,” her gaze shifted quickly to Toby and she added, “my husband.”

“You didn’t have it good at home growing up, so you were worried about ruining us like you were ruined, therefore you took off,” Toby said. “Is there more?”

“Well, that’s putting it very simply,” she replied.

“So there’s more,” Toby prompted.

“It’s just that, every day, I would . . . think things, and every day I would . . .” she drew in breath and let it out, finishing, “worry. About you boys. About living up to your father’s expectations. He . . . I don’t want to speak ill of your dad, but he expected a lot from me. Too much.”

“Like what? You making two sons with him and then sticking around?” Johnny asked.

Toby was a little surprised at his brother’s question and how he worded it.

Though anyone said anything that could be construed as even a little against Lance Gamble, Johnny didn’t like it.

Toby didn’t like it much either.

And he liked it less coming from her.

“No, he was . . . actually, he thought I was—”

“Beautiful? Perfect? The love of his life? Worthy?” Johnny queried.

“Brother,” Toby said low, shocked as shit he was the one calling Johnny down.

Johnny shut his mouth and his beard ticked against his cheek.

“I’m not sure, you boys being all you are, which was how Lance was, that you’d understand.”

“And what do you think we are?” Johnny asked and kept pushing with, “What did you think Dad was?”

“You’re very much . . . men,” she answered.

Well, you couldn’t argue that. They were men.

“Right, you’re here to explain why that was a problem,” Toby pointed out before Johnny could say anything more.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” she told them. “Expectations like that. For some people, marriage and motherhood doesn’t come naturally.”

“So you give up and take off, is that the key?” Johnny asked. “A note that says nothing and you’re gone?”

“Johnny—” she began.

Johnny didn’t let her get far.

“He tried to find you.”

She pressed her lips together.

Interesting.

“You actively made sure you weren’t found,” Toby murmured.

“I met someone who was, um—”

“Able to buy you a BMW that costs a hundred thousand dollars,” Johnny finished for her. “And he could also help you stay buried so your husband couldn’t find the mother of his sons.”

She straightened in her chair, body language no longer eager and open toward them. This wasn’t going as she’d planned so now she was back against the chair, hands in her lap.