"Doesn't it?" His gaze holds mine, intense, almost challenging me to read between the lines. The string lights flicker above us, casting shadows across his face. "Being with Warrick would hurt Asha," he finally says. Then he nods towardthe table, where I can see Laney's silhouette against the patio lights. "Laney's waiting for her drink."
As I watch him walk away, I hear the words he didn't say loud and clear:What Asha doesn't know can't hurt her.
London doesn't have the answers any more than I do. But he never flat-out denied it's a possibility, and that silence speaks volumes. I've left it alone and kept my now-wife in the dark about my suspicions for over a year, but keeping it to myself even if I don’t have proof feels like a betrayal.
Silence isn't love. Secrets are just the truth waiting for their moment to surface.
Maybe Warrick's secrets aren't as dark as Asha believes. Perhaps this war has nothing to do with control or manipulation at all. People do fucked-up things in the name of love, things that look like deception from the outside but feel like survival from within. If I'm right, it's possible Warrick has kept Asha busy, deflected her questions, danced around the truth, not because he wanted to deceive her, but because he didn't want to lie. Because once you say it out loud, there's no taking it back.
How the hell is he supposed to tell his daughter he's sleeping with her best friend?
"What can I get you?" The bartender sets a napkin in front of me, professional smile in place.
"Whiskey neat and an Aperol Spritz."
He nods, already reaching for the bottles.
"There you are."
The voice comes from directly beside me, too close, too familiar, and my entire body goes rigid. I turn, and she's right there, invading my space like she has every right to it. Blonde hair and big blue eyes are locked on mine with an intensity that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Cassidy Miller. She's a local. Her father owns a tack shop in town, so our paths have crossed many times, and she'snever been shy about her interest in being more than just acquaintances.
"I've been lookingeverywherefor you, Trigger Hale." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "We need to talk."
"What about exactly?" I ask, unsure where all this is going.
"Bourbon Trail, five months ago…you ran into me in the parking lot…" My brow furrows as I try to recall spending any amount of time with her outside of the occasional run-in at the tack shop. That's when my eyes drop involuntarily, and slight panic starts to set in.
She's pregnant. Visibly, unmistakably pregnant, maybe five-six months along, and the fitted dress she's wearing does nothing to hide the swell of her belly. My brain scrambles to make sense of what I'm seeing, timelines, and her words.What the hell is happening?
"Are you trying to tell me…" The words die on my tongue. I can't even get them out. How is this even possible? My hand covers my mouth. If I don't say the words, they can't be true.
"Yeah." She rubs her belly. "I know it seems far along, like I should have told you sooner, but honestly, I wasn't sure how you'd react, and I knew I was keeping my baby no matter what."
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need..."
My feet carry me of their own accord. I wind through tables, past clusters of people whose conversations blur into white noise. I don't stop until I reach the fence line at the edge of the property, where the manicured lawn gives way to pasture. My hands grip the top rail, knuckles going white.
I can't breathe. My chest is tight, constricted like someone's tied a rope around my ribs. The horizon tilts, and I feel like I might actually pass out.
Five months ago. The Bourbon Trail. I was there. We were all there. I got shit-faced because Asha was thoroughly icing me out, and then I proceeded to flirt with the bartender. I don'tremember seeing Cassidy; my focus was on Asha all night until I couldn't take it anymore and left the bar. The problem is, while I don't remember leaving with Cassidy, I have a fuzzy image of a blonde with a familiar voice in my truck.Fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRIGGER
"Trigger." Her voice behind me makes my shoulders tense. She followed me. Of course she followed me.
"I need you to leave," I manage, still gripping the fence. "I need... I need to think."
"I know." Cassidy's footsteps stop a few feet away, giving me space but not leaving. "I know this is a lot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ambushed you like this. I just... I didn't know how else to tell you."
My hands slip from the fence, and I turn to face her fully. When I do, the evening light catches the tears gathering in her eyes.
"I didn't come here to ruin your life," Cassidy continues, her voice wavering. "I came because you deserve to know. Because he deserves a chance to know his father, even if his father doesn't want anything to do with him."
"That's not..." I start, but what can I even say? I don't know what I want. I don't know anything right now except that my entire world was just turned upside down.
