"This has gone too far." I slam the papers down on the counter. "You need to tell me what you know. What really happened between you two? This isn't just about land or business. I heard what he said in there. About Maya, about you trying to take her from him."
My father's hand tightens around his glass. "That ain't?—"
"Don't." I cut him off, my voice sharper than intended. "Don't brush me off. Not this time. I'm not a kid anymore, and Asha is my wife. Whatever history you two have, it's affecting my marriage now. I deserve to know."
He studies me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he lets out a slow exhale, and I feel its weight.
"You're right," he admits, surprising me. He picks up the bourbon bottle again and pours another finger into his glass. "You deserve to know. But it ain't a simple story, son. And it ain't all mine to tell." He swirls the bourbon. "I keep my word. And I gave it away a long time ago." He pauses, his jaw working. "I ain't keepin' Warrick's secrets. I'm keepin' hers. It's her secret that haunts him, that owns his fear."
He takes a slow sip, his weathered hands steady on the glass.
"And as much as that man gets under my skin, I leave it alone because I understand it," he says, his voice heavy with something I can't quite name. "Once you know his fear, you can't unknow it." Then, lifting his eyes to mine, he holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my chest tighten. "And you'll share it."
His words settle over me like a death sentence. Whatever Warrick Fairfield is so desperately trying to hide, whatever drove Maya to make my father swear his silence, it's the kind of truth that doesn't just change everything. It destroys it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ASHA
"Are you going over there now?" Trigger asks when I step outside. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"No, it's fine. I'm not scared of my dad." Even I don't believe the words coming out of my mouth.
Then, the way he pulls my chin to him so I can't hide confirms he doesn’t either. "Then why do you sound like that?"
I roll my eyes and release a long, controlled breath. "I put pressure on my father, pushed his buttons because I wanted answers. Now that I might get them, I'm questioning everything. His confrontation here the other day, and the one you overheard at your father's place… I don't know, maybe he was right, and some things need to be left in the past."
"So what are you going to say to him? Are you going to ask about your mother and what happened, or do you want to call a truce?"
Trigger told me about his father's relationship with my mother, how our families were friends, and Baylor's parents and my mother's parents hoped for a union between my mother andhis father, but they never saw each other romantically. However, they were really good friends.
The way Baylor tells the story, my father was intimidated by that friendship. He didn't think men and women could be friends. In his eyes, one, if not both, always hoped to gain something more out of the relationship. My memories of my mother are fading, and my father's refusal to talk about her doesn't help keep them alive. But the woman I do remember was kind; she wore her heart on her sleeve and taught me to be brave, fierce, and loyal. It's that last trait that had me blindly trusting my father, believing that the people who love us the most will never hurt us, but that's just not true.
"A truce would be nice, but I know history will repeat itself if I don't get the answers I seek. I'll be happy until I'm not. It just sucks feeling like I may never look at my father the same, that I may lose him altogether."
"You don't have to lose him just because you learn a truth you don't want to hear. It just might take time to forgive him," he says, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead.
"How do I forgive someone who might be the reason my mother is gone?"
"We don't know that."
"Don't we?" I step back and run my hands through my hair. "What secret could possibly drive my father to try to break up our marriage and bankrupt your family if not one that could put him behind bars?" My eyes snap to him. "Your father said,Not only do I know where the bones are buried, I know the stories they tell."I throw my arms wide. "What the fuck else could that possibly mean?" I say, practically yelling now.
His face drops as he takes a deep breath. "I don't know, but let's say you're right, that would mean my father is covering up a crime, and while you don't know what to believe about Warrick,I don't think my father would do that, especially after hearing about his friendship with your mother."
I sigh as the tension in my body eases down a notch. He's right, or at least I think he's right. Baylor wouldn't cover for my father, and if by some chance he was, I think the threats my father hand-delivered the other day would push him to his breaking point, and he'd do something about it.
"I have to do this. I saw things going differently when I started this war with him. I thought he'd see he can't control me, that he can't keep me in the dark, that I'm not the little girl he sent away all those years ago. I knew marrying you would get under his skin, but I hoped he'd also see that I get to decide what I want, that my choices are mine and mine alone. And when I chose to ignore his invitations to talk, I saw him coming through my front door with an apology and a truth because the alternative was a future without me." My voice cracks with emotion. I know my father can be ruthless; he's built a damn empire. But I thought when it came to me, I wouldn't be just another transaction.
When he wraps his arms around me and just holds me, I fall more in love with him. It's what he did the first night I asked him to kiss me, and he's never stopped. For all the hell my father has put us through, Trigger has always let me lead. He doesn't pile on his own frustrations or opinions about my father, because he knows the weight I'm already carrying is enough. If anything, he defends him, and I hate it. Sometimes you just want someone to validate your anger, but I know why he doesn't. He understands how important my father is to me, even when I can't see it myself. I might be quick to burn it all down, but he's not. He holds me steady.
"I don't want you to worry. Laney is going to be there, so if for some reason things do go south, I won't technically be alone."
When I agreed to meet with my father, I set a condition: I wanted to get things out of my room.
"Sweetheart, I'm not worried." He pulls back his hands framing my face. "I'll become your father's worst nightmare if he so much as puts the look of hurt in your eyes." His eyes search mine with an intensity that promises retribution. "You're mine to protect now."
The words hang between us, heavy with promise. Then he closes the distance, capturing my lips with a desperation that matches the fear I've been trying to hide. I melt into him, my hands sliding around up his sweat-riddled chest, as if he can somehow transfer his strength directly into my bones. It's not gentle; it's a vow, a brand, a reminder that I'm not alone in this.
