Page 7 of Love, Lies, and Whiskey

Anger drew Doc’s shoulders back, his voice rising. “A few weeks ago, and you didn’t think you should tell me?” Sadie popped up on all fours, watching them.

“It’s not my job to manage your personal life. But what if I had told you?” His father stepped closer, his dark eyes challenging. “You’d’ve been a fucking mess, and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing about today.”

“You don’t know that,” Doc fumed, his chest puffing out.

Cowboy stepped between them. “Whoa, Doc. He’s right. The mention of her name has always set you off.”

“There’s no shame in that, bro,” Dare added too damn supportively. “I don’t know all of what went down back then, but I know enough. The way her father treated you would piss anyone off.”

Doc clenched his teeth, his fingers curling tighter around his helmet.

His father put a hand on Cowboy’s shoulder. “Move aside, son.” Cowboy stepped out from between them, and his father said, “She inherited her grandmother Hazel’s estate. She’s living in Weston with her boy and working for Jade.” Jade Braden was one of Hal’s daughters-in-law.

She’s back for good? Hazel is dead? The world spun, conflicting emotions pummeling him. He was furious that Juliette was back, but he was also gutted for her. She had been closer to her grandmother, who had bred horses for a living, than she was to her own mother. He hadn’t seen Hazel since that long-ago summer, but they’d spent so much time with her, she’d left a mark on his heart, too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dare asked.

“I’ve got nothing to say.” Doc plowed past them, heading for the porch.

Cowboy grabbed his arm. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Locked in a stare down with Cowboy, he yanked his arm free. “If you stick around, I’ll be giving our old man a different answer to his initial question.”

“A’right, boys, clear outta here,” his father ordered.

“I don’t think we should leave,” Dare said.

“Then stop thinking and get your ass on that bike,” his father said, climbing onto his own motorcycle.

Cowboy gritted out a curse, but he and Dare reluctantly got on their bikes. As they drove away, Doc headed up the porch steps with Sadie in tow.

“Seeley John,” his father said sharply.

Doc’s gut roiled. He steeled himself, readying to be chewed out, which he probably deserved for being a prick. He turned, lifting his chin. “Yeah?”

His father’s eyes narrowed, studying him the way he’d done Doc’s whole life. Like he could see right through the bullshit, through the fucking lead walls Doc had erected around himself, to the very root of his pain.

Doc swallowed hard, knowing his father was one of only two people who actually could read him that accurately.

His father took a deep breath, blowing it out as he nodded, as if he understood every damn thing going on inside Doc’s head and heart. But how could he, when Doc didn’t even get it?

“You do what you have to tonight, son, but you do it knowing we love you, and we’re here for you. The whole damn brotherhood is here for you. I had to put my foot down to keep Ezra, Rebel, Hyde, and Taz from showing up here.” His cousin Rebel and their ranch hands Hyde and Taz were all Dark Knights. “But if that burden gets too heavy, you make a call. Ya hear?”

Doc gave a curt nod, his throat thickening.

As he and Sadie headed inside, his father’s engine roared to life, fading as he drove away. Doc put his helmet and keys on the table by the door and went directly to his bar. Sadie stuck to him like glue as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey, opening it on his way out the back door.

He took a swig as he sank into a chair on the deck overlooking the creek, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

Mighty and Pickles bounded onto the deck.

Doc petted them absently, taking another long pull of whiskey. He looked up at the sky. “What the fuck are you doing?” He wasn’t a religious man, and he didn’t know if he was talking to the universe or to himself. But it didn’t matter. Nobody answered him.

Tipping the bottle again, he welcomed the warmth spreading through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he drank himself stupid, but tonight he was determined to speed through stupid and crash into numbness. He swallowed another mouthful and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gripping the neck of the bottle.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the creek and crickets and the rustling of leaves, rather than the ghosts of his past rattling the chains he’d used to keep them at bay and hissing in his ears. But his futile attempts were squashed as memories slammed into him.

He was back at college in Fort Collins, unable to concentrate on anything other than seeing Juliette and convincing her father he was making a horrible mistake. It had been two weeks of unanswered calls and texts, and fighting with everyone. He’d begged his father to get the club involved, to shove the governor’s threats down his fucking throat. But the governor was a powerful man with a history of ruining anyone who stood in his way, and Tiny wasn’t willing to risk everyone’s future or the future of the ranch. Most importantly, Tiny had said he wasn’t willing to risk Seeley’s reputation. That it wouldn’t matter if the governor was lying or not. Those were the types of accusations that followed a man like a shadow.