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The fact that he called my mom irks me some. “Why’d you call my mom? I wasn’t even aware you two knew each other.” From what Reese has told me, our parents had little to no contact when we were in high school. My parents did what they could to help her, protect her, but as outsiders, they couldn’t interfere in what happened in the Hayes’ household.

“I reached out to your mom after my divorce, that’s how I know Reese was at Auburn, how I knew she came back to Horseshoe Bay after she graduated. Her emancipation prevented me from contacting her, an explicit condition I don’t even think she knew about. Maggie kept an eye on her for me, filled me in when I called just so I knew she was doing okay.” He exhales. “I’m not the monster you think I am, but I made my mistakes, and it cost me everything.”

I search his gaze for an untruth, some kind of ruse, but his words are honest, and behind it all, I hear the sorrow, the heartache, the grief. I don’t want to feel sorry for this man. “Why didn’t you ever stop your wife from breaking Reese? Why’d you let it go on for as long as it did?” These are questions that Reese should be asking, but they’ve been burning a hole in my gut for three damn days, and I have to know.

“Before Reese was born, Constance, her mother, was a different person. We were high school sweethearts, and I’d have given her the world if I could, that’s how much I loved her. But never in a million years did I think she’d become what she did. When Reese was born, she suffered from postpartum depression, to the point where she wouldn’t look at or even touch Reese. She refused to breastfeed her, refused to show her any kind of affection.” What the ever-loving fuck? “I didn’t even know about postpartum depression back then, but I sent Constance to a therapist to help deal with her feelings, and for a while, I thought it was working. While I did almost everything for Reese when she was a baby, Constance slowly started trying, and for a year things were better. I thought we’d finally gotten through the worst of it, but the older Reese got, the uglier her mother became. I thought maybe if we’d never had her, Constance wouldn’t have been like that, but that would imply I regret having my daughter, and I don’t. Not for a single second.”

“And you never thought about leaving?” I can’t help but sound incredulous, because hell, who’d put a baby through that kind of hell?

“I thought about it many times, but the part of me that believed things would get better was bigger than the part that wanted to leave. Love is blind like that, Thorin, and no matter what, I loved my wife.”

“More than your daughter, obviously.”

“No, Reese was—is—the best thing that ever happened to me, but the love you have for your child, and the love you have for your spouse are different, something you’ll understand one day. And to be frank, the idea of raising my little girl alone terrified me. My parents died shortly after Reese’s first birthday, and Constance’s parents died when she was in high school. She was raised by her grandaddy, and he was a hard man. When I sent Constance for therapy, it became clear that she lacked that maternal instinct most women are born with. She didn’t have a woman in her life to show her how to be a mother, and when it came to Reese, she had no idea what to do. Shutting Reese out was easier, and being hard on her, the way she was, was all she knew because that’s how her grandaddy raised her.”

I sit back, and let out a heavy breath. When I came here tonight, hellbent on getting answers, this was not what I expected. And, however wrong it was, it makes sense, the way Reese’s mother treated her. Doesn’t excuse it, though.

“And those fat camps her mother sent her to? You expect me to believe you didn’t allow it?”

Walker shakes his head, and for the first time tonight, he looks embarrassed, shamefaced. “I didn’t know Constance sent her until Reese was already gone. She told me she was worried about Reese’s health, and being the fool I was, I thought her concern was genuine, and that maybe, she finally started caring. But after the third camp, when I realized Constance didn’t care at all, that she was just embarrassed by how Reese looked, it was too late. Reese already had it in her head that she was unlovable, that there was something wrong with her, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and when she tried to kill herself, I just about lost my mind. I hated that Reese believed she wasn’t beautiful, or that no one would love her just because she didn’t look like the girls she went to school with. I only understood how deep the damage went when they called us to the hospital, after you saved her life.” He lifts his head, his lashes wet, and wipes his face with a napkin. “I never thanked you for that, for saving my little girl.”

I want to hate this man, I really do, but I just can’t. Sure, I’m angry with him, but I pity him more than anything else. In my mind, it was cut-and-dry, he hurt Reese and didn’t care. But I’m so far off the mark, a blind man can see Walker Hayes isn’t the monster I’d painted him out to be in my head. This man gave up his daughter to protect her the only way he knew how, would I be able to do the same thing if I were in his shoes? “You weren’t the only one who fucked up where Reese is concerned,” I confess. “I blamed myself for that night for years, and it was only until I came back that I faced what I’d done.”

“You love her,” he states. “That much is plain as day.”

“I do, which is why I will do everything to protect her.”

“I’m not here to hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, I had doubts about seeing her again, I was afraid she’d want nothing to do with me, and Lord knows I wouldn’t blame her. But it was Maggie who persuaded me to try.” I’m going to have words with my mom about this. She should have told me.

“You mentioned that you and Mrs. Hayes got a divorce after Reese left. Is that why you sold the house here, and left?”

“Yes. A month after I signed Reese’s emancipation documents, I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew if I stayed with Constance, I’d never have a chance to be part of Reese’s life again, and that outweighed any love I had left for my wife. So I left her, and moved to Dallas. Been there ever since.”

“And why come back now? Surely you know how it looks, given the circumstances.”

“I do, but I had no idea Andre had taken you on as a client until he asked me to take over, he didn’t have a chance to brief me. I don’t blame you for questioning my intentions, either, given the timing of it all, and I won’t lie and say I didn’t see an opportunity. But if this is the only chance I get to be a part of Reese’s life again, I’m going to take it.”

At least he’s honest, I can respect that. “Have you told Reese about her mother?”

“I wanted to give her some time to get used to the idea of having me around again, but I was going to tell her when the time was right. It’s going to upset her.”

Not going to dispute that. “If she’s ever going to let you in and trust you again, she deserves to know.”

I check my phone for the time. It’s not too late, and Reese will still be up. I contemplate how to do this, and decide it’s best to grab the bull by the horns. “You’re staying at the inn down the road, right?”

He nods. “Until your construction is done, maybe longer if Reese lets me.”

Decision made, I stand, and drop money on the table. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

Walker’s brows furrow. “Regret what?”

“Just come with me.” I turn around, and walk out. I spot Walker’s Rover two cars up from my truck. “Follow me to the ranch.”

This can either work out, or blow up in my face, but I’m doing this for Reese. She deserves to know the truth. Walker and I climb into our cars, and I pull out into the street. I have ten minutes before we reach the ranch, so I take my phone from my pocket and call my mom.

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s a little late for you to be calling, is everything okay?”

“Hey, Mom. Everything’s fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”