A Brand New Ending (Page 46)

“Kyle, I have to tell you something. You may get upset.”

Dread coiled in his stomach.

She’d changed her mind. She had made a terrible mistake, didn’t want him in her bed, and wanted the divorce now.

He tried to remain calm. “You can talk to me about anything, baby. Just tell me.”

“I went to see your dad.”

It took him a while to process her statement.

He was so fucking relieved she wasn’t rejecting him, he didn’t know how to respond to her confession. His father?

She hated him as much as Kyle did.

“Why?”

Her breath released into the silence. “Last week, I was driving back from town when I noticed an ambulance at his house. I stopped to check on him.”

He didn’t like the sudden prickle of worry that skated through him. He’d had nothing to do with his father since he’d left. “Did he go to the hospital?” he asked.

“No, he refused to go in the ambulance, but he was pretty sick. He also told me he’d had a heart attack a while ago, so I’ve been worried. I ended up making him soup and bringing him groceries later in the week.”

He’d had a heart attack?

A mess of emotions began a riot in his gut. He hated thinking about his father and everything that had happened between them. He’d learned long ago to get past the hatred and resentment, but now there was just an empty void that had taken its place.

“Were those the only times you saw him?”

“No, I went again today. To check up on him. Bring him food. He’s all alone in that big farmhouse, with no one to talk to. I know he speaks to his sponsors and goes to AA meetings, but the town wrote him off a long time ago, and he doesn’t seem to be trying to socialize.”

“Do you blame them? Do you blame me?” he asked tightly.

“Of course I don’t blame you! But he’s changed, Kyle. He’s talking openly about how he treated you, and how sorry he is. He’s been sober almost a year. I’m not making excuses for him or his past behavior. Neither is he. But he wants to talk to you. I think he needs to tell you some important things face-to-face.”

Pain crashed through him. His hands fisted around the reins.

How long had he ached for his father to acknowledge him? To apologize? To explain the shitty way he’d acted was one big mistake that he regretted?

For as long as he could remember—until Kyle realized it was something that would never happen in his lifetime, so he had accepted it and moved on.

Now he wanted to talk.

Rage replaced the pain. His voice felt as stripped and stark as the trees bending slightly in the wind. “No, Ophelia. I’m not going to talk to him. Too much time has passed. Nothing he says will change a thing.”

“I understand. He asked me to ask, though.”

They walked for long moments in silence. He struggled to move past the conversation but felt stuck.

“Would you talk to him? If it was you?”

Another soft sigh spilled from her lips. “I don’t know. I think so. Bad things happen in life, and people hurt others—even people they love. He’s the only father you have, the only link to your blood. If he’s finally willing to talk candidly, I’d want to hear him out. I think there’s something powerful about being willing to forgive someone.”

He sifted through her words, choosing not to respond. She’d seen firsthand what he’d gone through as a child, knew how many of his choices were based on his crazed need to prove to his father he was worthy. Knew how he struggled with guilt over his mother’s death. A psychologist would have a fucking field day with his family issues, but he’d worked through many of his demons by writing—and talking to Ethan and Ophelia and their mother. That support system had made all the difference.

“Are you going to see him again?”

“Yes. Just to check on him.” She cut him a glance. “Unless you tell me not to. I’d never want to hurt you like that.”

“Thank you.” He reached his hand out, and she took it. Fingers entwined, he squeezed hers tight. It would be easy to tell her to stay away from his father, but there was something in her tone when she spoke about him. As if it were important to her to keep seeing him. “Do you want to see him again, or do you just feel guilty?”

She scrunched up her nose, pondering the question. “Both. He’s finally accepting help and being nice. But it’s more than that. He shares more of his story each time I’m there, and I can see how he wants to be different. I feel like I should continue to encourage that.”

The words stung, but he nodded. Ophelia had a gift with people—a way to make them feel important and cherished.

It was one of the things he loved about her, and he wouldn’t ask her to hold back. Even from his father.

“Then I’d never ask you to stop.” He forced a grin. “You were always the nicest out of our group.”

She made a face. “Nice is the worst adjective ever. I’m not nice. I was the one who talked you and Ethan into painting graffiti on the college sign.”

He groaned. “God, I’d almost forgotten about that. Judge Bennett handed us both our asses, and when he asked you if you’d been involved—”

“I said you guys were too crazy for me and walked away.”

“You left us hanging. We had to scrub that sign with a Brillo pad on a Saturday in one-hundred-degree weather.”

She laughed. “I kept you company.”

“You hung out eating an ice-cream cone, directing us where to scrub harder!”

“Told you I’m not nice.”

He laughed, and their hands fell apart.

Sunlight leaked through the branches and turned her hair to fire. A smile rested on her full lips, her body at ease on Flower. She had surrendered to the gentle rocking motions, heels firmly hooked in the stirrups.

His heart ached as he looked at her, the melding of past and present, child and woman. Harper was right. Ophelia was calmer now. There’d always been a zest and mad energy throbbing in her veins. She’d dash about, ready for the next event or adventure, throwing her entire being out to the world. Now there was a graceful restraint. A quieter sort of happiness that was sensual in the way only a confident woman could be—one who knew her body and mind and accepted herself completely.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said quietly. “The way you are with the guests is a humbling experience. The way you give so much of yourself. Your mother would be so damn proud.”

She jerked in the saddle, then met his gaze head-on. Those blue eyes turned misty, like the color of smoke, and trapped him helplessly under her spell.

The horses muttered softly, sensing the sudden awareness in the air. His entire body throbbed with anticipation, ready to drag her off that horse, shove her against a tree trunk, and kiss her until his mad lust was finally sated.

She smiled. “I loved running the inn together. She taught me so much. Oh God, how we laughed and complained and giggled together! It was a special time for me, being that close to my mom.”

He let his thoughts wander awhile, then asked the question that had been burning inside him. “Do you regret it, Ophelia? Leaving with me? Marrying me?”

Her gaze nailed him, blue eyes flaming with intensity. “I’ve never regretted running away with you. Everything brought me back to where I belonged.”

Pain slapped through him. He barely caught his breath from the hit. “I always thought we belonged to each other. That being together was our safe place.”