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“Your morals, Dixie. They get in the way,” he says, and he gets to his feet and takes the plant to Danny. “Put this one in a pot immediately. Get it some water.”
“Dad,” I mumble, tagging along. I’m stunned. Completely flabbergasted at what I’ve just discovered. My dad and brothers were secretly growing drugs in here.
“Tell me why, please,” I say.
“What’s there to tell?” he replies, immediately directing his attention toward Ben. “Go see if you can salvage any more of the plants.”
Ben nods and leaves us alone.
“Is the farm not enough?” I ask.
“No. Yes … but not for me. Not for us,” he says, pointing at me. “I wanted more for you. More for your brothers.”
“I never asked for more,” I say, making a face.
“I don’t need you to ask for anything,” he replies. “That is what family means. You take care of your family. You give them everything you have. Blood. Sweat. Tears.” He plucks another half-dead plant from the ground and dusts it off. “This is how I take care of my family.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat. It’s the first time in years that he actually admitted to caring for us and wanting the best for us. Even if it means sacrificing what’s good. I guess that’s the only way my dad knows how to do things. All or nothing. Do or die.
I can only admire his tenacity although I know it’s morally wrong according to society. But the world isn’t black and white. Not everything is right or wrong. There’s nuance, a middle ground.
And I can appreciate that he finally told me the truth. Even if it’s a little too late.
“So are you gonna help us clean up?” Dad asks.
I nod and pick up a pot and a half-burned plant from the ground.
It’s the first of many to come. As my dad always says … family first.
I don’t feel guilty. Far from it.
In fact, the only thing I feel right now is anger.
Because on the ground next to the burned down potted plant, near the edge of the farmhouse, I find a Zippo lighter.
I’m pretty sure I know how this fire started.
Brandon Locklear.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brandon
Present
That was the night my whole life changed … but hers too.
We both lost something that night. Part of our soul. Our innocence.
And why? Because of fucking drugs.
And now I’m finding out my uncle bought them from the Burrells too? This can’t be true, can it?
I frown. “Why would he …? Fuck. Of course, the hotel.”
“His guests probably pay double if not triple the price we ask,” Dixie says, voicing my exact thoughts. “So now you know.” She turns her head and gazes at the window even though the curtains prevent her from seeing out.
I never knew my uncle did that. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering his line of business, and that horrible thing he made me do to the Burrell twins.
“We were just trying to make a livin’ all right?” she suddenly adds with tears in her eyes. “Who are you to judge?”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“Of course you aren’t,” she says, but I’m more surprised by the fact that she cares about what I think.
I grab her chin and make her look at me. “I don’t care what you and your dad do.”
She swats my hand away, and says, “I know you don’t. That’s the whole reason the farmhouse burned down in the first place.”
Reminding me of what I did is a bitter pill to swallow. I won’t pretend I was a knight in shining armor. I said and did some horrible things to her, and nothing will ever change that.
Nothing.
* * *
Dixie
“That night never should’ve happened,” he says, licking his lips. “In fact … we should’ve never happened. I wish I’d never set my eyes on you in the first place. Wish you never spoke to me with that sweet, sinful voice of yours. Wish I never got to kiss those dirty lips of yours.”
My breath hitches in my throat.
Sweet, sinful voice? He’s never said that. And why are my cheeks suddenly heating? Fuck.
“Is that what you want me to say?” he adds.
“Sweet, sinful voice?” I say, raising a brow, trying not to sound sheepish.
His lip twitches to almost form a grin. Almost, but not quite. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh, please elaborate,” I muse, cocking my head.
For some reason, our bodies are closer than we were a few minutes ago. It’s as though we’re hovering toward each other even though we both know better than to repeat that mistake.
Suddenly, his phone rings, breaking the spell.
He leans back, clears his throat, and then snatches his cell phone off the counter. His fingers hover over the green button to accept the call. All he needs to do is push.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he waits until the call ends. Then he goes into his contacts, blocks the number, and throws the phone back onto the counter. The name at the top clearly said Josiah.
