“And why you didn’t take your shot?” It made perfect sense to me that Preston had never finished his drink that night.
“I don’t want to be like her,” he admitted, “using liquor to numb my pain.”
While my parents weren’t big drinkers, their families were. Family reunions would often devolve into a fist fight or an argument because someone drank too much. It was one of the reasons we didn’t spend time with our extended family. “I don’t know your mother, but from the little bit you’ve shared, I don’t think you’re anything like her.”
“You don’t know that. Today, I went there to talk. But things went left. I got so angry. When she started hitting me, I couldn’t control my rage. I punched a hole in the wall.”
It was the first time he’d mentioned how he’d gotten the bruise on his jaw. “You didn’t hither. Show yourself some grace. You’ve been dealt a blow, Preston. Your world has been turned upside down. It’s okay tonotbe okay.”
He set his glass down on the ground. “I’m not.”
“I get it. Can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Did your mother tell you who your real father is?”
His eyes closed and he let out a slow breath. “No, but my aunt told me who it could be. And when I confronted my mother about it today, that’s when things took a turn.”
“You mentioned that both of your fathers are dead. So, the man who could be your father died too?”
“A few years ago. Apparently, he was a monster. A criminal, an adulterer, a liar…” His jaw tightened. “What does that make me?”
“It makes you Preston Hayes Jr. I know I said I wouldn’t be who I was without my parents, butyou’rewho you arein spite ofyour parents. What they’ve done or didn’t do doesn’t define you.”
He stared at me. “You have that much faith in me?”
“Not really,” I joked. “Just kidding.”
“His name was Parker Wells Sr.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Do you know him?”
“I know his kids.”
He sat up. “Really? How do you know them?”
I explained the connection. Blake’s good friend, Ryleigh, had married Martin Sullivan, who owned a business with Carter Marshall, who was married to Brooklyn Wells. I’d actually hung out with them a couple of times and had even visited Wellspring. “It’s a small world.”
“It is. Will you do me a favor?” Preston asked if I could contact Brooklyn. He wanted to meet with her and her brothers.
I agreed to call her first thing in the morning. “I’ll let you know when I hear back from her.”
He relaxed against the chaise again. “Thanks for this,” he murmured.
I looked over at him and smiled. “No need to thank me.”
“No, really. You didn’t have to open your home to me, let me cry on your shoulder, or agree to help me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I might be unengaged sometimes, but I’m not rude.”
He laughed. “I guess not.”
“Don’t get too comfortable, though, because I might not like you next week.”
Preston snickered. “I guess I should be grateful, huh? Does this mean we’re friends now?”
