Page 85 of Hauling Ashe

“Again, that’s between them.” I don’t need to remind this young man that either way, his mother is deceased, and his father is free to conduct himself in any manner he wishes. It didn’t mean his heart felt any more or less for his once-wife.

“He’d had an affair first.” The words hit me straight in the chest, but I don’t want to believe him. I don’t believe him, but a niggling of doubt settles in. Could Tucker have done that? If he was unhappy? If they had been so estranged like he said?

“He couldn’t fight the ghost of my father.”

A sick gleam forms in Jude’s eyes and I wonder if he understands that his biological patronage came from a sperm, in a man who no longer lives, who shouldn’t have been with a near-child like his mother. His dad was the man inside the barn. The one he isn’t defending but attacking with his words. Tucker is the man who raised him, took care of him and his precious mother, and Jude should be grateful. Tucker could have turned his back. He could have told his grandfather to go to hell. He could have been so many other things than this spoiled child’s dad.

“I don’t think that’s true.” There’s no way Tucker felt unequal to his father and I’m confident in my defense of Tucker on this matter.

“She loved him more.”

I scoff. At nineteen, did his mother recognize that a man twice her age with a wife wasn’t in love with her? He’d used her young body for his own purposes and got her pregnant. Working with the assumption Tucker told me everything, as I believe he has, Jude has some nerve assuming I know the truth of his birth. Perhaps this was a test, to see how open Tucker has been with me. Either way, it’s a cruel joke for Jude to speak so openly about something Tucker tried to protect. He did what he did to prevent this very thing from happening—damaging the family name with their history.

He has no idea what he’s talking about regarding his parents, but now isn’t the time to set him straight.

“I don’t think we should be discussing this.” I step left, but Jude blocks me, and the clang of instruments floats out to us. The music fades out and I recognize it’s only a sound check. “Don’t do this.”

I hate to beg or plead with this man-child, but I need to get to Tucker. I don’t care about his son. I care about the man inside about to take a giant risk to his ego and his past.

“Go home.”

“Excuse me?” He has some nerve.

“You’ll never measure up to her. And he’ll never love a…chauffeur.” Jude blocks me further, arms crossed and shoulders back. Tipping his head, his gaze roams up my body and he sniffs with disgust.

This trip had certainly become much more than just me hauling Tucker to California. It had become something larger. I draw a long breath, ready to put this misinformed, spoiled twenty-seven-year-old in his place when my phone rings in my hand. Assuming it’s Tucker wondering where I am, I answer it without thought.

“Hello.”

Owen’s voice cracks through the phone. “Mom. It’s Wy-Wyatt…it’s bad.”

Spinning away from Jude, I take a few steps to the side of the barn. “What happened?”

“He was at work. And the table collapsed. Mom, you need to come home.” His breath falters through each choppy statement.

“Okay. Okay,” I gasp. My hand covers my mouth and fear fills my gut. “Where the hell is your dad?”

“Not here,” Owen’s voice cracks again. Is he crying? Shit. Shit.

“Where’s Pam?” To be honest, she’d do a better job of shepherding my boys through this situation than their father would.

“She’s with Wyatt in the ambulance.” He sniffled.

Ambulance? My stomach cramps around the growing knot in it. “I’m in Napa but let me get to an airport. I’ll take the first flight out.”

“Come right to the hospital, okay Mom?” The panic in his voice along with the sudden sob reminds me of when he was a little boy. He’s struggling with his emotions, afraid to let his fear show, but unable to control being a sensitive boy.

“Okay. I’ll let you know my flight information as soon as I know it.” Hanging up I take only a second to process what’s happened. My children need me.

Spinning back toward the open barn door, Jude is no longer in sight, but I find Brut at the edge of the entrance.

“Mae, where have you been?” A second later, he’s holding both my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not,” I admit and quickly tell him there’s an emergency at home. “I need to go, but I can’t tell Tucker. He needs to be focused on Julia. Please, Brut. He can’t know until later, after he plays for her.”

Brut glances over his shoulder at the men gathered on the low stage. Laughter surrounds them. Tucker needs to be here for his daughter, but more importantly, he needs to do this for himself. He needs to prove to himself that music is still inside him, yearning desperately to come out. It’s an absent part of him he no longer needs to deny. Julia asked him for this gift, because she knows…somehow, she knows he’s been missing this part of himself.

And I need to get to my sons.