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“Yes, so sad.”
“What? That he’s dead?”
“Any end of life is sad, don’t you think?”
“No, not really. At least not that one.” She was trying to get me off track. I recognized her tactic, and I was sure Melanie did too. “We need your help finding Theodore Mathias, my father.”
“It is unfortunate that Theo is your father, dear. But that is precisely”—her voice went lower, darker—“why you need to stay the fuck away from my son.”
My skin chilled as goose bumps erupted on my arms. “What? You just said—”
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Tucker.
I have the results.
Chapter Thirty
Ryan
“You okay?” Joe asked as we were driving back to the ranch.
“Yeah. I’m good. I just didn’t expect it to affect me quite so much.”
“I know. I felt the same way the first time I met Larry. It’s hard to believe he’s my uncle. He doesn’t look anything like any of us.”
“Well, just a half uncle,” I said.
“True. Still…” He sighed, watching the road. “Thanks for coming along.”
“I should have done it before now. I should have been there for Tal.” I shook my head. “My work is important to me. I live for the harvest and the winemaking season, but I put it ahead of my brother. I’m sorry, man.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Believe me,” Joe said.
I appreciated his sentiment, but I didn’t believe him for a minute. Right now, I felt like the lowest of the low.
“Hey,” he continued. “We’ll all appreciate it when we taste that amazing wine.”
“That wine won’t be
ready for several years.” I sighed. “No, I’m feeling pretty fucking bad, Joe.”
“Don’t. Please.”
Please? That wasn’t like Joe.
He continued, “We’ve all been through enough, and it’s not over yet. Don’t invent reasons to feel bad, okay? We have enough real reasons.”
“True enough.” Though I got the feeling there was something Jonah wasn’t saying.
I’d been getting that feeling around my brothers since before we went to Jamaica. I’d shrugged it off as pre-wedding jitters, although they were both so head over heels in love with their wives that I had a hard time believing either of them were the least bit jittery.
We were quiet the rest of the way home. Joe asked if I wanted to come over for a drink, but I declined. I wanted to be alone.
Why? I wasn’t sure.
For some reason, I felt the need to think. About what? Again, I wasn’t sure. “Hey,” I said. “Do you have those yearbooks at your place?”
“No, they’re at Tal’s.”
