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I sighed. “Fine. But we have a lot to talk about on the road.”
Jonah had fallen back to sleep, so I laid him back in his portable crib.
I understood that Brad didn’t tell me everything. I had no idea what it took to run a ranch—though he employed hundreds of people. Why did he have to work so hard?
Still, I got it. This was his life. His legacy for his son. His testament to his father. It was important to him, and because it was important to him, it was also important to me.
Maybe I should be more involved.
Once Jonah was a little older, I’d learn about our livelihood. I’d be a true partner to Brad.
In the meantime, though, what was going on between Brad and my father?
And why was my mother not getting any?
None of my business, for sure, but she’d brought it up.
I might not live here anymore, but I knew when something wasn’t adding up.
My father was a little off.
And I aimed to find out why.
Chapter Fifteen
Brad
Daphne’s journal still lay where I’d buried it under the covers.
What to do?
Daphne wasn’t sure she even remembered keeping a journal.
Again I felt the guilt of keeping this from her, of reading her innermost thoughts without her knowing.
I was being pulled in two directions. In the end, I laid the book aside and closed my eyes. I’d told Daphne I needed to get a good night’s sleep.
At least that wasn’t another lie.
“Spill it,” Daphne said, once we were on the road.
“Spill what?” Though I knew exactly what. She wasn’t going to let this thing with her father go. Not that I blamed her.
“You know what.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and your father.”
“Don’t lie to me, Brad.”
“I’d never lie to you, baby.” Which was in itself a lie. I’d lied to her so many times, I’d lost count. True, the lies had been omissions most of the time, but still…
“Then spill it. I know my dad. He wasn’t himself at dinner last night or at breakfast this morning.”
Breakfast had been quiet, but for me, breakfast was always quiet. I got up early for ranch work. I was used to sitting at the table with my father and drinking coffee. No talking, except when my mother had said, “Have a great day!” cheerfully when we left the kitchen.
“Daphne, if I knew, I’d tell you. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because it isn’t just him. You’re off too, Brad. I love you, and I want to help.”
“I’m not off, baby. I’ve just got a lot on my plate since my dad died so suddenly. You know all this.”
God, another lie. My dad wasn’t even dead. Of course, I was the only one who knew that.
“I do know, Brad, and I’ve done my best to be supportive.”
“You’ve been great. I know it’s difficult being home alone so often.”
“I’m not alone. I have little Joe and your mom. Belinda. Cliff. All my needs are met. All but the most private.”
Me. She wanted me at home. I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to be at home with her and Jonah more than anything. But their protection was paramount.
My Daphne was so smart and observant. She couldn’t possibly be on the verge of dissociation. Dr. Pelletier must be mistaken.
But he was one of the best in his field. My father didn’t use just anyone for his purposes. He sought out the best people available—and then he bought them.
Or threatened them at gunpoint.
Whichever was necessary.
Man. The thought—which originally had been so abhorrent to me—was starting to seem normal.
What the fuck had happened to me?
I’d actually entertained the notion of holding a gun on my father-in-law yesterday. What if I had? What would I say to Daphne, then?
Another lie, of course.
Lies. They were like rabbits. They bred quickly, one after another, until soon there were so many you didn’t know where they’d all started.
And it became easier each time.
A chill skittered up my spine to my neck.
It became easier each time.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I know. I know you want to be around more. Last night was wonderful…except for the part about my mom hearing the whole thing.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” God, another fucking lie. I’d gone down on her to get her to stop asking me about her father.
“I know. Neither did I. But it was amazing.”
I smiled. “It was. It’s always amazing with you.”
“Brad…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think my parents are having sex.”
I kept myself from jerking in my seat, keeping my eyes on the road. Where the hell had that come from?
“I don’t think that’s any of our business, Daph.”
“Well, it kind of is, because my mother mentioned it.”
“She said that? In actual words?”
“Well, not in exact words, but she implied it.”
“Still none of our business.”
“I know.”
“Maybe that explains what you observed was ‘off’ about your dad.”
“Nice try. The tension I saw was coming from my father and you, Brad.”
