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“I’m fine with it.” He glances down to my chest, and lifts his eyes to mine. “Oh, you don’t trust yourself?”
“I can keep my hands to myself if you can.” My attempt at putting him in his place fails miserably, and he laughs. “Incorrigible.” I huff.
My phone vibrates on the small side table.
Dad
I groan, sending the call to voicemail.
“The dipshit?” Battle asks.
“Worse. It’s my father. He doesn’t think I should be datin’ you.”
He chuckles. “Daddy gives good advice.”
“He thinks I should get back together with Wyatt.”
The playful smile disappears from his lips. “Oh, well then, he gives horrible advice.”
“I told him what Wyatt did, and he still thinks I should work it out with him. It’s all politics.”
“Aren’t most family issues?”
“No, I mean it’s literally politics, pathetic, small town politics. Wyatt’s father is a State Representative. My father wants to run for Mayor when he retires next year. The only reason he wants Wyatt and I to stay together is for Mr. Daughtrey’s backin’.”
He glances up, his warm hand sliding into mine, providing me comfort. “Did he tell you that?”
“He doesn’t have to.” I sigh. Over the last week, I’ve come to terms with the reality that my father’s been playing me for years. “My father plans everything. I’m smart enough to put the pieces together.”
As Battle sits up and toys with the sheet, I assume he’s going to tell me how I’m making assumptions. Instead he provides me with something I want more. Another piece of his life. “My father married my mother for similar reasons.”
“He did?”
“Yep. She’s the daughter of Mitch Wessinger.” He turns his head to me. “You know the name?”
“Of course. I studied finance. The Wessinger – McCoy merger was huge. It gave McCoy Cattle controllin’ market share.”
“Yep,” he breathes and lies back down on his side, facing me. “And all Gerald McCoy had to do was marry Mitch’s daughter, Evelyn, which he did, but he never loved her.”
Life is hard enough when you realize your parents aren’t perfect, but I can’t imagine how Battle felt learning his father didn’t love his mother. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“He was an abuser, not physically, but emotionally, and a cheater. By the time I was twelve, my mother had enough of his gallivantin’ ways, and she left him.”
“That took courage.”
He looks down, an annoyed laugh tickling his throat. “No, that took husband number two.”
“Erinn’s father?” I assume.
He nods. “The asshole took off after Erinn was diagnosed. She was four. Hasn’t seen my mother or Erinn since.”
Life has been cruel to him. Memories plague Battle and have hardened him. He’s built walls to protect himself, walls so thick I’m not sure I’m capable of tearing them down.
“Is that why you and love aren’t on good terms?”
“I haven’t seen
it work out much. The one woman I love is dyin’, so I can’t say my heart’s open to it a whole lot.”
