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“Because even when he’s on death’s doorstep, he’s still pulling the strings.” Teague looked down at the floor.
What was this power their dad held over them?
If my parents had come back into my life, would I have let them, even after they’d abandoned me? I’d never know. They were strangers to me. I’d lived too much of my life without parents that I simply couldn’t wish for them to be anything to me. There were only times that I’d wondered if I’d taken after either of them. Facial aspects, personality traits. Goals.
There seemed to be some deep-seated need in human nature to have a relationship with our parents, no matter what they did. Maybe it was because we wanted them to be something they weren’t.
Teague had every reason to shut his father out completely. He probably should.
But I respected that there was something in him that held out hope even if it was in vain. Because if we gave up on the worst people, that meant they couldn’t change. That the world couldn’t be a better place.
And if it couldn’t, why were we all here?
“Winston?” Teague motioned over to a man who appeared around the corner.
He appeared uncertain as he approached, like he wasn’t sure he belonged.
Beau tucked her arm in his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for being here.”
Lincoln shook his hand but said nothing.
“I almost waited to call emergency,” he said gruffly, as if he couldn’t bear to admit that. “He’s a crotchety old bastard, but he’s taken care of me for over forty years. Did you know he paid my mother’s medical expenses?”
Teague tightened his grip on my hand. How terrible it must have been to hear that his father had treated people who weren’t his flesh and blood better than he had his own children. How was he supposed to reconcile the man we’d confronted hours ago who was horrible with the same one who paid someone else’s bills?
“You did the right thing.”
Everyone jerked their heads toward Teague. He was a good and decent man. It took a strong person not to spit in the face of their enemy.
“I think I need to sit,” the man said.
I held Teague back as they made their way to a nearby seating area.
“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but I needed to know.
“Not really.” A troubled look flitted across his face. “If my father had a heart attack, does that mean he’s not behind the killings?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Teague
I couldn’t leavethe hospital.
It was crazy. Stupid.
I’d been here for three days and still hadn’t figured out why.
I hated my father.
Was I sticking around to make sure he died?
No.
Even after the way he’d treated me and the people I loved, I didn’t want him to die.
What kind of twisted person did that make me? His strings on me were wound tighter than I knew.
He didn’t deserve to have anyone in a hospital lobby for him. He deserved to be alone.
