The impact jarred Hank’s teeth. Gil was a lot more solid than he looked…and he’d been in way more fights. As they slammed onto the hood of the Charger, Gil rolled with their momentum and shoved, sending Hank flying off the other side to crash onto the pavement.
Fuck! He scrambled up, clutching his elbow over the tear in his jacket.
Gil was already standing on the other side of the car, his breath ragged. “I told you I wasn’t your friend.”
“That’s your excuse?” Hank circled the front of the car, but Gil mirrored the movement, keeping the Charger between them. “It was okay to lie to me as long as you didn’t pretend to like me?”
“I never lied.”
Hank banged a fist on the roof of the car. “Screw that bullshit! Who else, Gil? Wyatt and Melanie for sure. Who else? Did everyone around that dinner table today know except poor stupid Hank?”
“Just me.” He didn’t add Melanie and Wyatt, but they hadn’t been at dinner, and Gil was an ace at this game of not-quite truths.
“Why did you bother? If you’d left me alone, I wouldn’t have come back here, and I wouldn’t have had to know.”
“Yet.” Gil ran his fingers through the back of his hair and winced. Good. Hank hoped his skull had left a dent in his precious car. “Grace could’ve cut you out completely, claimed she didn’t know who the father was, but she refused, so your name is on the birth certificate.”
Hank froze. Christ. Did that mean…
“Until you sign the papers relinquishing your rights, the state of Oregon considers her a foster child,” Gil said flatly. “Legally, you are still her daddy.”
Daddy. The word was an icy fist plowing into his gut.
Gil’s lip curled. “Yeah. Shit just got a little more real, didn’t it? Imagine if I’d strolled into that dump in Montana and said, ‘Hey, dude. Wanna meet your kid?’”
The anger roared back. “Or here’s a thought—maybe someone could have told me when they found out Grace was pregnant.”
“And then what?” When Hank blinked at him, Gil sneered. “After what you said to Grace, what were you gonna do? Turn around and say, ‘Oops, my bad. Wanna get married, darlin’?’ Or you could’ve offered to support her on all the money you weren’t raking in. Except neither of those things was gonna happen…and you know why?”
“You don’t think I would’ve stepped up.”
“Wrong again. When I caught Grace sobbing all over a pile of fuel receipts in our office, there was only one thing she knew for sure. She did not want to raise a kid. Not with you. Not without you. Not at all.” Gil curled his fingers around the edge of the car roof. “So then what, Hank? Were you ready to be a single dad?”
The suggestion struck terror clear down into his bones, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. “I never got the chance to decide. And you, of all people, took that away from me, after everything you did to keep your son.”
“You think that was about fatherly devotion?” Gil’s voice was pure acid. “I was stupid in love. So fucking desperate I would’ve given Krista anything—a ring, cash for an abortion, anything—but she just wanted me to go away. So I decided if that bitch was gonna make me miserable, I’d do whatever it took to return the favor. It had nothing to do with the baby.”
But…Quint. All the years of battling attorneys and driving to Oklahoma City. How could Gil claim…
“When Krista got pregnant, I was the reigning ProRodeo rookie of the year,” Gil went on, relentless. “I had eighty grand in my pocket from the National Finals, and I was as close to being on top of the world as you could get without owning the gold buckle. And I had a family that was behind me a hundred percent. I still cracked. You…” He shook his head. “You were already a mess.”
Hank couldn’t listen anymore. His head was pounding and his chest felt like it was caving in, crushing his lungs. He yanked out his keys. “Move your car.”
“No.”
The keys dug into Hank’s palm as he fisted his hands. “Move the damn car, or I’ll drive over it.”
“Go ahead and try.”
Hank made a low, bellowing sound of frustration. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I have a hip that’s stuck together with thumbtacks and superglue, which is the only reason I’m not beating the crap out of you.” Gil rubbed a fist over the spot where Hank’s shoulder had made contact. “Maybe if I’d had someone to body-slam, I wouldn’t have slid my motorcycle off a curve doing seventy miles an hour. I might not have thrown away the one thing that mattered to me more than my life…and I damn near lost that, too. That’s why I bothered.”
Hank stared at him for a beat. “Fine. You win. Here’s your prize.”
He threw the keys at Gil’s head as hard as he could and started off across the parking lot just as his dad’s pickup came roaring down the street. It screeched to a stop in front of him, and Bing jumped out of the driver’s side, pausing to point a finger at Johnny in the passenger’s seat. “You stay!”
Then she whirled around, looking first at Hank, then Gil. “I came as quick as I could. What is going on?”
Hank stalked straight past her to the back door of the pickup. As he climbed in, Gil picked up the photo Hank had dropped.
“This is Hank’s,” he said, holding it out for Bing to take.
Then he continued on to where Grace was standing in front of her apartment, eyes wide and arms hugged tight over her chest, looking small and scared. Gil pushed her inside and shut the door.
Bing looked at the picture. Then she got in the pickup and passed it to Hank’s dad.
Johnny studied it for a long moment before he said, “Well, shit.”
* * *
Gil slumped against the wall in Grace’s entryway and pressed his palms to his face.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He dragged his hands down to look at her with eyes that were drained beyond exhaustion. “I’ve been clean for almost thirteen years. I was stoned for two years before that. And I have never wanted a drink more than I do right now.”
Grace would have said she was sorry, but every time she’d tried before, it had only made him mad. But he attended meetings nearly every week so… “Should you call someone?”
“I did. Delon’s meeting me at the café down on Main.”
Grace stiffened. “Are you going to tell him?”
“No.”
“Won’t he wonder why…”
One corner of Gil’s mouth twisted. “I’m an addict. Some days being awake is reason enough.”
But if he fell off the wagon tonight, it would be her fault. “Do you want me to drive you?”
“To be sure I make it past all the bars?”
“There are a lot of them.”
“I noticed. But if I don’t show up, Delon knows where to look.”
Oh God. In that moment, Grace felt like a natural disaster, laying waste to everything within reach. She had only caught snatches of the angry words Gil and Hank had thrown at each other, but they had obviously left a mark.
And if it had done this to Gil, Lord only knew what shape Hank was in.
Gil sighed. “Relax, Grace. If I was seriously considering cracking, I would have snuck off and done it without telling you. I’m going to have a cup of coffee with my brother, and we’ll bicker about which horse would be his best draw in the first round of the National Finals. Then I’m going home to show my kid that he still can’t touch me in a game of Guitar Giants and remember why I got clean to begin with.” He pushed away from the wall and looked down at her. “What about you?”
“I have to call Melanie. And Jeremiah will be here soon.” Grace swallowed hard, fighting tears she refused to shed as she followed him to the door.
Gil dangled Hank’s keys from one finger. “I’ll take these with me. Somebody will come and get his pickup in the morning.”
“Thank God he’s not driving right now.” If it had been anyone but Gil, she would have hugged him. “We’re lucky you were here.”
He snorted. “Tell that to Hank.”
“I will…if he ever speaks to me again.” And jumbled in with the guilt, there was a soul-deep sense of loss.
“He’ll be back. He’s gonna have a lot of questions before he decides whether to sign those papers, and you’re the one with the answers.” Gil flashed a cynical smile. “For now, it’s all in the hands of the Lord…and Bing.”
* * *
Hank slumped in the back seat and let the miles tick by without comment or explanation. Johnny and Bing were happy to let him.
His dad waited until they were turning into the driveway of the ranch to ask, “Where is the baby?”
“I don’t know. Oregon, maybe.”
“Oregon?” The clicks were nearly audible as Johnny made the connections. “So…Melanie?”
Hank nodded. His dad cursed softly. “How long has she known?”
Hank shrugged. He didn’t know much, except that he had been evaluated by a jury of his closest peers and found unworthy. Don’t tell Hank. He can’t handle the truth. After all he’s done, he doesn’t deserve to know.
And Grace…
Every time he tried to think about Grace, his thoughts turned to static, too many signals from too many directions. He’d jumped her and dumped her. She’d lied to him. She’d tried to tell him. He’d chased her away. She could have written him a letter. Sent an email. He’d done nothing to earn even that much.
Her parents would come unglued if they found out.
That single thought rang clear. They couldn’t know, or Grace wouldn’t even be part of the family. And everyone else… Was it possible that Melanie hadn’t even told Violet? Or Miz Iris? Or…
His heart stumbled. “They didn’t tell you?” he asked Bing.
“No!” She yanked the keys from the ignition, bailing out to march around and stand by in case his dad needed help.
The dogs came flying from the barn, yipping and whining in welcome. As Spider barreled toward his dad, Hank snapped, “Down!”
She dropped like she’d been shot, tail thumping wildly and eyes imploring.
Bing leaned down to scratch her head and coo, “Good dog! See how smart you are?”
Well, that made one of them. How stupid was Hank, to not even suspect? It was so damn obvious now. Grace, so desperate to talk to him that she’d waded through a packed bar. Then Wyatt, whisking her off to Oregon for a job that he’d conveniently conjured up. Melanie, practically adopting Grace.
And Gil…
Hank could barely comprehend that Gil Sanchez had gone so far out of his way for anyone. Thousands of miles, at least a dozen times. For Hank? That was so ridiculous he nearly laughed. Hell, maybe Gil had been telling the truth about his motives. If anyone had racked up some cosmic debt, it would be him.
And the bastard had torn his coat. Hank peeled off the Sanchez Trucking jacket, balled it up, and threw it into the bottom of the mudroom closet. Johnny and Bing filed in behind him. She hung her coat on one of the kitchen chairs, then sank down to prop both elbows on the table and plow her pink-tipped fingers into her hair.
He’d hurt her, implying that she might have been lying to him all this time. He walked over and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have asked. I know you wouldn’t have done that to me.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t react at all for a few moments. Then, slowly, she lowered her palms to the table and raised her head, staring straight ahead. “Yes, I would have.”
“What?” Hank dropped his hand.
When her gaze came up to meet his, it was both apologetic and resolute. “You’d barely gotten your feet under you when Melanie and Wyatt came, and just seeing them set you back for another two weeks. So yes, if they’d asked me what they should do…” She gave a helpless shrug. “I would have had to say they shouldn’t tell you.”
Even Bing had had no faith in him.
It was a trapdoor dropping from under his feet. The snap of a rope he’d thought would never let him fall. His stomach lurched at the sensation, and he did the one thing he had never imagined…or dared.
He turned his back and walked out on her.