Flare, p.2
Flare, page 2
Damn. I’d forgotten all about that. Funny how the worst years of your life crawl into a corner in your mind and you ignore them. It happened to Brad, not me, but it was hell on all of us.
Will all of this someday be one of those memories that we never think about?
And is that part of the reason Dad and my uncles chose not to tell us about all the shit that went down twenty-five years ago?
“Okay,” I say. “Brad wasn’t in school at all that year. Pat Lamone left after what would’ve been Brad’s freshman year. So Brad wouldn’t know Pat at all.”
“No. Maybe he knew of him. It’s a small town. Oh…” Dad sighs.
“What?”
“Diana was a freshman that year as well. Maybe she knows him.”
Oh, God. Diana knows him all right. He freaking poisoned her, except she doesn’t know that. Only Callie and Rory know that, and they told me.
“I know of him,” I say quietly.
“How? They moved right after his junior year. You were still in middle school. Sure, you probably heard the name here and there, but how did he make any kind of impression on you at that age?”
He didn’t.
I only know because of Rory.
“You going to answer me sometime this century?” Dad raises his eyebrows, still watching the road.
I draw in a breath. This is my father. The man who I trust with my life.
Also the man who has been lying to me—even though it’s lying by omission—my whole life.
I love my father. I love him with everything I am.
But I can’t break Rory’s confidence.
No.
“Donny mentioned him,” I say. “Apparently Mrs. Mayer’s house, where he’s renting a room, was vandalized while she was out of town. He filed a report with Hardy Solomon, and Hardy told Donny.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he named Jesse Pike and the rest of his band as the vandals, but all of them except Dragon had an alibi. So apparently Hardy dismissed it.”
“Maybe it was Dragon by himself,” Dad says.
“No. Lamone named four masked men.”
“If they were masked, why did he think it was Jesse and the band?”
“Because…” I swallow. “Because…”
God, I can’t do it.
Dad slows the truck down, pulls over to the side of the highway.
This isn’t going to be good.
“Brock, what the hell aren’t you telling me?”
“I made a promise, Dad. It’s not my story to tell.”
“I’m your father. You can tell me anything.”
“I want to. It’s just… Rory…”
“This has something to do with Rory? And Callie?”
I nod. I can give him that much at least.
“Rory told me in confidence,” I say.
“If it has to do with Callie, then Donny knows.”
I nod.
“All right. Maybe Donny will tell me.” Dad grabs his phone.
He can try, but he’ll fail. Donny won’t speak of it until he has Callie’s permission.
“Hey, Don. Sorry to bother you at work. Brock and I are on our way to Wyoming to check out those coordinates.”
Pause.
“Yeah, I’m going to put you on speaker.”
“Hey, Brock.” My cousin’s voice comes to the line.
“Hey, Donny.”
“I just gave your cousin some news,” Dad says. “I’m going to need to know what you know.”
“What news is that?” Donny asks.
“We got a name from our people. The name of a grandson. An alleged grandson of your great half uncle.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. A man named Pat Lamone.”
Donny’s phone clatters to his desk. Seriously. I hear it happening. Then the noise of him scrambling to pick it up.
“Did you just say Pat Lamone?” Donny asks.
“I did. And apparently your fiancée knows the man, according to my son here.”
“Brock…”
“Hey, I didn’t tell him anything. I said I couldn’t say anything until I talked to Rory. He decided to call you because he figured if it involved Rory, it involved Callie, which means you know.”
“I do.”
“Listen, Donny,” Dad says. “If this Lamone is truly a relative of ours, and if he’s a bad seed, I need to know.”
“Has he taken a DNA test?” Donny asks.
“Not that I know of, and of course we will insist upon that. But here’s the thing. We’re talking three generations descended from a half sibling, so a DNA test may not be conclusive.”
“How the hell can’t it be conclusive?” Donny asks.
“Because we all have second and third cousins walking around that we don’t even know about, and this is a descendant of a half sibling on top of that.”
“Right,” Donny says. “That makes sense.”
“Brock won’t tell me what’s going on with this Lamone guy without Rory’s permission.”
“I may be able to help you out there,” Donny says. “Rory’s here. In the office with Callie.”
My heart jumps. Just the mention of Rory’s name, and my heart responds.
“All right,” Dad says. “Can you ask them? Get their permission for Brock to talk to me?”
“I’ll try. Hold on a second.”
Shuffling, as Donny moves out of the office.
How long will we have to wait? I have no idea. And what is Rory doing in the city attorney’s office anyway?
Get over yourself, Brock. She’s probably just visiting her sister. It’s lunchtime. Which means—
“Hey, I’m back,” Donny says. “Rory and Callie are here with me, and they’ve given me permission to tell you about what’s going on with them and Pat Lamone.”
My heart beats faster just knowing Rory is on the other end of the line. Damn.
“Have you told them who Pat Lamone allegedly is?” Dad asks.
A throat clear. Then, “I have not.”
“Donny”—Callie’s voice—“what are you talking about?”
“Rory? Are you there?” I ask.
“Hi, Brock. I’m here.”
She has the voice of an angel. A worried angel.
Dad clears his throat. “Rory, Callie. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Pat Lamone right now, and we’ll get to that, but we have reason to believe he may be a Steel relative.”
Gasps come through the phone.
Two gasps, and I know which one came from Rory.
Already I know her that well.
“There’s no reason for anyone to be freaked out yet,” Dad says. “We haven’t figured out if it’s real or not. But that’s the claim.”
“Oh my God.” From Callie. Then, “Rory, are you all right?”
My nerves contract into spasming twitches.
“Rory?” I yell. “What’s wrong with Rory?”
“I’m fine, Brock.” But she doesn’t sound fine. Her voice is shaking.
“Damn all of this.” I rub my arms against the tension. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
“Oh, you’re going to do it over the phone, Brock,” Donny says. “You and Uncle Joe don’t drop a bomb like this on me and the women without finishing it.”
He’s right, of course. I’d never let him get away with the same.
“Who wants to tell the story?” Dad asks.
A pause, and then Rory’s voice.
“I was the adult in the room back then. This falls on me.”
I hear the trembling in her voice, and in my mind’s eye, I can see her bottom lip. She’s probably chewing on it. The lovely rosiness is gone from her cheeks, and she’s probably feeling as nauseated as I am right now. Probably more.
I listen, wishing I could hold her in my arms as she goes through, in a robotic tone, everything she told me the other night.
Dad goes rigid.
Rigid and red-faced.
More rigid and red-faced at each point in the story.
The hairy buffalo that was drugged with angel dust.
Diana’s poisoning, the reward offered by our family.
Callie inadvertently overhearing Pat and Jimmy talking about drugging the punch.
Callie and Rory coming up with an idea to claim the reward.
Rory—my beautiful Rory—putting herself in harm’s way to get the confession.
Then—
Rory, along with Callie, lured by Brittany Sheraton, getting poked with something. Drugged. Passing out.
The two women waking up, surrounded by X-rated photos of themselves.
Finally, Lamone’s return to town, his antics since then.
Rory goes silent.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” I ask through the phone.
No reply.
Then, “She’s okay.” Callie’s voice.
God, I need to be holding her. I need to be telling her this is all okay. That I’ll fix it. That I’ll move heaven and earth to fix it if I have to.
Dad finally speaks. “All right.”
“We’re really sorry, Mr. Steel,” Callie says. “We knew who poisoned Diana all those years ago, and we didn’t come to you.”
Dad lets out an angry growl. Yeah, it’s a growl. This is Jonah Steel when he’s mad. Red with rage. The Jonah Steel that has to be talked down by his calmer brothers.
Except they’re not here.
But I am, and I’m not going to let him blame Rory and Callie for this.
“Dad, they had no choice.”
“No choice?” Dad growls again. “We would’ve protected them.”
“Uncle Joe”—this from Donny—“they had no reason to believe we would’ve protected them. They were kids.”
“I wasn’t a kid.” Rory’s voice. It’s soft and distraught.
“I’m not going to let you do this,” I say. “We’ve talked about this, Rory. You were barely eighteen.”
“I wasn’t a kid,” she says again.
I turn to my father and glare at him. Don’t you dare, I tell him with my eyes. Don’t you fucking dare go after her.
His lips are pursed, his jaw tense.
He’s angry. Yes, he’s angry, and he has a right to be. But damn it, if he goes after the woman I love, I’ll never forgive him.
Then I drop my jaw.
I did not just think that word. The L word.
Doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is Rory, and I need to protect her from my father’s rage. And yes, it’s rage. I see it everywhere.
“Dad,” I say, “this isn’t about Diana. She had already recovered by the time Rory and Callie even knew. It doesn’t matter.”
“Uncle Joe”—from Donny through the phone—“Brock is right. You know Brock is right.”
“We’re talking about your sister,” Dad says to Donny through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” Donny replies, “and trust me, I was plenty pissed off when I first found out. Diana’s fine. There were no long-term effects, and like Brock said, Diana had already recovered by the time the rest of this happened.”
Dad sucks in a breath. “Callie could’ve come to us when she first heard the confession.”
“This was ten years ago,” Donny says. “They wanted to have proof. Don’t you see? There was no proof.”
“We would’ve found the proof,” Dad says.
He’s right. We would have. We would have manufactured it if necessary. But that doesn’t matter now.
“If this fucking degenerate is a relative,” Dad grits out, “I will personally see to it that he never gets a penny of Steel money.”
Good. Now we’re back on track.
I nod. “I’m with you there.”
“Me too.” From Donny.
“Give me a minute,” I say. “I need to talk to my dad.”
“Sure,” Donny says.
I press the mute button.
“You need to apologize to them,” I say to Dad. “To Rory and Callie.”
“I don’t need to apologize to anyone.”
“Callie’s going to be a member of this family, and Rory—”
Rory what? God, I fucking love her. Crazy as shit, but I do.
I clear my throat. “Rory is her sister. They were kids, Dad.”
“They were trying to get our reward.”
“Yeah. Everyone wanted that reward.”
He doesn’t reply.
“You can’t blame them for this. They were fucking kids. You know it, and I know it.”
“But Diana…”
“What Pat Lamone did to Diana is unforgivable. I agree with you. He’s not going to get a penny of Steel money, even if he is entitled to it. But Diana recovered. Diana recovered before Rory and Callie had the proof. And you have to understand, once Lamone took those pictures of them—”
“They still should’ve come to us.”
“Dad, are you listening to yourself? Two young women were violated. Violated. Along with Diana. They are victims of this just as she is. They were drugged, put in compromising positions, and photographed. They were violated.”
That finally gets him. His jaw softens…but not quite enough.
“But they were respon—”
I draw in a breath, force myself not to yell. “No, Dad. Go there, and I won’t forgive you. You will not say they put themselves in that position by Rory seducing Pat and getting the confession. You absolutely will not.”
He nods then.
He knows. That would be taking it too far.
“You’re right, son. I’m sorry.”
“Callie’s going to be a member of this family,” I say again.
“I know. The Pikes… They’re good people.”
“Yes. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget that Callie and Rory were children.”
He opens his mouth, but I stop him.
“Don’t tell me she was eighteen. Don’t tell me that. You know as well as I do that an eighteen-year-old and a seventeen-year-old aren’t all that different. It’s simply an arbitrary line, Dad, and it has to be drawn somewhere.”
“She wasn’t a child. Not in the eyes of the law.”
“No. And believe me, she knows that. She’s punishing herself so much for this.”
“You really care for her, don’t you?”
“I do. Very much.”
Dad sighs then, and he turns to look at me. I don’t know what he sees on my face, but the tension in his countenance visibly lessens.
“I’m ready. I’ll apologize.”
“Thank you.” I take the phone off mute. “Don? You still there?”
“Yeah. What the hell are you doing?”
“He was telling off his old man,” Dad says. “And I hate to say it, but rightfully so. Rory, Callie, I apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
No response from either of them.
“They’re both pretty upset, Uncle Joe,” Donny says.
“Again, rightfully so.” Dad rakes his fingers through his hair. “You girls don’t know me very well, but Brock and Donny do. I’ll do anything to protect this family, but this happened ten years ago, when you were kids. Before you say anything, Rory, you were a kid.”
I smile at Dad, thanking him silently.
“That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Steel,” Rory says, “but there’s a part of me that will never forgive myself.”
“I know where you’re coming from,” Dad says. “Believe me. There are things in my past I may never forgive myself for. But try to forgive yourself. Please. And call me Joe.”
Chapter Three
Rory
“All right,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ll try.”
“I mean it, Rory. You too, Callie. Call me Joe. You’re family now.”
I’m not technically family, but Callie will be soon.
I’m worn out. Exhausted. Washed, wrung, and hung out to dry.
I feel weakened yet also fortified.
Telling the story to the Steel family patriarch took everything in me, but it also gave me strength. His first inclination was to berate me, which is of course what I expected.
Diana Steel was the family jewel back then—the first daughter born to this generation of Steels. And she was perfection. The three Bs—beautiful, brainy, and built.
Why I’m still considered the most beautiful woman in Snow Creek is beyond me. Diana Steel eclipses me in everything.
Brock. I need Brock to hold me. I want to bury myself in his hard, strong body.
But he’s not here.
I have only myself from which to draw strength.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Brock’s voice comes through the line.
“I’m fine.”
It’s a lie, and both he and I know it. But he’s on his way to Wyoming with his father, presumably on business. I can’t allow him to worry about me.
Funny.
Just last night, I almost went to bed with Dragon, and just this morning, I almost accepted a date with Davey. I’m glad I didn’t do either of those now.
I want to see how it turns out with Brock.
Sure, he was drunk as a skunk last night. But who did he call? He called me.
I stop myself from absently touching my abdomen. Callie knows I may be pregnant, but Donny does not. I don’t want to give him any reason to suspect.
Donny and Brock are talking through the phone line now. Words surround me, get into my brain, but I don’t make any sense of them. I’m in my own thoughts now.
Callie leads me to a chair and helps me sit down across from Donny’s desk.
“It’s okay, Ror,” she whispers.
“I know.”
Part of me does know.
Part of me knows the Steels will help us. Not just Donny, and not just Brock, but we have the power of the Steel family behind us now.
Can Pat Lamone really be related to Brock?
I can’t even freaking believe it.
Donny finally ends the call and looks toward Callie and me.
“Are the two of you okay?”
“We’re good,” Callie says, rubbing my hand.
“Sorry about Uncle Joe.”
“It’s okay,” Callie says. “You had the same first reaction.”
“Brock didn’t react that way,” I say. “When I told him the story, all he did was comfort me. Tell me it would be okay. He didn’t berate me for not coming to the family with the information.”
