Page 64 of The Bachelor

“Where are we going?” Avery asked, momentarily confused.

“We’re taking you to your place. Or if you’d like, we can drop you at Shane’s.”

She shook her head, hard. “No, no, absolutely not. He wants space right now. He thinks I need time to consider what I really want.”

Jolene didn’t respond to that.

“You know what really sucks?”

Jolene shook her head.

“What really sucks is that when I need someone to tell me it’s okay, and to make me feel better, it’s Shane I want to turn to. Now I can’t do that. I screwed up, Jolene.”

It was that thought that had her sobbing, clinging to her guitar, mortified that she was being so personal, but unable to stem the flow.

“Shh,” Jolene soothed, rubbing her leg over and over. “Nothing a little time and talking can’t fix. If that’s what you want to do.”

Avery saw Jolene and Chance exchange looks of concern in the rearview mirror and it just made her feel even worse. “I don’t know what I want. Maybe more than I had a right to expect.”

She’d gotten everything she’d ever wanted and now she was in danger of losing it all. Shane. Her job. And she was sobbing in front of two people she really wanted to respect her.

The tears came harder.

THIRTY-ONE

Billy Hart stood in the doorway of his trailer and eyed him with disgust. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Good to see you, too.” Shane stood in the gravel at the bottom of the rickety steps wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing there.

He was in turmoil over the revelation at Rusted Truck that Avery hadn’t shared who she was with him, at any point, in all these weeks when they’d been loving and laughing and having amazing sex and waking up together in his bed. So when he’d gotten into his Lexus, wanting to get away, he found he had driven here. To his father’s. He hadn’t seen Billy in ten years.

He needed to lay his past to rest, once and for all.

Jolene had been subjected to repeated attempts on Billy’s part to squeeze her for money until she’d followed the example of their mother and filed a restraining order. But Shane had stayed far away from the man who had been so instrumental in molding him into the person he was. The person who had wondered and worried if he’d ever be able to have a healthy relationship, who had spent a lifetime in self-reflection, wondering if and when Billy’s temper might appear in his own personality.

Billy had a beer in his hand, and he took a sip of it, studying Shane over the can, holding his screen door open. He didn’t bother to invite Shane in, not that he would have entered the surely depressing residence. His father hadn’t aged well. He had the swollen nose of an alcoholic and a scraggly head of hair that was thinning in the front. His shirt was stained with tobacco juice from his chew, and Shane gave the whole damn state of Kentucky a bad name.

“What do you want? I haven’t been bothering your mother or Jolene, so don’t start shit with me.”

“How come you never bothered me?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. His father had become afraid of him.

His father laughed, which trailed off into a cough. “Because you don’t have a soft spot. There was nothing to be gained from talking to you.” He shook his head. “You drive all the way here to ask me that? Next time just call.”

Billy started to close the door, but then glanced behind Shane. “Shit.”

Shane turned and saw a car had pulled into the drive. A woman got out. About his father’s age, a cigarette in one hand, a brown bag in the other. “Billy, I got your whiskey.”

She was full-figured, wearing a pair of jeans that fit her well, and a cute sweater. Her hair and makeup were done. Shane thought she was far too attractive to be with his father, but there was no accounting for taste. “Oh, who is this?” she asked with a smile.

“I’m Shane,” he said, extending his hand out.

“He’s nobody,” Billy said.

His throat tightened and he paused, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The woman looked uncertain what to do. She did briefly take Shane’s hand, but like she was afraid to give it a proper shake. “I’m Louise, Billy’s girlfriend.”

“I’m his son.” For years, he’d been wishing that wasn’t the case. But he was never going to be able to move on until he acknowledged it. Admitted the damage that had been done to him emotionally. Accepted it.

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