Page 26 of A River of Crows

“The fact that he’s a liar and a murderer. Now, you listen to me,” Caroline said. “I didn’t do enough to protect your brother, but I will protect you, Sloan.”

“Protect me? But Mom—”

“Enough!” She pounded her fist on the counter. “This conversation is over and over forever. Do you understand me?”

“No.” Tears spilled out of Sloan’s eyes. “I don’t understand you at all.”

Her mom answered by picking up another dish, a white dinner plate, and slamming it onto the floor. “Get out of my face! Get out of my kitchen!”

Just a moment ago, Sloan had been so angry she would have looked for something to break too, but she’d traded the anger for fear of this stranger smashing dish after dish. It reminded Sloan of the night her mother destroyed the pantry. So, she ran into her bedroom, barricaded the door, and turned up Keith Whitley as loud as she could.

Sloan glanced around the visiting area. She’d never been inside a prison before, never expected she’d ever be in one, especially not to visit her dad.

She considered turning and running out, but she’d come too far. She’d pulled that crumpled paper out of her backpack and called her father’s friend. She’d let this stranger drive her here today, lying to her mother about an after-school art class.

Sloan wanted to remain stoic. Daddy had lied, and she wouldn’t let him off the hook for that. But when she saw him approaching, cuffed hands and legs, it took her back in time to that November day in her front yard, and she couldn’t hold back the tears.

As soon as they freed his hands, he hugged Sloan tight and kissed the side of her head. “Your hair’s lighter,” he said.

Sloan touched her head. “Yeah. I tried lemon juice, but Doreen gave me some stuff called Sun-In. It works better.”

“Well, it looks great,” he said as they took their seats. “I’ve waited so long to see you. I begged your mom and sent letters. I tried, Lo.”

“Mom’s real mad,” Sloan said. “Is it all true? Do you have a wife?”

Daddy’s shoulders curled forward, and his chest caved in. “Yes.”

“You’re not separated or anything? You lived with her too?”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t say how very sorry I am.”

Sloan pulled her shirt collar over her mouth. He was with her all those Christmas mornings while they waited for him. “Does she live in Mallowater?”

Daddy shook his head. “They live in Tyler.”

They. They. Not only a wife. Sloan hadn’t let herself consider the rest. “So, you have other kids?” Sloan leaned back, creating more space between them.

“Three. Kyle’s the oldest. You came next. Bradley was born right before Ridge, and my youngest, her name is Felicity June.”

Sloan’s head pounded. Nothing in her life made sense. Her brother was gone, but she still had siblings. She wasn’t the oldest. She had a sister—a half-sister.

Daddy stretched out his hand. “I’m sorry, Lo, but sometimes you can’t help who you love.”

Sloan wrung her hands under the table. “So, you love them both?”

“Yeah.” Daddy retracted his hand. “When I met your mother, there was electricity, Sloan. A connection.”

“So why didn’t you get a divorce?”

“It’s not that simple. Just because I had this connection with your mother didn’t mean I stopped loving my wife. She was my high school sweetheart. She stood by me through all the mood swings and nightmares.” Tears choked his voice. “She’s still standing by me. I don’t deserve her.”

Despite Sloan’s anger toward her mother, she suddenly felt protective of her. Mom wasn’t less than Daddy’s wife just because she wasn’t standing by her man.

Sloan crossed her arms. “Who do you love more?”

Daddy’s brows pulled in. “I love them both. It’s always been different, separate. Chemistry versus history. I get that it sounds awful. It is awful, but I can’t help how I feel. Someday you’ll understand that.”

Sloan hoped not.

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