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“Daddy,” I choke out, “please don’t take the—”

“You invaded an employee’s privacy,” he cuts in, his tone laced with finality. “Not only that, but you completely fucking discarded your ethics to lure a subject into an interview under false pretenses for personal gain.” With that, he lifts damning eyes to mine as he lists off the crimes he deems fit for his punishment. “You used the guise of my paper to do it,” he exhales as if he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying, “and annihilated my trust . . . Do you really believe you deserve a desk chair right now, let alone still be considered the best candidate to take over my life’s work?”

I bite my lip as my eyes water and shake my head.

“You can work for your mother until I can trust you to help run my paper again.”

“Yes, sir,” I choke out before I flee, unable to take another second until I can handle it. I’d suspected it would come to this, but the reality of it is too much to bear. Dad didn’t talk to me during the short plane ride home as I stared out the window, stifling tears while replaying the devastation in that villa. Since he arrived in Sedona, I try to shield my occupied ring finger from him while refusing to take it off. The act seems impossible and feels more like a betrayal as my heart continues to mourn for the husband I left behind.

Though he tried, Easton failed to hide his fear, which only made me love him more. As much as I wanted to stay, to convince him we were in this together, he was just as much at a loss as I was. The difference is, Reid was right. I had a clear idea of what we were going to face. It’s the aftermath that I could never have prepared for.

As if his silence isn’t enough punishment, Dad drove me straight to our family home to face my mother without a single word of warning of what I am in for. Ironically, when I was young, Dad refused to spank me, even at my mother’s insistence. He would get me behind a closed door and tell me I better start crying and make it sound convincing. That protection is painfully absent now as dread courses through me. Tears brewing, throat raw, I slide the back door open and jump as my father slams a door nearby before I draw it closed. Glancing around the grounds for my mother, I come up empty and begin the trek to the stable, every step draining more than the last.

Entering the barn, I find her brushing Percy’s coat. Like me, Mom always seeks refuge with our horses when she’s too stressed or distraught topeople, so it was a given I would find her here.

The second I near her, I feel the charge shift in the air. Standing beside her outside the stall, I nuzzle a greeting to Percy, waiting for her to speak. Silent, agonizing seconds tick past before she finally does, her eyes trained on Percy.

“Parents live separate existences outside of their children,” she admits, her voice coated in irony and edged in bitterness. “We play ignorant to a hell of a lot, for your sake, so you can experience life and learn your own hard lessons. It’s one of the hardest parts of being a parent.” She swallows. “Your father and I gave you a ton of leeway, because you never—not once—disappointed us, even when you made mistakes.” Her eyes sweep over me in obvious devastation. “You have utterly and completely destroyed that faith and trust.”

My face heats as fresh tears fill my eyes. “Mom, I—”

“I was in love with another man before I met and married your father. He was fucking beautiful . . . and good in bed.” Shocked by her candor, I’m stunned speechless. “He was everything I thought I wanted, but nothing at all that I needed. Eventually, he took advantage of my love for him and turned me into someone unrecognizable. He used me up before he let me go, and because I loved him so much, I let him.”

A tear glides down her face, her voice surprisingly strong when she starts again. “If you’re lucky enough, you get a few chances at love in your life, but you don’t really get to decide which loves get the best and worst of you . . . at least atfirst.In hindsight, that’s the conclusion I came to. A naïve heart always gets hit the hardest, but a mature heart makes better choices. Some of that comes with age, but a lot of it has to do with the amount of break it can withstand before it wises up. I knew about Stella. I’ve always known.” She resumes running the brush along Percy’s thick mane. “He told me their story not long after we met.”

The damning curiosity that cost me, keeps me mute.

“I was just as forthcoming with my own story. It was our first bonding point and common ground. We couldn’t keep our hands off each otherphysically,but because we were so raw—so straightforward—with each other, we came together as the most honest versions of ourselves. Truth is, neither of us gave a damn if we turned the other off with the bluntest version of our personalities. But that thing we had when we met was so hard to ignore, though it was heavily lust-induced and comforting. Until it wasn’t, and when the dynamic changed, it terrified us both—more so him. I don’t think he expected to love me. I don’t know if I even wanted to love him. We both held out as long as we could. I knew your father was getting nervous that he was starting to fall, and he’d been burned just as badly as I had.” She shakes her head as memories surface clearly in her eyes, a soft smile lifting her lips. “Eventually, I acknowledged that I was crazy in love with him, but the truth is, he fell for mefirst. And when we gave in and clicked together,heartsandbodies, the same way we met, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” She swallows, and I can feel the anger vibrating from her frame. “I walked down that aisle toward your father without any hesitation in my step. With a mature heart still capable of being set on fire, and I’ve never once resented Stella or her place in his.” She turns to me then, eyes brimming. “At least, not until last night.”

“Mom, I wanted to tell you—”

“No, you didn’t,” she snaps crossly. “It took me a hot second to figure out why you were asking me so many questions about how your father and I got together, about the timeline . . . until it clicked.” I see the utter devastation in her expression as her voice begins to shake. “It clicked that my own daughter questioned the authenticity of my twenty-three-year marriage and believed it to be such a farce that she sought answers from someone other thanme.”

“M-mom, I’m so sorry. I know Daddy loves you. I was just—”

“You had your chance,” she interrupts as she aggressively wipes her face with her T-shirt sleeve. “I had to know,” she continues. “So I went to your desk, and I found the file and the emails between them,” she bites her lip as tears roll freely down her cheeks and she draws her brows. “I can only imagine how inspired you were by them and how boring we must have seemed to you over the years. I felteverythingbetween them, right along with you.” Her lower lip trembles. “I felt how much he wanted her, loved her. I felt his pain, too,” she shakes her head as tears collect and pool at her chin. “It did something to me I can’t really explain . . . but I guess that’s why you couldn’t either. Why you wouldn’t come to me.” She turns and faces me fully, the desolation in her expression ripping me apart.

“So now, sweetheart, I guess the question you couldn’t bring yourself to ask me is, if I ever feel like your father settled for me? Never. But if the one person who has lain witness to our marriage day-to-day isn’t convinced, why should I be?”

“Addie, Jesus Christ,no,” my father rasps out as we both turn to see him standing at the door of the barn. The thud of the brush on the stable floor clatters as my mother’s face collapses in an expression of grief, and she buries her head in her hands. Dad reaches her in a few strides, pulling her into his arms. My mother cries briefly into his chest, and he strokes her hair while whispering into her ear. “No, baby, no. Fuck no. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She rips herself from his arms abruptly. “Just . . . give me a goddamned minute, Nate.” Mom’s cry echoes into the barn, and she steps out of it.

“Fuck!” Dad shouts, making me jump before raking his hands through his hair. He stares after her for several heart-shattering seconds, looking utterly lost as I clutch my chest.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be fucking happening.

“I’m . . . D—”

“Go,” he says in a lifeless tone, watching the direction my mother disappeared in. “Go home, Natalie.”

FIFTY-THREE

“Meet Me Half Way”

Kenny Loggins

Easton

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