Later, he’d tried to stay on Dean’s good side because he craved his love so badly. Because he’d never had his father’s, and he’d needed to know he mattered. That he was worth the trouble.
Garrett’s hands got clammy, and more than anything, he wanted to laugh the whole thing off. Because Dean had given him…everything.
But Garrett had Aspen to consider.
“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He kept his voice level. “I’m asking if you know something about it.”
“I know I’m not the only person who wants to figure out what happened to Jane Kincaid.”
“Okay.” Garrett hoped Dean would say more. His coffee had finished brewing, and he added a little creamer and took a sip.
Dean asked, “Did you hear the story yet?”
“Aspen heard it last night from Marion Eaton. A total stranger. If I’d known it was so… If you’d told me, I could have told her myself. It would have been easier for her.”
“And you’re sure she didn’t already know?”
The image of Aspen weeping on her couch, overwhelmed and distraught at what she’d learned… “She had no idea. She was shocked. And when she told me, so was I.”
Dean nodded but didn’t seem convinced. Then his eyes narrowed. “What were you doing over…?” His voice trailed, and he gave Garrett another long look. “Is that why you look like you just woke up? Is that where you spent the night?”
“Not like that. She was nervous after the break-in. I slept on her couch.” He didn’t add that she’d been on the couch with him, that she’d slept in his arms. That would only muddy the already mucked-up waters.
“Why you? I mean… Good grief. Don’t tell me you’re falling for that girl.”
“First, stop calling herthatgirl. She’s a grown woman, and she has a name.”
Dean flicked off the words, but Garrett wasn’t finished.
“And second, so what if I am? She’s beautiful and kind and?—”
“All alone and wounded, and you’re just the person to save her. Except she’s not that bird you hit with the truck when you were learning to drive. You can’t stick her in a box and nurse her back to health.”
Garrett set his cup down hard, sloshing some coffee over the side. “It’s not like that.”
But Dean continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I get that there’s something attractive about a woman who needs help, but people like Jane Kincaid?—”
“Aspen is not Jane.”
“—crush people. They draw them in and squeeze the life out of them and use them up. I know you think she’s different, but what if she’s not? What if she’s just like her mother?”
“She’s nothing like her mother.”
“How would you know?” Dean tossed the words out. “You didn’t know Jane, and you barely know her daughter.”
“Jane Kincaid was mentally ill, and Aspen is perfectly sane.”
“We thought that about Jane, and we knew her a lot longer than you’ve known Aspen.”
Garrett glared at his uncle. Dean didn’t understand.
He rounded the bench to where Garrett had perched on a stool and sat on the one beside him. He took a long, deep breath and blew it out.
“You’re still going to the doctor today, right?” Garrett asked.
“Been trying to come up with a way to get out of it, but short of death, I think your aunt’s determined.”
“Those episodes you’re having aren’t normal. Better to figure out what’s going on and deal with it than let it fester and get worse.”