Page 23 of The Last Dance You Saved
The gleam in her eye just about killed me and had me growling, “Different times. Different situation.”
She laughed and patted my arm. “Don’t worry, Dad. I know every single boy at my school, and believe me, none of them are interesting enough to let them kiss me.”
That wasn’t any kind of reassurance.
I was suddenly very glad we were heading back to the ranch. I needed to talk to Lauren. Needed to get on the same page about this next stage of Fallon’s life. Dating was out of the question, especially when I knew exactly what those senior boys at her high school would be thinking on the first day of the new school year. I’d heard the termFresh Meatin the locker room way too many times growing up in our small town. The guys had thought the freshman girls were fair game now that they were in high school when, two years before, they wouldn’t have been caught dead even talking to them. With just barely four hundred students in the school, the guys had wanted a new batch of girls to practice on.
No way would that be my daughter.
Selling the ranch and moving her the hell out of Rivers seemed to take on even more importance. I’d enroll her in an all-girls high school and keep her in the little bubble of safety for as long as possible. It would be one more reason she found me despicable, but I’d protect her any and every way I could.
? ? ?
The sun was just starting to dip downward when we landed at the private airport about thirty miles from the ranch. Stepping onto the tarmac outside the shared hangar where the Harrington Ranch Cessna had been kept, the heat hit me with a staggering force. People never understood that July in the foothills of California didn’t mean seventy-degree beach weather. It was hot. Damn hot.
It was the kind of day growing up that would have ended with a trip to the falls to duck our heads under the winter run-off or sent us to the lake with inner tubes slung over our saddlebags. Anything to cool off, to shed the heat and dust of the ranch for crisp, clean waters.
My dark suit absorbed the sun like a sponge, and I shed the jacket as I made my way to the Jaguar F-Class that I’d left in the hangar after I’d driven to Rivers from Vegas for the funeral and then had to have my pilot pick me up so I could fly to Tokyo. The car now sat next to the empty slot where the Cessna had been parked, and my gut clenched all over again at the thought of Fallon piloting it alone. I cursed my brother again for teaching her to fly, even though I knew why he had.
Growing up, Dad had required Spence to learn how to use and repair every piece of equipment that was needed to run the ranch, and Spence had done the same with Fallon. The plane was just another tool, allowing them to assess the thousands of acres of land for issues and track the cattle with ease. Regardless of whether it was a necessary piece of equipment or not, it was going to be one of the first things I sold. If we needed a bird’s-eye view, I’d have Steele hook us up with the latest drones to do the work.
I took my frustration at Spence out on the road, speeding along the mountain lanes with the Jaguar hugging the curves. I’d loved racing along these paths as a teen, taking them way too fast and feeling way too invincible. Both Spence and Lauren had given me a hard time about it. They’d always told me I was lucky not to have crashed, and in hindsight, they were right.
My jaw ticked.
This was why I hadn’t wanted to come back to Rivers after Dad’s funeral. Too many memories haunting me. Good ones that only bled into pained ones. Loss and humiliation and betrayal that clung to me. Mine and Spence’s and Lauren’s.
We were almost at the turn-off to the ranch when Fallon’s voice, low and quiet, asked, “Did you always hate it here?”
I rubbed a hand over the short bristles of the beard I kept clipped tight as a thousand images filtered through me like a slideshow reel. Laughter. Horses. The joy of that moment when a wild mare finally submitted to the bridle. The smell of the flowers. The sound of the rushing rivers merging from different corners of the property only to spew out into the lake. The feathery touch of the first snowflakes falling and melting on your hand.
“No,” I told her honestly. “When I was your age, I felt just like you—as if it was my entire world. As if it was the only place I’d ever want to be.”
“But you hate it now?”
“No. I can just look at it without the haze of my childhood love covering up the truth. It will never be able to stand on its own. It’s a losing bet, no matter how you play it. I don’t want you to struggle to try to keep it alive when there’s nothing you can do to keep it breathing in the long term. All you’d be doing is giving it life support. But once you pull the plug, it’s still going to die.”
The analogy was harsh, but I’d made it on purpose. She needed to hear it in those real, raw terms.
Her arms hugged her body tighter, and she turned her head to look out the window, chin raised. She was angry and frustrated, and I completely understood it. If someone had told me the same thing when I’d been her age, I would have taken a swing at them.
But the truth was still the truth.
We pulled through the gate, and the sight of the house kicked me in the gut, just as it had when I’d come back for the funeral. But just the money it took to maintain the buildings was enough to put the estate in the red. Fallon didn’t have a clue how many dollars ran through the accounts each month.
I drove around the back of the house to the parking lot and pulled up next to a blue car I didn’t know and yet still looked familiar. Fallon was out and running toward the front door before I could get another word in.
I grabbed my suitcase from the back and slammed the hatch. I’d just started to pass the blue subcompact when my feet stalled at seeing a rental car sticker in the back window.
The dark acid that had burned in my stomach in the control room returned.
What the fuck?
It couldn’t be the same car.
I hadn’t paid attention to the license plate while watching the video. I’d been much more interested in the man in the polo who’d pulled out after it. My head whipped around, eyeing the work trucks parked on the far side of the barns, looking for the man’s SUV and not finding it.
The anger and frustration my daughter had been feeling decided to take its turn with me.
