Page 46 of Perfect Cowboy

“But you lost your dad.”

“He obviously didn’t realize it would happen that way, Gavin,” I snap. “But prison was a sacrifice Dad would have made to save Brady either way. Life isn’t always black or white.”

“What he did was illegal. That’s pretty clear to me.”

“Yes, but you would have done the same fucking thing if it was your child.” I’m almost shouting, but I’ve spent most of my life living under the weight of my dad’s actions. Being judged, scrutinized, hated. It was all worth it for Brady, but goddamn, it gets tiring. “You wouldn’t have just watched your flesh and blood die.”

My words seem to hit him and he leans back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. It’s easy to villainize my dad, and it’s not like I don’t think what he did was morally grey at best. But I also wouldn’t change a thing because Brady is alive and thriving now.

Even though my dad had to sacrifice everything, he always told us it was worth it and that he would do it again in a heartbeat.

He went to prison and lost years of his life so his son could live.

“Did you know my parents were a mark?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“But you must have told your dad stuff about them.”

“Only in the context of my boyfriend’s parents. Never to help him try to swindle anyone. I wouldn’t have done that to you. And I adore your parents.”

Gavin’s family is one of the richest in the state. Back then, it was all from ranching and now Bobby’s NFL money must also be contributing.

“You’re forgetting thatyouapproached me at school,” I say. “I never would have even dared to talk to you first, let alone try to set you up. It’s not like I ever imagined you’d be interested in dating me. I was invisible back then, Gavin.”

He stands and sets the mug on the coffee table, walking toward me and stopping when his legs are inches from touching my knees.

“Why didn’t you call me and explain then?”

The pain and disappointment are still ripe in his voice, and I wonder if our proximity is also making him feel like everything just happened yesterday.

The wounds have officially been reopened.

“Because my brother was sick. My dad was in prison. I was forced to move to Chicago and live with relatives because Brady was still underage. I didn’t want to be separated from him. Plus, you and I were both about to start college.”

“We could have stayed together in a long-distance relationship.”

“It never would have worked,” I insist. “Long-distance at eighteen with a million external problems working against us? I wasn’t ashamed of my dad. Never have been, never will be. But I hated living here under the weight of hatred and never planned to come back. And you never planned to leave. I just needed a fresh start, and it couldn’t include you.”

“So, you just forgot me instead.”

“Never. Not for one single day. But I needed to be alone, and I was young and immature and selfish. I didn’t have the conversation with you that I should have had. I just did what I needed to do for myself while I was going through hell.”

He takes the mug out of my hands and sets it beside his on the table before yanking me to my feet. We’re standing so close together that our lips are almost touching.

There are still so many things we need to say to each other, and the questions burn behind his eyes.

“I would have stood with you no matter what,” he says, “And stayed your boyfriend no matter how hard the distance was.”

Tears well in my eyes because I know it’s true, but it wasn’t a complication that I was able to take on back then.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

Instead of asking me anything else, he turns away. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“So should you.”

“I have a lot of thinking to do.”

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