Page 87 of A Reckless Memory

Her expression was bleak as she nodded. “I want to go home. I want to be with Tex.” Her face crumpled. “He’s never let me down.”

I couldn’t live up to a dog.

“No one’s leaving until we talk this out,” Cody said, pushing past his siblings. They formed a wall in the hallway, and Lorenzo was probably hiding in the office until the hubbub died down. Cody’s gaze turned supportive when he looked at Aggie. “Come on, Aggie. You know what he was like. He couldn’t control you with money or land. That’s all this trust is about.”

“Except he’s making Ansen a millionaire, no strings attached,” Eliot said hotly.

I held my hands up. The money was my last priority. And there were always strings. “I didn’t ask for it.”

“What did you do for it?” It was the most serious I’d ever seen Austen.

“Nothing, dammit. I’m not after your money.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I screwed up.

They exploded in a litany of accusations about the last time Barns paid me. I clamped an arm around a tense Aggie, spun on my boot heel, turning her with me, and marched us to her room. Kicking the door shut behind us and locking it in case the guys wanted to continue a pointless argument, I ground my teeth together.

“Aggie...”

She heaved out a breath and unzipped her short boots. She flung them off her feet and trudged to the bed. Guess we were staying. “He never loved me.”

“He did, Aggie.” I wasn’t sure he loved anyone, but she didn’t need to hear that.

She gave me a flat but dubious look. “He never called me after I left. Not once. I was the one to reach out.”

I recalled my conversations with Barns. He’d bitched about her exes and complained his boys didn’t want to work as hard as he’d had to growing up and then there was his toxic, late ex, Birdie. He’d never gushed about Aggie’s college graduation, just grumbled that she didn’t need it. He hadn’t said he was worried about her or that he was proud of a damn thing she did. But I couldn’t comprehend a parent not loving a daughter like Aggie.

“He loved you as much as he could love anyone,” I amended.

“He was pretty fond of you.” There was only a note of accusation in her tone.

Christ, she had to be hurting. What could I do to make it better? I loosely propped my hands on my hips, still standing by the door. “I don’t know. I don’t know what that was about. I just talked to him. He never mentioned including me in his will. I mean never. But then I never knew what game he was playing.”

“No one did.” With another heavy exhale, she swung her legs into bed. “It’s the perfect way to fuck with me and my brothers.” She sank deep into the covers, still dressed in the clothes she wore to the funeral.

“Can I lie with you?”

“I’m not kicking you out,” she said wearily.

Not the resounding yes I’d hoped for, but it didn’t matter. I had her permission to stay with her, to comfort her. I eased behind her under the covers. She was stiff when I pulled her close to my chest.

“I feel like I’m being a selfish brat,” she said in a small voice. “Like I’m just pissed about the money.”

“Everyone knows you’re not like that.”

“I never asked him for a thing.” She adjusted her position, molding herself to me better. A good sign she wasn’t dumping the blame and running. “Other than the normal kid stuff, you know? After he berated me for suggesting he waste one cent for my college when Mama left so much, I knew I was on my own.”

I flattened my hand on her abdomen and circled my thumb. I’d rather be touching bare skin, but she was vulnerable.

“Mama’s money is probably why he left me out—and dammit, it’s not about the money, but I’m scared to think that even if I had stayed, or if Mama’s life insurance hadn’t been paid to me, nothing would be different. That in the end, I was nothing to him, no matter what. He couldn’t take his pain out on Mama, so he inflicted it on me.”

What she said made sense. Aggie had been an obligation to him, one he didn’t see the need to care for during life or after death. She was too much like her mother, and it was the one area he let his fractured, blackened heart take the lead.

“You’re rich now,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Her words were sandpaper against my brain. “I don’t have any money yet, Ags.”

“But you will. And you’ll be able to do anything you want. Wherever you want.” Tension radiated through her body like a live cable tucked next to me.

I didn’t dare let myself entertain the thought of how much Barnaby had left me. What would I think when it all dropped in my account—if it did? Would it feel like dirty money? Would I dare spend a dime?

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