So many fucking questions. I’m losing my mind.

“There’s only one person who has those answers,” Grace reminds me.

The phone rings again and Grace goes to move. I hold her in place, not wanting anyone to break this moment.

“I should check that,” she says, but I shake my head.

“I don’t give a shit right now. Let them call—”

“Listen, I get that you want to avoid all of this, but you can’t, Trent.”

Grace doesn’t give me a chance to say another word. She gets up and grabs her phone.

“Hello?” She walks around the stable, cleaning the mess I made. “I’m here with him now. Yes, he’s okay, but . . .” Her eyes shoot to mine. “He should tell you why. Because it’s not my place to say.” There is a stretch of silence before she speaks again. “Okay, is everything?” Her eyes fill with tears, and she grabs her chest. “We’re on our way!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“We have to get back.”

“He isn’t gonna make it?” Fear takes away my ability to talk.

She nods. “We should move fast.”

For the first time since I left, there’s no anger toward anyone but myself. Yes, I have a right to be pissed they never told me, but I was still selfish, just like she said. I throw on my clothes, and take Grace’s hand. All I want to do is get there.

I pray I can make it before it’s too late.

Chapter 21

I ’m sitting in the passenger seat since Grace refuses to let me drive. She claims I drank enough beer to put a horse to sleep, although I feel completely sober.

It’s one of those moments when whatever buzz you were feeling disappears instantly.

The guilt and remorse I’m drowning in washed away all the alcohol. I hate myself for thinking I could hide away. The thought of what would have happened if Grace hadn’t found me, and I didn’t have the chance to get here, is like a punch to my gut.

Grace was right, he’s the only father I have. The only man in my life that has been there, and I abandoned him.

“Too bad we don’t have your squad car.” The hospital is about thirty minutes away. “I’ll drive as fast as we can.” She tries to reassure me.

I lean back in the seat and close my eyes.

My mind goes through memory after memory. My father showing me how to fish for the first time. I remember the pride in his eyes when I shot my first deer. He clapped me on the back and told me I’d done well.

I remember the first time my brothers and I got in a fistfight. Dad put boxing gloves on us and told us if we wanted to fight, we did it like men. Zach always had quick hands, and he clocked me good, Dad showed me how to block the next punch and had me go back until I learned how to fight.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Grace asks.

I glance over at her and touch her leg. “Memories of my dad from when I was a kid.”

She peeks over at me and attempts to smile. “Like what?”

“I was remembering goin’ hunting with him, and him teachin’ us how to fight.”

“I remember that makeshift boxing ring you had.” She laughs. “Wyatt tried to convince Presley and me to fight in it. He told us that all the kids did it, and if we wanted to do it in a bikini, he was all for it.”

“I would’ve watched that.” I squeeze her leg, and she slaps my chest.

“What else do you remember?”

“There’s no memory stronger than being a teenager and watching him sit on the porch at night, waiting for us to come home. Our curfew was strict.”

“Oh, I remember that. Wyatt and Zach didn’t mess around on curfew.”

Those two were always late. I learned early on how to get around it.

“Well, for every minute we were late, it was ten minutes shoveling the stables. Three minutes was a half hour of hard labor. I realized after the second time of bein’ late, it wasn’t worth it. But those two idiots were always late. If you were ten minutes late, it was almost two hours worth of chores.”

“If I’d known that, I would’ve made Wyatt late every day!”

“The trick was so show your face early, hang out with Dad for a bit, and then head to bed. He’d check on you before he passed out, and then you could go back out after.”

I was always skating around the rules. It also helped that Dad slept like the dead and Mom used earplugs to drown out his snoring. I’m pretty sure he figured it out, but he never said a word.

“Imagine if you’d thought I wasn’t your brother’s annoying friend when we were kids,” Grace jokes. “We could’ve had so many nights together.”

“I always thought you were pretty.”

“No you didn’t! You told Wyatt I was ugly and to stop bringin’ me around. I was in love with you at sixteen, but you were too cool for me. I had a bad boy complex.”

She’s so wrong. I was five years older, and the last thing I wanted to do was date her before she was legal. I knew I was going to be sheriff from the time I was in sixth grade. I loved everything police. Dad pushed me for about two years to start learning more on the farm, but I wanted no part. I had a plan . . . go to the academy, graduate, start dating Grace, get married, and be happy.

Funny only half that list got accomplished.

“I liked you, but I wasn’t too excited about going to jail.”

“Jail?”

“Sixteen will get you twenty,” I remind her.

“No one said we had to have sex!”

“You tell my hormones that. Darlin’, I was not waiting until you became legal if we were dating.”

Grace shakes her head as she drives. “You’re a mess. Tell me more about when you were young and horny.”

We spend the rest of the drive talking about our childhoods. I sometimes forget because she’s been my girl for so long that she has most of her younger memories with Wyatt and Zach. Zach was always around Presley and Wyatt was always wherever she was as well. But I wasn’t with them. I had my own life with friends in my own age group.

I go quiet when I start to think about how the dynamic will change. Knowing that I’m not their full brother could shift things. My brothers are good guys, I don’t know if they’ll care, but I do. I’ve prided myself on being Trent Hennington. There’s been an honor in being Rhett’s son. He’s respected in the community, and I grew up not wanting to disappoint him.