“What the hell do you mean you’re not interested?” Jack resisted the urge to shake his head. He’d offered Beau the chance of a lifetime and the guy had turned him down.

“Beau, is there anything we could say to make you change your mind?” Luanne leaned forward in her chair.

At some point in the conversation they’d become a team, doing everything they could to sign the best country and western singer he’d heard in a long time.

“No. I do appreciate the offer, though.” Beau took a swig of beer from a long-neck bottle.

“Do you mind telling me why?”

He glanced around. “I can’t leave Clyde.”

“Your father is all for this. In fact, he’s the one who told us about you.”

Beau tipped his chair onto the back legs and picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Clyde’s not my daddy, he’s my granddad.”

“Oh.”

“My parents died in a car accident, when I was a kid. I don’t remember ’em at all. We were livin’ in New Orleans at the time.” The chair rocked down on four legs. “It took ’em a while to find Pops. He was a musician out on the road touring. When he found out what happened he quit the road, came and got me, and brought me back here. He gave up his dream of stardom to give me a home. I can’t leave him now.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s so special about now?”

“He’s dying, Jack. Mimi didn’t tell you?”

“No, man. I’m sorry.”

Beau shrugged. “It’s life. He’s got cancer. They haven’t given him much time, but the ol’ coot refuses to believe it’s as bad as they say. It’s probably why he’s doin’ as well as he is.” He glanced over to where Clyde was telling some story and grinned. “He’s the best. I’m a lucky bastard. I’d do anything he wanted me to, but this. I won’t leave him now.”

Jack could wait until the guy was ready. “I don’t have a card right now, but I’ll give you my number, because this is an open-ended offer.”

“I’ll get a pen and a piece of paper.” Luanne’s smile was bright enough to light up the backyard.

Jack watched her walk away, then noticed Beau was checking her out too. “Don’t make me hurt you, cuz.”

Beau laughed. “Sorry, but she’s…somethin’. You’re a lucky man.”

Jack grinned. No way was he telling this pretty boy they weren’t a couple. “Listen, Beau, you take care of your grandfather, and anytime you want to take me up on the offer, you call me.”

“I’ll do that, Jack. Thanks for understanding. If you’d asked me six months ago, I’d have jumped on the offer like a duck on a June bug, but now…”

“I get it.” Uncomfortable with how personal this conversation had gotten, he tried to change the subject. “So are you making your living with your music?”

“Yes and no. I was rodeoing professionally before Clyde got sick. The diagnosis, plus a jacked-up knee, meant it was time to come home. I’ve been playing honky-tonks around here to make a little scratch.”

Jack peeled the label on his beer. “Professional rodeoing? Were you any good?”

“I was alright.”

“Is there any money in it?”

Beau grinned. “Some.”

Jack thought it was a lot more than some, judging by how cagey Beau was being. “Well, that’s definitely an angle we can use in marketing.”

“I doubt anyone will care much about a broke-down cowboy.”

Jack tipped his bottle in Beau’s direction. “You’d be surprised.”

Beau took a pull of his beer and glanced around at the people in the yard. “This must be pretty overwhelming for you, huh? You didn’t know about any of this or us until a few days ago?”

“Not a thing.”

“Really?”

Yes, really. A whole truckload of my life is really circling the toilet. But he would never let that show. He shrugged, grinned, and made sure his façade of affability was firmly in place. “What did you say? It’s life.”

Beau raised his beer in salute. “I don’t know if I’d have the courage to make this trip. Where’d you get the guts to do it?”

He pointed in the direction of the house. “Luanne. She looks all sweet and tiny, like you might want to pick her up and put her in your pocket. But she’s really a militant pixie, and you don’t argue with her if you know what’s good for you.” He laughed. “At least that’s what she says.”

Luanne returned with the pen and paper. “Here you go.”

Jack scribbled down his number, gave it to Beau, and then extended his hand. “You call me…for anything.”

“I appreciate it. I better get going. We’re playing the last set at Crazy Joe’s tonight.”

Luanne rested her chin in her hand and sighed as she watched him walk away.

“Damn woman, you’re killing my self-confidence.”

She grabbed his face and kissed him fast and hard. “I think you can handle it. I’m going to see if Leslie needs help cleaning up.”

She made him feel like superman.

Too bad she was his kryptonite.

* * *

Luanne snuck up the stairs to their bedroom. She hadn’t gone to find Leslie like she’d told Jack. She needed time alone to deal with the tidal surge of emotion threatening to breach the walls she’d built around herself.

The revelations about Jack’s dad had rocked her. The man gave up his son, a son he clearly loved, because of the pain his lifestyle would cause. Then he paid for Jack’s college knowing Jack would never know what he’d done. Then tonight, listening to Beau tell his story about how Clyde had given up what he loved to raise his grandson, and now Beau was doing the same to see his grandfather through the end of his life. She had no frame of reference for that kind of self-sacrifice.

She made her way to the window. Jack was dancing with Mimi. He twirled her and then dipped the older woman as she laughed. It was too much. Fresh, ugly tears spilled over her lashes. This woman held her grandson in her heart for thirty-three years, knowing she may never meet him, but hoping against hope that one day she would. That, combined with the blind acceptance and love Jack’s surprise family showered him with, all pointed a glaring, harsh, ugly light on the reality of her own family.

A mother who couldn’t get over herself and her own pain long enough to love and care for her daughter. A woman who tried and failed to use that daughter to get the attention of a man, who never loved her, back into her life. A child who bore the brunt of the resentment when her mother’s harebrained schemes didn’t work.

I wasn’t responsible for your choices, Mama.

The clarity of that thought gave her courage to look honestly at the grandmother who should’ve protected her and given her safe haven, instead of using her as bait to try to lure her son back into her life. A son who couldn’t care less about her, who treated her horribly, and who used her when he needed money.

You should’ve protected me, Gigi.

The common denominator in her childhood of neglect? Marcus Price. She’d known her whole life that Marcus wasn’t a good father—all she had to do was look at Floyd Kelly and his relationship with Scarlett to see that. Over the years she’d justified his behavior with the same excuses that her mother and Gigi used.

He’s so busy.

She should be grateful she had a father.

He can’t show his emotions, but he loves me in his own way.

Lies. All lies.

He’d never sacrificed one thing for her.

“My father is a misogynist and a narcissist,” she whispered to the room. Tears washed down her face, unbidden. Grief bloomed like a bloody wound in her chest.

It hurt like hell, but the truth made her stronger.

“My father is a misogynist and a narcissist, and he never cared about me.” She grabbed the disappointed ideas of being daddy’s little girl and threw them onto the burning pyre of unfulfilled dreams.

Which made her stronger still.

“My father is a misogynist and a narcissist, he never loved me, and isn’t worthy of my loyalty.” The shouted truth grabbed the last hope for the father that never was and would never be, and yanked it out by the root.

The room was a dark, quiet place to hide. But her heart and mind wouldn’t let her get away from the blinding truth. A truth that Jack had been trying to get her to see for days. She’d been neglected and abused by the family that should’ve loved and treasured her, and she deserved more. A whole hell of a lot more.

The heavy weight of grief for all she’d never have crashed over her. But she wouldn’t crumble under the weight. She would stand against the tide and let it roll over her, making her stronger and more vulnerable with each surge of reality.

Stronger because she knew she should’ve been given more love and attention than she’d received from her family.

Vulnerable because now she knew she needed those things, but to have them she’d have to find them elsewhere and make a new family for herself.

The isolation of the dark room was too much. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She’d been alone enough. There were a ton of people outside. She only wanted one.

Beau and his band were gone, but there was still music, coming from an old boom box. Couples danced and the older family members were sitting at long tables, talking.

She surveyed the crowd and spotted Jack with a group of men she hadn’t met. She didn’t think about it, she didn’t consider the consequences. She leaped from the porch and ran straight to him.

He saw her coming and took several steps toward her, opening his arms. With no thought about what anyone else would say, she jumped into his arms and buried her face in his neck. “Jack.”

* * *

Jack carried her back to the house and up the stairs to their room, all the while rubbing little circles on her back and trying not to lose his shit. What had happened? Was she hurt? Had someone died?

When he reached to turn on the light she grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

“Can I turn on the small lamp?” He had to see her face to make sure she was alright.

“Okay.”

He flicked on the light, sat on the love seat, and adjusted her so he held her across his lap. She was so small in his arms. “Tell me.”

“I never cry.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “I know.”

“I never cry unless I’m around you. You’ve seen me cry more than any person in my whole life. Why do you think that is, Jack?”

“I don’t know, Lou.” He wiped the tears from one cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“It’s just…” she hiccupped. “I have a shitty family.”

Finally. “Yeah, you do.”

“I think I’ve always known it, but I’ve always made excuses for them. I can’t do that anymore. You’re right, Jack, about all of it. About my mom, Gigi, and my dad. It was neglectful and abusive. What do I do with all of that?”

It broke his heart to see this fierce, capable woman doubt herself. “What do you want to do with it?”

She wiped her face and climbed off his lap. “I’m not taking it anymore.”

“Damn straight.”

“I’m not taking responsibility for my mother’s actions ever again.”

He sat back and stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. “Anything else?”

“I will never let my father manipulate me.”

“Yes!”

She stopped pacing and stared at him for several long seconds. “You knew I’d get here, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “You’re a brilliant woman, Luanne. I knew you’d figure it out somehow. What brought about these huge revelations?”

“Your family. There’s so much love going on here. It’s not perfect or pretty, but it’s the real deal.” She crawled onto the sofa, sitting sideways with her legs crossed. “You’re so lucky.”

Lucky? Was she watching the same shit show he was? His whole life had become a joke, exactly like it had been all those years ago, when he wore hand-me-down clothes and was on the free-lunch plan in school. He wasn’t lucky, he was laughable. The whole damn situation was laughable.

Anxiety pricked his skin like vultures pecking at road kill. A sensation, so foreign and yet so familiar, pressed in on him. Fear and paranoia had been his sadistic sidekicks growing up, and sometimes they’d bring along their old buddy panic to the party. It was unfortunate that they chose now to stage a reunion.

He was prepared to handle her issues, wanted to be her hero, but he hadn’t counted on her turning the tables on him and his screwed-up family. He plastered on his most charming grin. “If you say so.”

Guilt punched him in the gut when he saw confusion on her tearstained face. “I do say so. They’re wonderful. Surely you can see that.”

“Yeah, they are great.” Sugar coated the words, but sweat gathered in his palms. His heart vibrated in his chest, and the air in his lungs turned to concrete. Damn it. It was coming. He knew the signs all too well. With all of his strength he wrapped himself in the last ounce of charisma he possessed. “Listen, if you’re alright, then I need to go take care of something downstairs.”

She held her hand out to him. “Jack…stay.”

Her whispered words shot a hole all the way through him. He wanted to take the comfort she offered, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I really should…”

She drew her knees to her chest, closing herself off to him. Her disappointment about killed him, but he couldn’t stay. Jack Avery didn’t do public breakdowns.

He coolly strolled from the room, closing the door behind him. One stumbling step after another got him to the bathroom, where he concentrated on even breathing and calming his revved-up heart. All he wanted to do was retreat into the counterfeit affability that had seen him through his life.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could ever get to that place again.