Chapter Fifteen #2
Iris made a face. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.” She sank back in her chair. “So, you spent the night with a,” she air quoted, “‘friend.’”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
Iris was dug in, and he knew when it was time to surrender. “Her name is Faith, and she lives across the hall from me. We hang out. We enjoy each other and that’s all it is.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Jesus Christ, Iris. Let’s cut the bull. You’re bored. You’ve got no school, no job, and, as of a few weeks ago, no boyfriend.”
“Ouch. Don’t stop with the insults on my account.”
“It’s not an insult if it’s the truth.”
Kylie appeared with his breakfast, and he waited for her to drop his plate and leave.
“I know why you’re here,” she said, watching him closely.
He ignored the statement completely. “Walker is taking you back to DC tonight. You can stay at my place as long as you need. I won’t tell Mom about flunking school and the no job thing. None of it. But you need to leave. You can’t be here.”
“Have you met him?” Her question was quiet, the words small. Her eyes were too shiny. Too full of questions. Considering she’d barely been one when his mother had packed up and taken them away, he understood.
Gus picked at the sausages on his plate and slowly nodded. “A few times.”
“Walker says he’s sick.”
“Cancer.”
Iris toyed with the label on her bottle. “He doesn’t . . . like, you didn’t tell him who you were, did you?”
“No.”
“And he has no idea?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“I still hate him,” she said slowly, eyes catching his as she glanced up. “Do you?”
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “He’s old and frail and dying. It makes the whole hate thing a little hard to carry and he’s . . .”
“He’s what?”
“Not what I expected.”
“I don’t remember him.”
“I know.”
“But you do.” Iris pushed the bottle aside and leaned closer.
“Mom never told me anything about Fire Lake or Dad. I have a brother and a sister I’ve never met, but she doesn’t talk about them.
Don’t you think that’s weird? Like, how she could leave two kids behind if things were so bad?
” Iris leaned closer. “How could she leave them behind? What kind of mother does that?”
“We’re not going to second guess our mother. I’m not doing that. She left, and if our father gave a shit about us, he would have found us years ago.”
“Do you think it’s that simple?” She frowned. “Don’t you think there’s maybe a reason he didn’t?”
God, she was asking all the questions he’d tried not to think about. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Why are you here? What is it you want if not to let him know who you are?”
Appetite long gone, Gus sipped his coffee and considered his answer.
“A while ago I was in New York on business, and I read an article about the Catskills and in that article, there was mention of the Boone estate. Seeing that in print, our family name, did something to me. Hell, I spent the first seven years of my life here.” He sat back and was quiet for a few moments.
“I’d tucked him away, you know? Avoiding thinking about him or Sunday or Ford because it was the easy thing to do. ”
“So, you never tried to contact them before now?”
He shook his head. “No. The whole avoiding the past thing took care of that. I wondered about them from time to time, but I never took that next step until now. I did some digging and found out he was ill and something in me changed. My need to know took over.”
“You want to make peace before he dies.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see him in person and tell him that he was a shitty human being and that we were better off without him. Maybe I want him to know all the things he’s missed out on. Maybe I want him to know that we did okay. That Mom raised us on our own and we’re fine.”
“Did you tell him those things?
“No.”
“Why?”
And here they were, knee deep in the hard stuff.
“Because I’m not sure about a lot of things.
Not anymore and because he . . .” Mouth tight, he focused on the butterfly that flitted near the window.
“I feel something for him, and it isn’t hate.
” He toyed with a napkin. “Ford and Sunday seem like good people. I can’t help but think they wouldn’t be if he was as bad as we’ve been led to believe. ”
“Do you think Mom lied to us about stuff?”
And there it was. The million-dollar question he’d been afraid to ask himself.
“I think there are things we don’t know.” It wasn’t much, but it was all he had.
“Do Ollie and Harrison know you’re here?”
“No.”
Iris reached for a sausage and took a bite. “I’m not leaving Fire Lake.”
Fuck.
“I’m not saying I want to meet him or our siblings. I’m not sure how I feel.”
Shit. This was going sideways faster than he cared for. “Things are complicated right now.”
“Because you’re working for our brother, and he has no clue who you are.”
His eyebrows shot up at that. Fucking Walker.
“Walker told me what you guys are up to.” She grinned. “August Boone, carpenter extraordinaire.”
He was going to have words with his best friend. Maybe throw a few fists. Gus stared into his empty mug, and when Kylie approached with the pot, he shook his head and asked for the bill.
He knew Iris well enough to know he couldn’t control her. If she wanted to stay in Fire Lake, she was staying.
“I don’t have room for you. You’ll stay with Walker. He’s renting a place with lots of room on the opposite side of the lake.”
“Walker’s not going to like that.”
“No shit.” At the moment, it was the only thing giving him pleasure. “Let’s go and get you set up.”
They walked to his truck, and Iris snuck her arm through his. she whispered. “I’m glad you’re not making me leave.”
“As if I could.”
“I’m glad . . .” Her voice caught, and she leaned into him. “I’m glad I’m here. I’ve missed you and whenever my world implodes, you’re the only one who can make it make sense.”
“I wasn’t aware your world was imploding.”
“It is.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest, and Gus kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”