Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRIGGER
"Trigger." Her voice behind me makes my shoulders tense. She followed me. Of course she followed me.
"I need you to leave," I manage, still gripping the fence. "I need... I need to think."
"I know." Cassidy's footsteps stop a few feet away, giving me space but not leaving. "I know this is a lot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ambushed you like this. I just... I didn't know how else to tell you."
My hands slip from the fence, and I turn to face her fully. When I do, the evening light catches the tears gathering in her eyes.
"I didn't come here to ruin your life," Cassidy continues, her voice wavering. "I came because you deserve to know. Because he deserves a chance to know his father, even if his father doesn't want anything to do with him."
"That's not..." I start, but what can I even say? I don't know what I want. I don't know anything right now except that my entire world was just turned upside down.
"I just wanted you to know." She takes a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's your choice if you want to be part of his life or not, but to make that choice, you have to know he exists."
I hear the sharp intake of breath before I see her. Asha.
She's standing ten feet away, frozen in place like she's been struck. In her hands are two drinks, the whiskey and Aperol Spritz I'd ordered what feels like a lifetime ago. Her face has gone pale, her eyes wide and glassy.
She heard. She heard everything.
"Asha—" I start toward her, but she takes a step back.
"Don't." The single word stops me cold. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts deeper than any scream.
"I'll leave you two alone," Cassidy says, turning on her heel.
"Asha, let me explain—"
"Explain what?" her voice rises. "Explain that you have a child? That you—" She can't finish, and I watch as the realization crashes over her.
"I didn't know," I say desperately, moving toward her again. "Asha, I swear to God, I didn't know until two minutes ago—"
"But you did it." Tears spill over, tracking mascara down her cheeks. "You slept with her." She looks in the direction Cassidy walked. "By the looks of it, maybe five or six months ago." Her eyes swing back to mine. "Is she the reason you carried that ring in your pocket? Am I wearing her ring?"
"What?" The word comes out strangled. "Why would you ask me that? That ring was always meant for you."
"Don't fucking lie to me," she says sharply before tossing the drinks in a bush.
"I'm not." My hands reach for her, but she flinches back. "I told you the ring belonged to my grandmother. That wasn’t a lie. I started carrying it in my pocket a week after I found that lease."
She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling, and something inside my chest actually breaks. I can't watch her fall apart like this.
"You expect me to believe you carried a ring around for almost a year on the off chance I might propose."
"Sweetheart, that ring was going to make it on your finger by the time the lease expired, whether you asked me or not. It was only ever yours."
"If that were true and I was the only person in your heart, you wouldn't have slept with her," she says, right before she takes off.
"Asha, wait!" I lunge after her, but she's already sprinting. "Asha, let me explain! I didn't know."
She rounds the corner and runs smack into London.
"Hey, hey…" He grabs her shoulders, steadying her before she can fall. "What's going on?"
"Let me go." She tries to twist free, but he holds firm.
Laney appears at his side, her eyes cutting to me like knives. "What did you do?"
"He knocked up another woman,” Asha says with an empty tone that cuts deep.
"What?" London and Laney ask in unison, their faces mirrors of shock.
"When?" Laney's hand flies to her throat. "How... how is this even possible?"
"It doesn't matter." Asha wrenches herself from London's grip.
I start talking before she can walk away. She may not want to hear it. I know it's not an excuse, but I need her to know I didn't consciously choose someone else over her.
"It was the night we all went to Red Door, to celebrate London and Laney coming home from Texas as a couple. You hated that I was there and proceeded to flirt with the bartender all night." My throat tightens. "I don't remember talking to Cassidy. I was completely wasted—"
"That doesn't make it any better." Her eyes blaze.
"Wait, wait, wait." London holds up both hands, his jaw working as he processes. "Cassidy is telling you that was the night? That specific night?"
"Yes," I rasp out.
London and Laney exchange a loaded look.
"Then, unless you banged her in the bathroom," London says slowly, "that baby isn't yours."
My head spins. "I didn't fuck her in any bathroom, but I can't be sure what happened after I left the bar. I woke up in my truck the next morning, and I have this vague, blurry memory of a blonde in my passenger seat."
"That was me." Laney's voice cuts through the chaos in my brain.
London bites his lip hard, and she swats his arm.
"I'd rather have him know the truth than watch them destroy each other over a lie.
" Her eyes lock onto mine. "London followed you outside to take your keys so you wouldn't drive drunk.
He put you in the backseat and came inside to get me.
We got in the truck with you and considered driving you home, but then.
.." She smooths her hands down her dress, color rising in her cheeks. "We had other plans."
"Other plans?" Asha's voice drips with skepticism. "There's still unaccounted time where he was alone."
"We didn't leave," she answers. "We had other plans." She emphasizes each word through clenched teeth.
The pieces slam together, her words, the blurry blonde, that foggy memory. "You two fucked in my truck while I was passed out in the backseat."
London actually laughs, and Laney's face goes crimson.
"In my front seat." I force a laugh that sounds broken even to my own ears. "That's messed up, man. You owe me a detail." The attempt at humor falls flat because, inside, I'm still drowning in the whiplash of almost-fatherhood as I bend over and grab my knees that are threatening to give out.
"I'd say we're even. I just saved your ass," London tosses back. "You have an alibi for that entire night. We passed out and left when the sun came up. You came strolling into the house about twenty minutes after us. I’m pretty sure when we slammed the truck door, you woke up and drove home."
I pull in one last breath, filling my lungs to calm my racing heart, but when I look up, I see my girl.
Asha's arms are wrapped around her middle like she's physically holding herself together.
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and I hate that I somehow put them there.
Hate that I allowed myself to be in a situation where a mistake could have happened.
"Sweetheart." The nickname leaves my lips on a whisper. "Come here." I close the space between us in two strides. "I'm sorry," I murmur into her hair, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. My hands shake as they settle on her back.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Her voice muffles against my chest. "I'm the one who—"
"Who needed a minute to breathe after her world just got rocked." I cut her off because I know she's about to apologize for running, and she has nothing to apologize for. That news didn't just shake her. It brought her to her knees the same way it did me.
"Wait a second." Laney's voice cuts through our moment. "Why would Cassidy falsely accuse Trigger if she knew damn well he wasn't the father?"
The question sits heavy in the silence, unanswered and damning.
Asha goes rigid in my arms. Then she pulls back, her jaw set in that way I know means trouble.
"I know who." Her voice is cold, deadly calm.
"What?" Laney leans forward.
"My father." Asha's hands curl into fists at her sides. "He's been trying to break us up since we got back. This is exactly the kind of thing he'd orchestrate."
"Asha." I reach for her, but she's already moving.
"No." She holds up a hand, her eyes blazing with a fury I've never seen before. "No, I'm done letting him control my life."
She turns on her heel and stalks back toward the party, her stride purposeful.
"Shit." London exhales. "This is about to get ugly."
We follow her up the hill, past the pristine white fencing that cuts across the manicured lawn of the estate.
There’s a crowd gathered near the massive outdoor screen, everyone watching the races in tailored suits and cocktail dresses, but still Asha doesn't slow, doesn't hesitate, even though whatever words she’s about to deliver are going to be in front of an audience.
She cuts straight through the crowd like a woman on a warpath, and that's when I see him. Standing by the bar with a whiskey in hand, laughing with a group of men in expensive suits, is Warrick Fairfield.
"Dad," Asha's voice cuts across the space.
He turns, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Asha, I was wondering when you'd come over to say hi." His gaze flicks to me over her shoulder before sliding back to her. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Did you pay Cassidy to lie about Trigger being the father of her baby?" The words detonate across the patio.
Warrick's expression doesn't change, but I notice the way his hand tightens around his glass. She hit a nerve. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." Asha takes a step closer.
Her voice shakes, but she doesn't back down.
"You've been trying to sabotage my relationship from day one.
The electricity, the road, blocking me from entering my mother's home, the invites for one, as if your words weren't enough.
I know you hate Trigger, but this…paying someone to claim he's the father of her baby. That's a new low."
"That's a serious accusation." His voice drops dangerously low. "You might want to reconsider making it in front of all these people."
"Is it an accusation if it's true?"
A muscle ticks in his jaw. "You're being hysterical."
"I'm being honest." Her voice rises. "Something you clearly know nothing about."
He drains his whiskey in one swallow and sets the glass down with a sharp crack against the bar. "This conversation is over."
"No, it's not—"
"I said it's over." His eyes cut to mine, cold and calculating, before sliding back to Asha. "You think you can stand here and accuse me? In my home? In front of my guests?" His voice drops to something lethal. "You're walking a very dangerous line, Asha."
"Dangerous?" her voice shakes, but she holds her ground. "Are you sure that's the word you want to use?"
Something flashes in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or the first crack in his control. His jaw tightens. "Watch it," he warns.
"You're not even going to deny it," Asha's voice fractures.
"I don't owe you an explanation for how I protect my family." His tone is ice.
"Protect?" Asha shakes her head. "You tried to destroy the man I love because you can't control me anymore. That's not protection. That's manipulation."
"You're making a scene."
"Good." Her voice doesn't waver. "Let them see exactly who you are."
"I've given you everything. Every opportunity. Every advantage. And this is how you repay me? All these years, I thought I was raising a daughter who understood respect, who valued what she had. Instead, I raised an ungrateful child."
I snap and step between them. "You don't get to speak to her that way."
Warrick's eyes cut to me. "Excuse me?"
"She's my wife," I cut in, my voice dangerously low when I add, "And you and I are going to have a real problem if you keep disrespecting her.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me. The small crowd around us has gone silent. Then his mouth curves into something that might be a smile on anyone else, but on him it’s a threat.
"Your wife." The words come out flat. He looks at Asha, and for just a second, something raw flashes across his face.
"She's my daughter. My only family. We were all each other had.
" Then his expression hardens again. "And that husband title?
It means nothing. You're not her partner.
You're her revenge. A means to an end. Remember that when this all falls apart. "
He turns on his heel and walks toward the house, his stride measured and controlled despite the fury rolling off him in waves.
The crowd around us parts, and no one dares to meet his eyes.
As I watch him go, my jaw is clenched so tight my teeth ache.
A man like Warrick doesn't lose control without purpose.
He plans. He orchestrates. Which means he saw this confrontation coming.
Every word was calculated, designed to burrow into our heads and fester.
Plant doubt. Drive wedges. Break us apart from the inside.
But why?
There has to be more to this feud than my father's letting on. Warrick is too smart to waste this much energy on pride alone. He knows my father's hands are tied when it comes to our land. So what's really driving this? What does he think he'll gain by destroying his own daughter's happiness?
Unless breaking us apart isn't the goal and we're just collateral damage in whatever game he's really playing.
Movement catches my eye near the house, and a shadowy figure steps from the porch as Warrick approaches.
They exchange words before Warrick disappears inside, but not before a gust of wind reveals the shadowy figure is wearing a dress.
I scan the party for answers, and sure enough, I find Hollis sitting across the yard, beer in hand, but Sydney is no longer at his side. Shit.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, hating the shit hand Warrick is dealing my wife and feeling helpless to stop it. I don't want to be at war with her father; I don't want her to choose a side. I just want her to be happy, and I don't understand why he doesn't want the same thing.
Laney's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You okay?" she asks Asha.
"No." Asha's voice is small. Broken. "But I will be."
The words gut me. I move to her side, and this time, when my arms come around her, she doesn't pull away. She collapses into me, her face buried against my chest, and I feel the moment she stops holding it together. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
"I've got you," I murmur into her hair. "I've got you, sweetheart."
Around us, the party starts to resume, but I can feel the weight of their stares, their whispers. Let them look. Let them talk. All that matters is the woman in my arms and the fact that her father just confirmed everything without saying a goddamn word.