Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Rain
Shirt by shirt, I sort through my dad’s closet. Some of them go in the trash, too worn to be of any use to anyone. Others go into a donation pile. A select few I keep for the memories attached to them.
A plaid jacket with wool on the inside catches my attention. I reach for it slowly and pull it out. Without looking away from it, I walk to the bed and sit down.
The jacket is faded green and black. It’s got a hole in one of the pockets that makes me smile as I run my hand over it.
I bought this jacket for him one year when I was a kid.
That Christmas, my grandmother was able to save up enough to help me buy it for him.
We had found it at a farm store, and for some reason, I demanded to get it for him even though it wasn’t his style.
When Dad opened it that year for Christmas, though, he made a big deal of it.
He oohed and aahed while telling me he loved it.
He put it on that day and didn’t take it off until summer.
Then, the next year, he put it on again as soon as it started to get cold.
For five years, he repeated the process. It was in six Christmas, Valentine’s, and St. Patrick’s Day photos and in five Halloween photos. It was everywhere until one day I told him he needed to stop because it was falling apart.
He listened. The jacket stopped showing up, so I thought he got rid of it.
When I started going through his things, I thought I would find condoms, embarrassing photos from the ’80s, and other random shit, but not this.
“Hey, you okay?”
I look up and see Ridge standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“You told me you were coming over here to clean out his closet. I thought I would come help.” He moves closer.
“You didn’t have to.” I sniffle, hating the emotion in my tone.
His eyes soften. “I wanted to. What’s that you’re holding?”
I look back down at the jacket as he sits on the edge of the bed, his hip touching my knee.
“It’s a jacket my dad used to wear when I was a kid,” I admit softly.
“Tell me about it.”
A small smile fills my face as I replay the story for him that just played in my own head.
“That’s awesome. He never told me about that,” he tells me.
“I’m not surprised. It’s just a jacket.” I shrug.
“Babe, your dad wore it every day for years. He kept it in the closet. It clearly meant something to the both of you,” he reassures me.
A spark of love rushes through me. “You think so?”
“I do.”
Sighing, I set the jacket carefully on the bed, away from the donation pile and fully in the “mine” pile. It might be old and worn, but I will keep it until the day I die.
“You’ve made some progress,” he says, changing the subject.
“Yeah, I’m almost done with the closet. I didn’t realize how much shit he had shoved in there,” I say, making him chuckle.
“Hey, don’t hate. Your dad liked to keep stuff. He was sentimental that way.”
I shoot him a glare. “Yeah, including T-shirts riddled with holes that are so thin I can’t even tell you what color they originally were.”
He tips his head back and laughs, and for some reason, I have the urge to lean forward and run my tongue along his throat.
Jesus Christ.
Get it together, Rain. Your dad’s room is not the place to get turned on.
“I’d love to know what you were just thinking about,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out, if you’re lucky.” I stand and move back to the closet.
“Have you checked his dresser yet?” he asks.
I shake my head and call over my shoulder. “Have at it.”
A few seconds later, rock music starts to play quietly throughout the room, and I hear a drawer slide open.
For a little while, we work with only the sound of hair bands playing.
“Hey, is this yours?”
Leaving the closet, I walk over to him and see that he’s holding a jewelry box. Taking it from him, I open it, and my breath catches when I see the ring inside.
Not just any ring, but a wedding set.
“Holy shit, your dad had a ring just sitting in a drawer?” Ridge sounds as shocked as I feel.
The ring has a gold band with one medium-sized circular stone in the middle, with some tiny diamonds on the band. It’s nothing special in general, but it has to mean something for him to have it.
My eyes dart to the top of the box to look for the brand, but my heart stops when I see something folded in the lid.
Carefully, I remove the object and hand the box to Ridge.
Wordlessly, he steps closer to my side, resting his hand on my lower back, offering me silent support, letting me know that I’m not dealing with this revelation on my own.
I unfold the worn paper and discover it’s a photo. It’s sepia-toned, and the edges are torn. It’s clearly old, but what gets my attention is who is in it. A man and a woman, young and happy. It’s clear that they love each other by the way they are looking at one another.
Ridge’s breath catches. “Is that…”
“Not my mom. I’m pretty sure it’s my aunt,” I whisper.
“Wait, what?” he asks, shocked.
I blow out a breath as I fold the paper back up.
“I was never supposed to find out, but according to my grandma, my dad was in love with my aunt. They were together for years, happy, but one night he made a mistake. He was drunk and woke up in the middle of the night to a woman crawling into bed with him. He thought it was Aunt Heidi, but it was really her younger sister. Months later, when she was pregnant, she came forward and said the baby was his. Everyone thought it was a lie until the paternity test came back positive. Heidi took off. Dad tried to make it work with my mom, but we all know how that ended.” I shrug.
It ended with him having a baby with a woman he couldn’t stand, who left me with him and never looked back.
Ridge
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
Out of all the things she could have told me, I wasn’t expecting that.
“He never said anything,” I say, thinking about all the nights we sat talking about life.
I knew all about the shit he went through with Rain’s mom, yet he never once mentioned the sister.
He never once mentioned that he was in love once.
Even when he talked about Rain’s mom, I could tell it wasn’t love.
It was more like an obligation. My heart breaks for him, knowing he had to give up one love in order to keep the other. His daughter.
Rain shrugs. “I’m not surprised. My mom ruined his life by having me. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant with me, he would have ended up with his true love and had a family with her.”
I can see the weight this holds on her shoulders. She feels guilty for not being able to give her father that true love of his.
“You know that’s not your fault, though, right? The sins of your mother aren’t yours to carry.”
Rain looks up at me with sad eyes. “I was proof of his infidelity. Willingly or not.”
“Your dad loved you,” I remind her. “More than anything. He might have loved your aunt, but when he found out about you, you became his entire world.”
“I know,” she says softly.
I watch as she puts the picture back where it was before shutting the box and setting it back on the dresser.
“I’m surprised he kept the ring.” She pauses. “Although he probably forgot he had it.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her she’s wrong. The box was in the front of his dresser, barely concealed, and by the look of that photo, it’s been looked at a thousand times over the years.
“Your aunt, do you know her?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Know of her, yes. Actually met her, never. She took off before I was born and never looked back. Dad got really drunk one night when I was in high school and said that sometimes it hurt to look at me because I looked like her.”
“I wonder where she is or if she knows he died,” I muse.
“Who knows, and probably not. It’s none of her business, though, since she left.”
I disagree, but I keep that to myself. If I were her, I would want to know if the person I loved was gone, even if I had moved on.
I make a mental note to maybe mention it to Meek. Not to force Rain into this woman’s life or anything, but out of simple curiosity. What happened to her?
“Find anything else?” Rain asks, taking a deep breath.
“Underwear, but I decided to not touch that drawer until I have a pair of gloves,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.
The corners of her mouth tip up. “What? Are you afraid they are dirty?”
I scoff. “No, but a man should never touch another dude’s underwear.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head as she looks around the room.
“I can’t tell if we are making this better or worse,” she says after a minute.
I look around and wince. The room looks like a tornado went through it.
“I could go grab a couple of trash bags to bag up all of this.”
Rain nods. “I would appreciate it.”
I squeeze her hip and head to the kitchen. Under the sink, I find the box of trash bags and grab it.
“Got it,” I say, holding them up.
“Thanks. Your phone dinged while you were away.”
I walk over to where it sits on the dresser and see it’s the group chat with the brothers.
“Are you going to respond?” she asks when I turn back to her.
I shake my head. “They can wait.”
She gives me a curious look but moves closer to me. I resist the urge to pull her in and kiss her. I know I could if I wanted to, but it seems disrespectful while I stand in Mustang’s room.
We each grab a bag and start shoving the clothes from the floor into it. Before I know it, we have three bags stacked next to the door waiting to be taken to either the trash or donations.
“I don’t even know if I have that many clothes, period,” I say, making her laugh.
“I told you, the man didn’t like getting rid of anything.” She looks around the room once more.
“What next?” I ask her, squeezing her shoulder.
“Could you take the trash out to the cans in the garage? Tomorrow is trash day, so we can pull it out to the curb. I’ll grab another bag and empty out his underwear drawer so you don’t have to.”
“I appreciate it.” I tease, making her giggle.
I’m glad she isn’t hung up on finding the ring, that she seems to have bounced back from the shock.
Five minutes later, I rejoin her, watching as she takes in the room.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?” I ask.
Rain smiles, coming over to me as she wraps her arms around my center. “Have I told you that I love that you cook?”
“I don’t think you have,” I say as pride rushes through me.
My mind gets caught on that one little word too. Love.
I know I love her, but to hear it come from her mouth means something more.
“It’s hot,” she whispers.
For some reason, I feel my face flush.
I want to tell her we shouldn’t talk like that here. It feels wrong. Instead, I change the subject.
“So what sounds good?”
She hums for a moment. “Could you do some of those baby potatoes you made the other day with some kind of meat?”
“The baby red potatoes with oil, garlic, and rosemary?” I ask, needing her to confirm which ones she is talking about.
“Sure.” She smiles up at me.
I laugh. “Yeah, I can do those. How does sausage sound with it?”
“Hey, you’re the cook. If you think it will work, I’m here for it, and I’ll eat it.”
I smile, kissing the tip of her nose. “How did you survive before you moved in with me?”
“Very, very carefully. A whole lot of girl dinners and some basics.”
I groan. “What are girl dinners?”
“You know, a bunch of snacky or finger foods on one plate. Like peppers, pickles, and cheese and crackers, all paired together.”
“Jesus, no wonder your dad insisted we get married,” I say without thinking about it.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I look over at Rain and expect her to be upset, but she shocks me by smiling.
“You aren’t wrong. He used to ride my ass all the time for not having proper dinners.” She laughs. “Honestly, that’s exactly why he wanted you to marry me. He knew I would never go hungry again.”
I look down at her, sad. “Why didn’t you eat properly?”
She moves out of my arms and toward the front room. I follow behind her, turning off lights as I go.
“When I first moved out, I tried making things, but I quickly learned it’s hard as fuck cooking for one person. So I adapted.” She takes a deep breath. “And now I have you, who leaves me dinner even if he won’t be home.”
“And I’ll keep doing it,” I promise.
I don’t care if I have to prep meals for a week for her to heat up. I’ll make sure she never has to have a girl dinner again unless she wants to.
She smiles and ducks her head.
“You’re a charmer,” she murmurs.
“I’m your charmer.”
It’s right there. I could say it. That I love her.
I chicken out instead.
“Let’s go get you fed then. I would hate for Mustang to think I’m neglecting you.”
The sound of her laughter fills the space, and I know Mustang would have no issues with the way I treat his daughter.