He gasps in mock surprise. “Say it’s not so!”
I can’t help a giggle. “Some high school girls are very social, but so are some high school guys. But I get what you mean. It’s different.”
“Yeah. Snow Creek is hardly a thriving metropolis, so the guys in our class were all friends. Everyone liked Dale, and he liked everyone else as far as I know. But there was something different about him.”
“He’s closed off,” I say.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“I know. I’ve been working with him since I got here.” And sleeping with him…
“So you’ve experienced it.”
“Yeah, which is weird, because his brother doesn’t seem that way at all. Of course I’ve hardly said two words to him. He was here for one day before Diana left for Denver.”
Brendan nods. “Donny’s definitely different.”
“I wonder why he still goes by Donny.”
“His real name is Donovan. It’s what he prefers, I guess.”
“Do you remember when Dale and Donny came to the ranch?”
“Yeah. They were both quiet at first. We were still in elementary school. Donny opened up pretty quickly.”
“But not Dale.”
“Right. Not Dale.”
I can’t imagine Dale ever opening up to anyone, so what Brendan says next surprises me.
“He and Donny went through a lot of therapy, or so I heard.”
Therapy requires a lot of opening up. “Why would they need therapy?”
He shakes his head. “Beats me. Maybe they came from an abusive home or something. I mean, why else would two brothers be adopted when they were ten and seven? They were probably in the social services system, and Talon and Jade adopted them from there.”
Why? Good question. From what I’ve learned, the Steels are generous people, but taking on two young boys who probably came from less than optimal circumstances… But did they? Dale himself told me he never went hungry.
Of course, not going hungry and being abused aren’t mutually exclusive.
An ache squeezes at my heart. I can’t bear the thought of Dale enduring any kind of abusive situation.
“What happened to their parents?” I ask.
“No one really knows. The Steels kept the whole thing pretty quiet. I probably shouldn’t say this…”
“Say what?”
“I like the Steels. They’re great. They do a ton for this town, and they support all the local businesses. And I like Dale and Donny. But public records have a way of disappearing sometimes, if you get my drift.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You’re not the first person to wonder about Dale and Donny’s past. Most people in town have at one time or another. But there’s nothing out there. Nothing.”
“Maybe you’re not looking in the right places.”
“It’s not like anyone’s hired a PI or anything. It’s not our business, and most of us can’t afford it anyway. But people wonder, you know?”
I nod. I know. I’m probably more curious than anyone in Snow Creek, because I’m in love with one of them.
“Then with Jade being the city attorney, and all,” Brendan continues. “She has access to all local and state records. Probably even federal records.”
“That doesn’t mean she can make them disappear.”
“No, but the Steels can pay for just about anything they want. If they want something—or someone—to disappear, they can make it happen.”
Shivers crawl across my back. “Someone? Are you kidding me? They could make someone disappear?”
Brendan twists his lips. “I can see you bring out things in me that I don’t normally talk about. We haven’t even started the wine yet.”
I smile coyly. “By all means, let’s taste it. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dale
Dad shakes me this time, gripping my shoulders. “Dale! What the hell is going on? Open your fucking eyes!”
I hesitate, but only for a split second.
This is my dad. The man who rescued me. The man who loves me and whom I love.
My eyelids flutter open. He’s blurry at first—dark hair, flesh, and the pinkness of his cheek and eye.
He’ll have a black eye tomorrow. A black eye that I gave him.
“What is it, son?”
Son.
The word cascades over me. I’m still his son. I just punched him, and I’m still his son.
“Dale! For God’s sake, talk to me.”
I part my trembling lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind about that,” he says. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“You’re…”
“What? Answer me!”
“You’re concerned about what I need?”
“Of course I am. You’re my son.”
My son. Not for long. Not when he discovers who I truly am.
“But I just…”
“You sure as hell did. Where’d you learn to punch like that?”
Dad taught Donny and me how to fight. The father and son talk about how to turn the other cheek whenever possible but to defend yourself if you have to.
I gave him a martial arts punch, though. Something I learned on my own.
“An…app,” I say. True story.
“It’s a damned good app.” He loosens his hold on me. “I’m going to get up now. And then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”