Freed (Steel Brothers Saga 18)

I shouldn’t let myself off the hook either.

I love her. She makes me feel things I never thought I had any business feeling.

I still have no business feeling them, but…

I will try…

I will try to be all that she deserves.

And God help me if I fail.

My brother corners me once the meeting has ended. “I’m happy for you,” he says.

I wrinkle my forehead. “Why? My vines just went up in flames.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was talking about Ashley.”

“Oh.” I can’t help smiling slightly.

“I talked to Dee. She says Ashley’s great, and she must be if she brought you to your knees. Never thought I’d see the day.” He shakes his head and chuckles.

“I’m not exactly on my knees here,” I retort.

“Easy, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. You deserve happiness, Dale.”

“Do I?” So much he doesn’t know.

“You always have. You’re the only one who never thought you did.”

Again, so much he doesn’t know. I say only, “If you say so.”

“I say so. I’ve always said so.”

“Things seem a lot easier for you,” I say.

He shakes his head again. “Are you kidding me? Do you think I don’t have nightmares? Do you think I don’t have memories?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. I’m a human being, just as you are. The only difference is I’ve made an effort—and it’s a big effort sometimes, trust me—not to let the past rule my life.”

My brother is strong, no doubt. But he’s also a different personality than I am. He’s an extrovert to my introvert. He needs to be around others. Others give him energy, and with that energy, he’s able to fight the demons harder.

And of course, his demons are different. He doesn’t have the darkest demon that haunts my soul. He’ll never have it, and I’m glad of it. I don’t wish it on anyone, especially not my own brother.

“You’re a good man, Dale,” he says. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Is she?”

He grips my shoulder. “She is. She knows it. The rest of us know it. You just have to believe it yourself.”

I scoff softly.

“I’m serious, man. The only thing holding you back is you.” Donny releases my shoulder. “You want to go into town and have a drink?”

“At Murphy’s?”

“You know another bar in town?” He laughs.

“I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself. I want to talk to some of the locals. Haven’t seen them in a while.”

“I’m sure Brock and Henry can accommodate you.”

“I’m sure they can, but I’d rather have a drink with my big brother.”

I sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Tell Ashley,” he says. “Bring her along.”

I spy Ashley talking with Dee and Bree. “All right. Be right back.”

Chapter Twenty

Ashley

I’m determined not to play pool at Murphy’s. Brendan, who apparently isn’t working tonight, joins Brock and Henry at a table. I sit at the bar with Dale, sipping a glass of Ruby. None of the older Steels joined us, but nearly all the younger ones did. Only Angie and Sage are missing, as they had plans to get together with some girlfriends from their high school class.

Ava joins the others at the pool table. Does she know Brendan has a super crush on her? He’s eleven years her senior, but Dale and I are ten years apart. Being with him feels as natural as air to me.

“Hey, Dale!” Brock calls out. “You’re the one to beat. Come play.”

Dale looks over his shoulder. “No thanks. Not tonight.”

“If you want to play, go ahead,” I tell him. “I promise I won’t play.”

“Not in the mood.” He takes a sip of wine.

He’s still hurting. How I wish I could ease his pain. Then he turns to me. “Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Sure. Of course. Anything.”

“Tell me about your mom.”

I widen my eyes. “What about her?”

“You’re close to her, right?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I mean, she has issues with my whole oenology interest. She thinks I should have gone into something a little more stable.”

He nods. “But other than that?”

“Yeah, we’re close. Why?”

“And the fact that…” he hedges.

I swallow and then bite my lips slightly. “The fact that my father raped her? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to bring it up.”

“It’s okay. I only found out about that recently, as you know, and I’ve always felt, from the very beginning, how much my mother loves me and what I mean to her. She never let it make a difference.”

“Good. That’s good. She must be a strong woman.”

“Absolutely. She’s been through hell. She got us off the streets by herself.”

He nods again. “Tell me, then. How do you show her that you love her?”

I open my mouth and then close it. How do I answer that question? “I’m not sure,” I finally say. “She just knows.”

“Do you tell her?”

“Sometimes, but it’s not like we fawn all over each other and say it every day.”

“Then how does she know?”