Bourbon Harmony (Bourbon Canyon #5)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Rhys

The girls were asleep. They hadn’t wanted to miss time with June, so they’d camped out at the base of the couch. They were making June sleep on the actual couch since she was the guest.

After dinner, they had asked her to do their hair. My future might be filled with hair dye. They’d told June she should try orange next since she hadn’t done that color yet. Bethany wanted blue and Hannah planned for every color a girl could dream of in her hair.

I should’ve hidden in the bedroom hours ago, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to leave the party. I’d made myself useful. If they mentioned popcorn, I made some. If they wanted homemade Eggos, I made waffles and put them in the fridge. If they were thirsty, I ran them drinks. Now the girls’ mouths hung slack and they were sprawled over the floor, pillows piled around and under them.

June had crunched herself in the corner of the couch opposite me.

“Thank you,” I said. The kids didn’t stir at my voice.

“You’re welcome. I haven’t had fun like this since my sisters and I camped in our living room.” She ran a hand through her “styled” hair. The girls had each done a braid, then changed their minds and tried to curl June’s hair in ringlets. June’s hair stuck out of her braid like she’d been in a windstorm and the curls had frizzed. She was beautiful. And the way she’d complimented their efforts left me speechless. Bethany and Hannah had soaked it up like rainwater.

They were missing this kind of interaction with their mom. It was June who gave them the attention they craved.

June peered at me out of the corner of her eye. The princess movie the girls were watching continued to play on the TV, but I’d seen it no less than five times and June had apparently done a good job of feigning interest. “While you were gone, we were talking...”

Tension stole back into my shoulders. If my kids had no qualms about asking for a sleepover with an adult woman in front of me, what were they only willing to talk about in private? “About?”

“You don’t like to talk about when you traveled with your mom.”

I fought back memories that wanted to rise up. “No. I don’t.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “I know, but I wonder... maybe you should.”

The back of my neck grew hot. Sometimes Bethany asked about her grandparents. Kirstin’s parents lived across the country and weren’t interested in being grandparents, just like Kirstin wasn’t interested in being a mom.

That wasn’t fair. She was still in town, but she’d been going to state parks to take photos. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about, but you won’t leave Montana? You won’t leave Bourbon Canyon? Nothing to talk about, but you want nothing to do with my success?—”

“I want you to succeed?—”

“Nothing to talk about, but you sold the ranch because Wren was struggling.” Pressure built at my temples, but she continued. “Nothing to talk about, but you let Kirstin phone it in as a mom?—”

I popped up. Hannah stirred in her blankets.

“Not around them,” I whispered and stalked to the kitchen.

Her soft footsteps followed me. “I’m sorry. I do not want them to overhear, but, Rhys, that time in your life clearly defined you and... and I think it’s keeping you from letting yourself be happy.”

“I am happy.” I spun. She looked so damn young with her hair flowing over her shoulders and her eyes beseeching me to listen, to understand.

The awful thing was that I did. I knew better than anyone what those years had been like. I knew better than all of them. “It wasn’t a good time for me.”

“I know. She wasn’t a good mom.”

“No,” I said, immediately defensive. “I got in the way.” I ground my teeth together. I’d never admitted that much before. Dad had known some of it.

“How in the world could you have gotten in the way? You were a kid. ”

The ever-present shame surged through my blood vessels. “I made it hard for her.”

“How?” June’s expression was dubious. She and her sisters and brothers and even many of her foster siblings hadn’t given Mae and Darin Bailey the hard time I had given Angela Craft.

“She had a job.” The inclination to defend my mom remained after all these years. No one else had been there. No one else knew what it had been like for my mom. “Her theater practices were demanding, her auditions unpredictable. She had no family to help, and I did nothing but cause her trouble.”

“You?” She scoffed.

June only knew the mellow me. The Rhys Conner Kinkade who made sure everyone’s lives ran smoothly. She didn’t know the boy who’d made his mom’s life a living hell. The rebellious shit who hadn’t respected the person closest to him.

Maybe I did owe June some of the story. From her point of view, she’d been hurt because of my mom. I had to let her know that it was all me. “If she landed a major role, she’d have more rehearsal. The more I was at a new day care, or with a new nanny, the worse I’d act out.”

Sympathy filled her eyes. “You wanted her attention.”

“I knew better,” I said curtly. “Even at that age.”

She studied me, the doubt still in her eyes. “What else?”

Wasn’t that enough? “If she had an audition, I’d spill my drink, fall and hurt myself, or even run away. Before she brought me here to live with Dad, I got lost on the New York subway.”

Her eyes shot wide. “What?”

“On purpose. ”

Again, no recrimination. Understanding welled in those big, beautiful amber eyes, understanding I didn’t deserve. “Oh, Rhys.”

“It was a dick move. I could’ve been hurt. Mom was finally on Broadway, and she’d missed a critical rehearsal because of me. She almost got fired, but the NYPD had called the theater.” I’d known so many details, the police had had no trouble finding her. “I hadn’t wanted to stay gone forever. Just enough to... fuck up Mom’s day.”

“You were still a kid, and those were all cries for help.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “There’s more.” Since I was baring my soul and remembering those disappointed expressions of Mom’s, I might as well keep going. “I used to tell her that she couldn’t act.”

June’s lips parted.

“That was our last conversation. After she dropped me off with Dad.”

“Rhys,” she breathed. “You were so young. Have some grace with yourself.” She gestured to the sleeping girls on the floor. “If they called you a horrible father, would you believe them? Or would you think gosh, they must be upset about something, and I need to talk to them?”

I shook my head. She still wasn’t getting it. “I did all that on purpose. She had to deal with me being a punk on top of the random bloody noses I used to get and the night terrors. Sometimes, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep because of me.”

June’s mouth dropped all the way open. “How are you talking about this like any of it is your fault?”

“I was a lot to handle.”

“You. Were. A. Kid.” She straightened and righteousness lit her eyes. “That’s why you’re so chill about Kirstin? You let her run off and basically abandon?—”

“June.” I tipped my head toward the living room. The girls should be asleep, but I couldn’t risk them hearing a bad word about their mother.

She slowly inhaled, her nostrils flaring. “If roles were switched, and Bethany and Hannah had gone off with their mom and the same things had happened, what would you say?”

I’d be pissed as hell at Kirstin. “It’s not the same?—”

“It is too.”

“It’s not.”

“How are you being so obtuse? It sounds like your mom was dealt a hard hand of cards, but she?—”

“She’s dead because of me.”

June

She’s dead because of me.

I turned over what Rhys had told me all night. I’d given up on sleep when the sun crested over the horizon enough to pour through the windows.

Angela Craft had dumped her son on his dad and returned to New York for the child-free life she thought she deserved. Then she’d been hit by a taxi on her way to rehearsal.

Rhys blamed himself.

He blamed himself for everything. A kid who’d likely had a narcissistic and neglectful mother .

Why couldn’t he see it? He’d never put that sort of pressure on the girls or blame them.

Did his self-recrimination and the flimsy support of his mother make it impossible for us to have a future?

I rolled to my side. Bethany popped her head up and blinked sleep out of her eyes.

“Is it morning?” she asked groggily.

“Yeah, but it’s early.”

She frowned and peeked at her sister. “Can I cuddle with you?”

Would Rhys mind? Could I say no to that vulnerable request? “Come on up.”

She scrambled onto the couch and wiggled between me and the cushions. When she was settled, her head was on my chest and she was snuggled into my side. “I miss having a mommy.”

“I’m sure she misses you, but you get to have her around before she leaves again.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t cuddle like this. She never really did,” she said sadly. “Did your mom?”

“Yes, both of them loved to cuddle.”

She frowned at me. “You got two moms?”

“My birth mom, and then Mama Mae adopted me and my sisters.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” She was quiet for several heartbeats. “Did your birth mom leave you too?”

“She couldn’t help it,” I said gently. “She died in a car accident.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, hon.”

She was quiet so long I thought she had fallen asleep. “I used to be really mad at Mommy,” she whispered.

Poor girl. “That’s understandable. ”

She lifted her head, her eyes wide and worried. “It is?”

“Yeah. I was mad at my birth mommy and daddy, but as an adult, I know they did the best they could. Sometimes,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’d even get mad at Mama Mae.”

She giggled. “But Mama Mae didn’t leave you.”

“No. She didn’t. Sometimes she cares a lot and it can be stressful.” I rubbed her shoulder. “Have you talked to your daddy about this?”

“No.”

“He might need to know you’re feeling this way.”

“Who’s feeling what way?” Rhys’s voice broke in.

I found him standing at the end of the hallway. He was wearing the gray sweats from the night we’d almost gotten busted after making out and a loose white shirt that draped over his chest and settled around his hips. His hair was mussed and he was scratching his beard.

The other reason I hadn’t been able to sleep was because he wasn’t next to me. How spoiled I’d gotten in those two weeks. Waking up next to the one I loved wasn’t something I’d ever take for granted. If I ever got to experience it again.

Bethany shrank against me. I didn’t want to out her in front of her dad when she’d confided in me about something, but I hoped she’d talk to him soon. “Nothing, just girl talk.”

He narrowed his eyes on us. “Sure.” He shuffled to the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Bethany said in a small voice.

“I really do think you need to talk to your dad about this. Can you think about it?”

“Yeah. ”

“Maybe if Hannah feels the same way, you can do it together.”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

I let her rest until the bathroom door opened. Rhys shuffled back out. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze went from his daughter to me. “Hungry?” he asked gruffly.

Bethany nodded, her hair scraping against me.

Hannah woke up and stretched. “Morning, Daddy.” She scanned the room, and when she spotted her sister, she climbed on top of me too. I hugged both girls to me. Another experience I might never get.

It wasn’t too late for me to have kids, but I didn’t want them with a guy like Finn. Or Clinton or Toby. They might make good dads, but a shitty husband was still a bad role model.

Damn my standards.

Damn Rhys for his convictions.

The muscles jumped in Rhys’s jaw and he cleared his throat. “I’ll make some pancakes.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” the girls said in unison.

We snuggled while Rhys cooked. A girl could get used to this.

A girl might want to wake up like this every morning.

A girl might remember those plans and dreams she’d had with a boy that included a house and kids and a dog just like Goldie. Maybe one that didn’t eat random objects and throw up until she had to go to the emergency vet.

Rhys popped back out, spatula in one hand, looking so different than I’d pictured him when we were younger. He was more serious, but now I could see—he was just as withdrawn. He protected himself as much as he protected others from himself.

He made his life about others.

When had others made their lives about him?

He furrowed his brows and shot me a questioning look.

I shook my head.

He lifted his chin in acknowledgment. A silent conversation. “Food’s done.”

A verbal conversation would have to wait—if we ever had it. A girl could only get rejected so many times by the man she was in love with.

“What are you going to do after we eat, Junie?” Hannah asked. She didn’t move from me. Neither did Bethany.

“I’ll probably go home and clean up. Then I might see if my sister wants help in the bar at the distillery.” It wasn’t open on Mondays, but Autumn liked to catch up with inventory and books. Wynter would be at work too. Maybe even Summer.

Bethany sat up. “Can we see the distillery?”

Rhys braced himself as soon as the question was out of her mouth. His jaw clenched and his gaze said not again .

I liked when he squirmed. The man ran from some of his problems and he couldn’t right now. I enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable.

“That’s up to your dad.” I smiled brightly and his scowl deepened. I’d love to take them around the distillery, but in true Rhys fashion, he wanted to return to his plan to put distance between us.

He tapped a finger against the spatula handle. “I have to get some work done. ”

“Later?” Hannah asked. “Can we?”

“Can we, please?” Bethany added. “I’ve never been there.”

This was the time I found his pathological need to please the women in his life useful. The moment he relented to their begging was apparent in the acceptance in his eyes and the loosening of his shoulders. “June?”

I bit back a triumphant grin. “I can give them a tour anytime today if they’d love to smell some yeast farts.”

“Yeast farts?” Hannah dissolved into giggles.

Bethany snickered.

I might’ve said that on purpose. The yeast farts got all the kids.

He grunted. “I’ll see what I can get done first.”

“Yeah!” The girls jumped off me and ran to the kitchen.

“Don’t wait for me. I’m going to clean up quick,” I called to Rhys and went to the bathroom. His cedar-and-soap scent hung in the air. I inhaled deeply. This week could not be the last time I was surrounded by the scent of Rhys. It could not be the last time I was part of the girls’ lives.

It could not be the end of me and Rhys.

But was I right to keep going down this path? If I wasn’t what Rhys ultimately wanted, who was I to question it?

When I was finished in the bathroom, I went into the guest room to put on some fresh clothes. I closed the door and set my toiletry kit on the dresser. The box of memorabilia of me and Rhys was on the edge.

Smiling, I grabbed the image from the top. Our prom picture. I was wearing a dress that had a fitted skirt that glittered like a mermaid tail. Bethany had said she wanted her hair dyed to look like that.

Since I’d told them not to wait, I dug farther into the box, beyond where we’d rummaged through when Wren had first returned it to Rhys. I found pictures of us from middle school. Some pictures of us with his 4-H animals. At the very bottom was a small paper rectangle. A ticket.

I knew that logo.

I pulled the ticket out. The Grand Ole Opry.

When had he?—

The date on the ticket was when I’d first performed. Shortly before Summer had told me that Rhys and Kirstin were divorcing.

Confusion swirled in my brain. He hadn’t been there. Had he gotten this ticket from someone who was? No, the only people I knew who’d come that night were my family, who’d flown out. I hadn’t recognized anyone else.

How had he . . .

He’d run me off from the funeral, and then he’d attended my dream performance?

I wanted to be there when you walked off the stage.

I wanted to kiss that big smile on your face.

My surprise gave way to anger. He’d been there that night. He’d supported me like he always had, and he’d hidden it. Like he was a toxic cloud that would taint my success.

I stuffed the ticket in the pocket of my skirt and returned all the pictures and article clippings to the box.

I’d always been told that, despite being adopted, I possessed a lot of Bailey stubbornness. It was time to find out just how stubborn I could be.