The air shifted then, becoming less sticky and more chilly. Instead of encasing my skin, it felt more like it was attacking it. “I’ll never forget,” I whispered.
“You were catatonic and hadn’t left your room all day. I was worried, beyond worried.” Dad kicked at the same patch of earth I’d been working to death with the toe of my shoe. “You were dealing with so much, and I thought bringing Boone back into your life would set you off into a tailspin. You were fragile.”
My shoulders lifted then fell. “I’d lost a lot in a matter of four days.”
“I didn’t know what or who would be the one to pull the pin from you, baby, but I knew if I wasn’t careful, it would happen. Boone seemed like the most likely suspect, so I did what I had to do to keep him away.”
I swallowed and hugged my body. It was barely nine at night in the dead of summer in the south, so why did I feel like I’d been locked inside of a walk-in freezer? “What did you have to do?”
“Offered him a stack of cash. A thick stack.” He pinched his fingers together to show just how thick.
“You paid him off to stay away.” I should have known. I should have at least guessed.
“I would have done so much more.” He clasped his hands together and let his shoulders drop. “I did do so much more.”
“What does that mean?”
He was quiet for so long, I was almost convinced he wasn’t going to answer me. I knew from experience that trying to pry something from my dad was about as successful an endeavor as trying to pry a cub from a mama grizzly bear’s paws.
“I told him you lost the baby.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the night in front of us. “I told him it was gone. You should have seen him, Clara Belle. The life drained right out of his face. I’d never seen a person fall apart like that, right in front of me.” Dad stared at that space like eighteen-year-old Boone was in front of him all over again. “That lasted for about a minute, then he made a run for the door. He’s always been one strong son of a bitch, even for a kid, and I couldn’t hold him back. So I told him what I had to in order to get him to go away.”
My heart was beating so loudly, it drowned out the music from the band on the front lawn. “What did you tell him? What did you tell him, Daddy?”
He shook his head, glaring at that space in front of him like he was cursing it. “I told him that you’d had an—”
“Abortion.” An imposing shadow stepped out of the same space my dad had been staring at. “That you’d walked into some clinic and had our baby aborted.”
Dad shot to a stand, holding out his hand as he stepped in front of me. “Now, Boone, you’re walking in on the tail end of this conversation. I’d suggest you take a step back, cool that hot head of yours, and listen to what Clara has to say.”
My father’s posture indicated he was trying to protect me from Boone. From what, I didn’t know, but didn’t he see? I hadn’t needed protection from Boone—I’d needed protection from my family. From my father, and whatever lies he’d woven that were just as responsible as Ford’s for tearing Boone and me apart. From telling Boone I’d . . .
What had he just said? Abortion? My mind was lagging behind, not quite capable of keeping up with the moment.
When Boone looked at me, betrayal drowning in his eyes, I finally got it—why he’d left me like he had. So sudden. So final.
“I’m done listening to what she has to say,” he said, backing away from me like I was a viper about to strike.
He hadn’t just bought one lie back then—he’d bought two. He’d listened to Ford and my father, not even thinking to confirm what they’d said with me. I suddenly felt like that viper, ready to spew venom in Boone’s direction.
Thrusting off the porch, I stood as tall as I could. “You’ve never been ready to hear me out, Boone. You’ve been too busy listening to everyone else.”
And then I walked away. Again. For the second night in a row. I was hurt and confused and felt betrayed by so many people for so many reasons.
I didn’t really know where I was going until I wound up in my bedroom and slid the window open. I’d worked out so many problems and tears on this roof, it should have collapsed from the weight years ago.
After crawling out and finding a good spot, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. Not over this. Not again. Not after finding out three men who’d held important roles in my life had all betrayed me. For whatever reasons—selfish or unselfish—they’d hurt me and cut me out of the equation, leaving me to be the victim of their outcome instead of the creator of my own.