"Stop, Colt."
He laughed, but the bitterness in his throat scratched a bit. "Rich, spoiled brats, and Vicki proved it the day she tossed her child away because motherhood interfered with college parties."
Alice said, "Colt, you're repeating yourself because you're stuck. It's possible you were both victims in this."
"That shouldn't matter. Clara is all that matters."
"She should know her mom."
"Clara deserves parents who will raise her, and take care of her, like I've done since the day she was born." His shoulders dropped. Yelling at his sister wouldn't solve anything. "It's my job to protect my baby."
"You're doing a great job."
His muscles tensed despite the compliment. "Clara is all that matters."
His sister released a loud sigh then told him, "And you've always done right by her."
He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes while he told her the truth: "Alice, I never wanted to see her again."
"Not everything is black and white. This isn't war. You're all my family now, through Clara, through me."
His sister had a point. Fighting Vicki meant he'd need a battle plan to protect Clara. The Morgans were like gods, and they always got what they wanted. Alice must have guessed she'd scored a point with him, because she ran the next few sentences together in one breath. "Call me in the morning. I'm going to talk you into talking with her. Tonight, I listened to Vicki, and I believe her. The villain was her father. He signed both your names on those adoption papers."
He sucked in his breath. Vicki had to be involved in this too. She had been in the hospital and given birth. He shook his head. "It took me over a year to prove my name had been forged."
"I remember you talking to our dad, and bits and pieces of those whispered conversations make sense now. You all hushed up when I walked into the room." She added fast, "And if yours was a fake, hers could have been too."
"I knew you'd defend your friend. It's why I never wanted to talk about Victoria with you." He rolled his eyes. "Vicki's a good liar."
"Stop."
Colt held his breath and waited for the rest. Alice, like everyone else in his family, never took no for an answer.
She continued, "Please, you're angry right now. Tonight, just think about this."
She hadn't yelled. He told his sister, "Good night."
"Night." It sounded like she had more to say, but held it back.
Colt sipped his beer and hung up. The story was full of holes, and he'd prove it. Silence greeted his ears, yet he had too much energy coursing through him right now.
Heat flushed his body, and he stared at his phone. Belle's number was in his favorites. Perhaps he needed to have an adult conversation. He scrolled to his fiancée's number, but didn't hit the button to call her. Belle Jordan deserved his full attention, and he shouldn't stir up his anger. Belle never pushed him off a ledge. He clicked on her name to stare at her picture. Belle was probably busy. She was always on the go.
He scrolled through all his contacts. His neck heated. Belle had always respected his parental rights to call all the shots with Clara. The dark-haired woman he'd agreed to marry always agreed with him. He should call her. His mother's number passed through his scrolling. His parents had a big part in raising Clara whenever he couldn't, but they might be sleeping.
Without a thought either way, he scrolled down to Victoria Morgan's name. He kept all his contacts still, and her old number was there. Had Vicki changed her number? This one was from college. Their daughter was about to start first grade now. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at her number. Without thinking, he hit "call" and the phone rang.
He assumed he'd talk to a stranger, but she answered two rings later, "Hello?"
One more reason he'd not trust her. If he had her number still, then she shouldn't have the high pitch of shock in her voice. One phone call would have changed his life. He hadn't changed his number. "Vicki. Had you lost my number?"
With a heavy sigh that sounded sad, she answered, "Colt. No, I knew it was you."
Then she could have called him years ago. "Why didn't you call?"
"I didn't know you'd answer."
He stood up and threw his beer bottle in the trash, then cracked his knuckles. "What did you plan to accomplish with that stunt you pulled today?"
"I'm sorry. Colt, I had no idea she was alive. My father—"
"Don't..." The sweat on his forehead grew, and he picked up another beer bottle, not that liquor helped. "Save the sob story for someone else. Clara's not a ball to win in a game. She's my baby girl, and I won't let anyone hurt her."
"Please, Colt." Her voice shook. "She's my baby too."
His nose was itchy. "You gave up all rights to her. I have the paperwork."
"That's not what happened." Vicki's voice had a singsong edge to it that burned his ears. "You left home and slept with Belle the first week of basic training."
"That's nonsense, and not an excuse for what happened."
"I couldn't live under my father's house, but if I knew you had Clara, I'd have come straight to you."
She could have come to him with or without their baby. He bit his lower lip, and the fury in his blood grew. "You abandoned her. I kept our daughter."
She took a deep breath, but then her voice had a melancholy sound to it. "You were once sweet and understanding, Colt. I was lied to. I never had a father like you. Mine demanded I do what he say."
Colt lost some of his steam. "I remember your old man."
Vicki repeated facts he remembered: "He held a shotgun to your head that summer he found out about us in Paris. You'd ruin his plans for me, and he said that before I even knew I was pregnant."
"He had seen us naked at the lake." Colt crossed his arms. "I'd shoot any boy that came near Clara."
"It's not the same thing. My father sought to control."
His collar grew tight. "You could have called me. If you were in trouble, I could have kept you safe too."
"You're talking about my father and my family. He was all I had, all I knew." Vicki sobbed for a second then composed herself. "I don't want to fight with you. I'm happy my baby had you to keep her safe."
His entire body tensed. "Don't call her that. Clara is nothing but gum under your shoe until the second a new idea pops into your head."
"No." She almost broke into sobs. He rubbed his neck again to find some relief, but her voice haunted him. "I've not lived a day in six years, one months, two weeks, one day, and twenty-two hours. That was when the doctors told me she died."
Her numbers added up, and he hated hurting anyone. He dared not believe her, but his gut told him to. He shook his head, but her shaky numbers chipped away at him. With his lips sealed, he tapped his tongue to his cheek, and depended on his logic. Finally he opened his mouth and said, "Where were you?"