“They don’t?” Then I berate myself. I’m not even slightly surprised. I don’t know Ryan well, but Dale? He didn’t want me anywhere near his baby.

“Ashley’s more than qualified,” Jade offers. “She’s working on her PhD in oenology at UCLA.”

Brendan’s eyes brighten. “A wine doctor? Impressive.”

The words “wine doctor” from Brendan’s mouth don’t sound nearly as judgmental as they do coming from Dale. Brendan truly is impressed.

I smile. “It’s what I love.”

“Hmm.” He pulls a bottle of the Steel Cab Frank from his shelf, uncorks it with ease, and pours us each a glass. “I have a nice Bordeaux I’ve been saving for a special occasion. You might be just the person to appreciate it with me. We don’t get a lot of wine connoisseurs here in Snow Creek.”

“You have Dale and Ryan,” I say.

He nods, winking. “For sure. But neither of them is really my type.”

“Oh.” I stop myself from jerking backward. He’s coming on to me. Asking me out. Sort of. I glance at Jade. She knows how I feel about her son. Does this bother her?

“It’s a Château Latour,” he says.

“Wow.” I try not to look overly surprised. The guy runs a bar. Of course he comes in contact with seven-hundred-dollar bottles of wine. “We tasted some premier crus in tasting class, but I’ve never been able to afford a bottle.”

“Then you should join me. Later this evening, maybe?”

“Actually,” Jade says, “Ashley and I were going to have dinner over at the new Italian place.”

“Lorenzo’s,” Brendan says. “Try the veal piccata. It’s wonderful.”

“So you’ve been there already?”

“Last week, on opening night. Chicken cacciatore is the specialty of the house, though, so maybe you should order that. I’m just not a huge chicken fan.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised. Brendan—much like the Steel men—looks like he was raised on red meat and potatoes. Bangers and mash, in his case.

“I’ll try it,” Jade says. “I love chicken. It’s nice to have a break from beef now and then.”

“Do they have any seafood on the menu?”

“I believe there’s a linguine with clam sauce,” Brendan says. “Probably not what you’re looking for though, California girl.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “I haven’t been here yet a week, and I’m missing my sushi and fresh catch of the day.”

“There are some great seafood restaurants in Denver,” Brendan says. “And one in Grand Junction that’s pretty good too. It’s not too far from here.”

A restaurant in Grand Junction… I was just at a restaurant in Grand Junction last evening…

And then…I had the most amazing few hours of my life.

Which won’t ever be repeated, it seems.

“Talon and I can take you into the city anytime you’re craving seafood,” Jade says. “I’m afraid fish isn’t really on Darla’s repertoire. She’s a wonderful cook, though. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind learning to cook seafood for you.”

“Oh, no. You don’t need to go to that kind of trouble. Every meal I’ve had since I got here has been delicious.”

My wine is nearly gone already. Dale’s Cab Franc glides down my throat so easily.

Jade finishes hers. “Please put these on our tab, Brendan. Are you ready, Ashley?”

I polish off the small amount left in my glass. “Yes.”

“Now wait,” Brendan says. “I can’t let you go until you agree to share my bottle of Latour.”

Both Brendan and Jade stare at me.

And I don’t have a clue what to say.

Chapter Six

Dale

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand of my father.

“It means I get it.”

“How can you possibly?” I pace across Donny’s living room. “I just went through this shit with Ashley, Dad. She tried to lecture me about my privilege. Apparently she went to bed hungry once when she was a kid.”

Or many times. I don’t know. I didn’t ask.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dad says.

“I am too, but that’s not my point. My point is she doesn’t know what Donny and I went through before we came to Steel Acres. But you… You’ve always lived there. How the hell do you know anything about keeping the past in the past?”

My father waits a moment before answering, but his nostrils are flaring. He’s trying to maintain control. He’s good at it. He rarely raised his voice to us when we were kids. Almost as if—

“I don’t owe you any explanation, Dale,” he says. “I’m still your father, and I’ve been around a lot longer than you have.”

“Yeah, Jesus, Dale.” Donny shoves his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

No big surprise. Donny always takes Dad’s side. Donny also likes to pretend those horrible months never happened. Sometimes I wish I were more like him.

“What aren’t you telling us?” I demand. “Why the hell did you take us into your home all those years ago?”

“We’ve been through this.”

“I know. I know. Because you could give us what we needed. What the fuck does that mean, Dad?”

Dad pauses again, getting control of his nostrils. “Your aunt Mel gave you the help you needed. And I had the resources to get you the best child psychologist in Denver, as well. Wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

Interesting question, and my anger subsides for a moment while I actually consider it.

Yes.

Of course, yes.

I’d help any child who needed my help. Like Dad said, I have the resources. But further, I’d also understand, having been through it myself.

I nod. “Absolutely. I will always help anyone in need.”

“Then you have your answer,” Dad says.

I don’t, but that’s his way of saying the conversation is over.

A look passes between Donny and me. A look that says we know Dad is hiding something. A look that says we’ll probably never know the truth because we’ve searched before to no avail.