And I don’t know him.

I don’t know him at all.

So much about him makes more sense now, though. Why he’s such a loner. Why small things set him off sometimes.

Why he’s so secretive…

“What do I say to him?” I ask, my voice monotone.

“Nothing,” Talon says.

“I can’t keep this from him. He has to know that I know.”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” Talon says.

“Will I?” I shake my head.

“You will. Or he will. He will tell you, Ashley. It’s just a matter of when.”

“The time would have been before he married me.”

“In a perfect world, yes,” Talon agrees, “but this isn’t a perfect world, and Dale isn’t a perfect man.”

“He’s close,” I say.

“Spoken like a woman in love.” Ryan smiles.

“I am in love. You must believe me. I know it hasn’t been long, but—”

“You don’t have to reassure us,” Talon says. “We Steels have a history of falling fast and falling hard.”

“What can I do?” I ask. “I want to help him. I want to…”

What? I want to what?

“You want to free him,” Talon says. “I understand. But you can’t. Only Dale can free himself.”

“I can’t even imagine what he goes through.”

They’re both silent.

“It was a long time ago,” Talon finally says, “but you’re right. Some things stay with you.”

“How will he ever be free?”

“Being free isn’t a matter of forgetting,” Talon replies. “It’s a matter of dealing with something that never goes away. You’re helping him, Ashley. More than you know.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything at all.”

“You’ve brought feelings out in him that his mother and I thought might never surface,” Talon says. “For that, we’re very grateful to you.”

I nod. I have no idea what else to say.

Silence reigns for what seems like an hour but is only about five minutes.

“I need to see Dale,” I finally say. “When will he be back from his business trip?”

Ryan sighs. “He’s not on a business trip, Ashley.”

“Where is he, then?”

“He went to his birth father’s home. To dispose of his belongings.”

I widen my eyes. “I could have gone with him. Made it easier on him.”

“This is something he had to do alone,” Talon says.

“What about Donny? Shouldn’t he be involved?”

“Donny went back to Denver while you were in LA. He’s needed at his firm. He asked Dale to take care of it, and Dale agreed.”

I nod. “Of course Dale agreed. He’s still taking care of Donny.”

Talon smiles. “You understand him more than you realize.”

“Oh, God…” The nausea returns with a vengeance. “He… Donny…”

“Yes,” Talon says. “Both of them, and yes, Dale did what he could to protect his little brother.”

“Oh, God…” I say again.

“He’s a good man,” Talon says. “A strong man, with good values and a wonderful heart. He deserves happiness, and with you, Jade and I think he’ll finally find it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure on me,” I can’t help saying.

“Don’t think of it that way.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I love him. I want to devote my life to him. I just hope I’m enough.”

“You are. Believe that.”

I regard Dale’s father—the man who, by Dale’s assessment, knows him better than anyone else.

I have to trust that he knows what’s best for his son.

And if he says it’s me, I need to believe it.

I love him so, so much, and I don’t doubt his love for me.

I just hope it’s enough to break him free of the cuffs he still holds himself in.

Until he’s willing to free himself, I’m afraid of what he may do.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Dale

The dive bar that doesn’t even have a name sits in a seedy area of Grand Junction. Dad opens the door for me, and I walk in.

“Talon Steel!” an old barkeep says. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Dad says. “Meet my son Dale. He’s twenty-one today.”

“And you brought him here?” The barkeep guffaws.

“Nowhere else I’d bring him.” He sits down on a barstool and nods to me to sit next to him.

“Nice to meet you,” the bartender says. “I’m Luke.”

“The usual,” Dad says. “Two.”

“You got it.” Luke slides two drinks in front of us.

Dad raises his glass. “To my firstborn.”

I grab mine and clink it to his. Then I take a drink—

My eyes tear as what can only be battery acid burns my throat. “What the hell is this?” I gasp.

“You were expecting Peach Street?”

“Maybe not here, but I sure wasn’t expecting this rotgut.”

“You get used to it,” Dad says. “In fact, you learn to like it on occasion.”

I grew up with the finer things—for the last eleven years anyway, and before that, I never tasted alcohol. I’m used to good wine and spirits, which this brown stuff definitely is not.

“What occasion might that be?” I ask. “Surely not my twenty-first birthday.”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you?” Dad takes another sip of the crap and then exhales harshly. “It takes a bit, but there’s a strange beauty in the causticity of it.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “My first legal drink, and you bring me here?”

“Yes, your first legal drink, the minute you’re entitled to it.”

I shake my head again. Dad’s always marched to the beat of his own drummer, just like I do. But I don’t get what he’s doing here. I raise my eyebrows in question.

“I learned a lot about myself in this place,” he says. “Met a man named Mike, who in some ways I think might have been my guardian angel.”