at first. But the heart wants what the heart wants, Dale. There’s not a lot of rhyme and reason to it in the beginning sometimes. If you dig deeper, you’ll see that the heart and head can be in agreement.”
I shake my head. “I hardly know Ashley.”
“You know her better than you think you do.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because you’re very stingy with your affection, Dale, but you’re giving it to her. Somewhere inside you, you know she’s worth it.”
I rub at my temples, trying to soothe the headache that erupts whenever I try to make sense of my emotions. “I’m still being stingy with my affection. And damn, it’s difficult with her. I want to give her everything.”
“What’s stopping you?”
The monster inside me. The chaos. The ride into hell.
But I don’t say any of this to my father. Instead, “What do I do now?”
“My best advice?” He smiles. “Don’t fuck it up.”
My father, as usual, doesn’t mince words, but it’s advice I fear I won’t be able to heed. I don’t know how to love Ashley. Not the way she wants me to.
And what I want from her… She won’t know how to give her love to someone like me.
The buzz of my phone interrupts my thoughts. It’s a group text from Brock.
Dad and I are heading into town for a drink at Murphy’s. Anyone want to join?
Dad glances at his phone, presumably at the same text.
“I could use a cold one.” He points to his eye. “You up for it?”
Given that Ashley is no doubt out with Brendan Murphy this very minute, I’m up for it.
“Absolutely.” I shove my phone back into my pocket after texting that Dad and I will join. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ashley
Chills skitter over my flesh.
If you cross them, you may just disappear.
Brendan’s warning doesn’t sound like any of the Steels I know. Everyone’s been perfectly kind to me. All except the one I’m in love with, that is.
Faked deaths? Faked documents?
What the actual fuck?
I drop my fork onto my plate with a clatter.
“You’re kidding, right?” I finally say.
“In a manner of speaking. I like the Steels. But I can’t deny the fact that there are a lot of secrets about them that no one knows.”
“So you don’t think I’m in any danger?”
“No, of course not. Just stay on their good side.”
“Was your great-uncle ever on their bad side?” I ask with wide eyes.
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, he was Brad Steel’s best man.”
“Then his death was an accident.”
“Maybe. But he was a healthy and robust twenty-two-year-old. How many healthy and robust twenty-two-year-olds drop dead at weddings?”
I don’t have an answer for him. So I decide to change the subject back to my own person of interest.
“Tell me more about Dale in high school.”
“He was bright. Really smart. But he hated sitting in a classroom. He was fidgety all the time. In the earlier years, the teachers were pretty lenient with him. I’m not sure why. Any of the rest of us would have gotten detention for what he pulled.”
“What exactly did he pull?”
“Nothing horrible, but he distracted the class a lot. He tapped his pencil on the desk nonstop. Or he squirmed in his seat. Stuff like that.”
“That hardly sounds like anything abnormal.”
“It’s not abnormal…for a five-year-old. An eleven-year-old should be able to sit still.”
“Maybe he had ADHD,” I say, but I know already Dale doesn’t have ADHD. If he did, it would have been diagnosed and treated long ago.
“I remember talking to my mom at the time, and that was her response as well. But he didn’t have the other symptoms of ADHD. He didn’t have problems focusing, just sitting still.”
“Did it get better?”
“Eventually. By high school he was able to sit through classes. But during passing periods he ran laps around the school building. Seriously.”
I widen my eyes. “Wow. Really?”
“Yeah. It was the strangest thing. He never stayed for any extracurricular activities.”
“You just said he attended dances.”
“He did. But he didn’t help plan them. Didn’t play any sports. Didn’t participate in any clubs. Not that we had a lot of options at Snow Creek High.”
“He didn’t go to college…” I murmur, more to myself than to Brendan.
“He did for a semester,” Brendan says. “We went to Mesa together in Grand Junction. But it wasn’t for him.”
“He needed to be outdoors,” I say.
“Maybe. But like I said, he didn’t play any sports at school, despite being built like a tree trunk. The football coach was after him since