King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,82

guess driving up from Billings, cornering my girlfriend, and destroying my relationship, then blaming an eight-year-old girl for the death of my mother took a lot out of her.”

Dad blinked at me, then looked back at Grams. His gaze grew pensive and his jaw tightened. He’d know better than to accuse me of overreacting. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I can only guess most of it, but I’m sure it’s pretty damn accurate. Richard Lang called Bristol. Offered to meet with her.” I propped my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples. “And I encouraged her.”

Dad walked around the bed and perched on the vinyl-covered recliner in the corner. I hadn’t wanted to sit there, choosing the office chair instead. The recliner had seemed too long term.

“Richard is a pompous ass.”

I bobbed my head. How much of Richard Lang’s behavior had I tolerated because it was what we’d always done? “Grams was there. She told Bristol about the trust.”

“Shit.” Dad adopted the same pose I was in, pushing his fingertips into his temples.

“Yeah. Bristol and I were going to meet for lunch, so I was close by when Bristol stormed out of the bank. Grams followed her and then . . .” I blew out a long breath. “And then Grams told her that Mama stayed home that night because Bristol was afraid of the guy her dad hired. Mama wanted to be around if Bristol needed to go somewhere safe.”

Dad didn’t respond. After a few moments, I glanced at him. His head was in his hands, but his eyes were closed. Yeah. It was a lot.

He lifted his head. “Well, damn.”

“Yeah.”

“We all know it wasn’t Bristol’s fault.”

“Grams doesn’t.”

“She’s hurting. She and DB took Sarah’s death pretty hard, as would any parent. Then she lost DB, and I doubt she’s gone to a damn bit of therapy.”

I chuckled without an ounce of humor. “That seems to be on brand for our family.”

The corner of Dad’s mouth lifted. “What are you still doing here?”

“Didn’t feel right leaving. Didn’t feel right to stay either.” I stood. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Xander and Aiden are coming down after Aiden’s done with work. Beck will fly out tomorrow morning. Emilia’s going to hate the fuss, but I don’t want her driving to Billings. Aiden can drive her home in her vehicle when she’s discharged.”

“Thanks for getting it arranged.”

I was almost to the door when he said, “Dawson.”

I stopped. Dad glanced at Grams, then rose and crossed to me. With a hand on my back, he guided me into the hallway. People buzzed around the nurses’ station, but we were four doors down. Our section of the hall was quiet.

Keeping his voice low, he said, “I know she’s your grams. But the next time you’re caught between her and taking care of someone you care about like you care about Bristol—choose differently next time. Your grams’s first priority is herself.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. Bristol wouldn’t hold it against me, staying with my grams until she got to the hospital. But she wouldn’t realize the depth of my feelings now that I’d stayed by Grams’s side for hours instead of making things right between us. “I’ve gotta go.”

He nodded like, Yeah, you do.

I managed not to run to my pickup or speed through town or on the highway. Once I hit gravel, I kicked the pedal down. A billowing dust cloud followed me as I turned into Bristol’s drive. Her pickup was parked outside of her trailer. I killed the engine but left the keys in and went to the RV.

Tapping on the door, I called, “Bristol, can we talk? Please?”

No answer.

I knocked again. “Bristol?”

I couldn’t have fucked this up that bad. What we had was too special.

Then you should’ve told her, dumbass.

Birds chirped. Happy-sounding shits. The wind rustled through the tall weeds along the fence posts and around the other two RVs. Crickets. But no human sounds.

I pounded harder. I didn’t want to sound irate, but the need to talk to her, to see her, pumped adrenaline through my veins. She was the hurt and angry one and she had every right to be. Grams could argue that the money was ours all she wanted, but it didn’t feel right. If it had felt right, I wouldn’t have had an issue telling Bristol about it.

I crossed to the trailer. My boots kicked up small puffs of dust that mimicked my race here. I knocked