Page 71 of Turn of the Tides
Presley’s gaze lifted to mine, and I knew what was coming from the sadness swimming in her eyes. “It was your father,” she admitted quietly.
Chapter Thirty-Three
PRESLEY
I hatedHank Wade more than I’d ever hated anyone in my entire life. Not because of what he was trying to do to me, but because of the devastation on Beau’s face. I hated telling him the truth and had actually considered keeping the whole thing to myself, because I knew what would happen. But in the end, I knew he’d figure it out. Owning that bar was my dream. My future, and I knew I wouldn’t have been able to hide what was happening for long.
Now he was taking what his piece-of-shit father was doing and internalizing it, adding it to the weight already stacked on his shoulders. But this wasn’t his weight to carry.
“This is my fault.”
And there it was.
His voice was low, devoid of all emotion. He was shutting down. I’d seen it twice before, and I couldn’t let it happen again.
“He’s doing this because of me.”
“No.” I twisted in my seat and reached out, taking his face in my hands. “No, baby. This isn’t your fault.”
He shook his head, the pain in his eyes almost too much for me to bear. “It is. You know it is. He’s trying to hurt you because of me. I can’t let him do that, Bubbles. I?—”
“He won’t,” I insisted quickly. “He’s not going to hurt me, and he’s not going to win, Beau. I don’t know how he found out Diane and I were talking about selling the bar to me, but it doesn’t matter. She told him no.”
The fact that she’d turned down his offer of ten percent over Dropped Anchor’s current estimated value only made me love the woman even more. It was a ridiculous amount of money. Obscene, actually. But that didn’t matter to her. To her, we were a family. And she wanted to keep her legacy going.
“She promised me the only way she’s selling the bar is if it’s me she’s selling to, so he can try throwing all the money he wants at her, but in the end, it’s not going to matter. I’ll get that loan and the bar will be mine.”
I’d hoped that would help to ease his concerns, but his features didn’t change. “It doesn’t matter. Presley, if she refuses to sell to him, he’ll try something else. It’s never going to stop. This is because of me?—”
“No, son.”
Beau and I turned to face my father, his expression full of anger as he clutched Mom’s hand on top of the table. It was the very same look I got whenever Beau pushed my buttons. I might have gotten my sunny disposition from my mother, but my rage was all Alan Fields. He looked like he was about ready to rip someone’s head off. Meanwhile, my mom was nibbling anxiously on her bottom lip, her skin sallow.
“This isn’t on you, Beau,” Dad assured him. “The truth is, your old man’s doing this because of me.”
“What?” My brows pulled together in confusion. “What does it have to do with you? I mean, you guys barely know each other.”
My mom spoke next. “That’s true, but Hank and I grew up with each other.” She let out a sigh before turning to my father and giving him a tiny smile. He squeezed her hand as though to silently communicate he was right there, and he had her back.
“Presley, sweetheart. You know I grew up here before I moved away for college.” I nodded, having heard the story of how she got into college in Idaho and how she met my father not long after. The two of them had fallen in love, gotten married, and started a life in Boise. That was where I’d been raised until my grandfather got sick and they decided to move to Mom’s hometown.
“Well, Hank and I went to school together.” She made a noise of disgust as she shook her head. “No offense intended, sweetheart,” she said to Beau, “but your father was a selfish, self-centered ass even back then.”
Instead of taking offense, Beau snorted, humor laced through his words as he told her, “That sounds on brand for the old man.”
“He was always causing trouble, just because he could. Always picking fights with the kids he thought he was better than. It’s my nature to always give a person the benefit of the doubt, but Hank Wade was mean down to his bones. And unfortunately, he had an eye for me.”
The air whooshed right out of my lungs. “You—you mean he liked you?”
“As much as a narcissist can like anyone, I suppose. Mainly, he liked the way I looked. And since he was convinced he should have everything he wanted, he expected to win me, like I was something to be possessed, another pretty thing he wanted for himself so he could show it off to everyone else. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t interested.”
“Because your mother’s got good taste,” Dad stated proudly, running a hand down his puffed-out chest. “Always has.”
Mom gave an affectionate roll of her eyes. “Let’s just say, he didn’t take too kindly to being rebuffed.” From what I knew of the man, I wasn’t at all surprised by that. “He became obsessed after that. Pursued me relentlessly. When that didn’t work he tried making things difficult in the hopes I’d cave. Leaving for college was a relief.” She flipped her hand over beneath my father’s and laced her fingers through his in the very same way Beau always laced his through mine. “Then I met your father and forgot all about Hank. I left him in the past where he belonged.”
She let out a sigh, so my father picked the story up. “She was the only one who let it go, though. Guess he’d been stewing in that rejection all those years your mom was gone, and the moment she came back, all that old resentment came flooding back.”
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table as I tried to wrap my head around everything I’d just heard. “But... I don’t understand. You did work for him.”