Hayes jerked his head toward his father, the images of Maisie in the throes of pleasure gone as fast as they’d come. “Yeah, I’m good. Last night was an annoyance, nothing more.” No matter how much his father pushed him to return to the force, at the heart of it, his father did so because he thought it was right. His father had been a great dad growing up; supportive, attentive, there for him, even more so after his mother had moved away after their divorce. Hayes still had a great relationship with her. She called often. He visited her when he could.
Dad gave a sideways glance, a knowing smile. “I’m not talking about the fight.”
Damn. Obviously, Hayes couldn’t control the expression on his face. He needed to fix that before he saw Maisie again.
“That’s still up for debate,” he admitted.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not particularly.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He’d always told his father the truth. “It’s…”
“Complicated?” Dad offered.
Hayes snorted. He’d told Maisie last night it was anything but complicated between them. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Because she was Laurel’s best friend?”
Warmth touched Dad’s tone, and Hayes looked his way, spotting that same warmth in his face. He’d loved Laurel. Everyone loved her. “Part of the reason.”
“What’s the other part?”
Hayes glanced out the window, staring out at the whiskey barley fields that rushed by. “You know why.”
Of course, Dad called him out. “Because she doesn’t know the truth about what happened?” A pause. When Hayes didn’t reply, Dad spat, “You’re an idiot.”
Hayes scowled at his father. “Am I?”
“Yes, son, you fucking are.” Dad’s jaw tightened, eyes on the road, fingers white around the steering wheel. “You were dealt a brutal blow. Now you’ve got this sweet, bright woman who has been there picking you up, when we all know, life would have gone dark for you otherwise. And now, instead of making yourself and her happy, you’re too afraid to tell her what happened so you can finally move on. When did you become such a coward?”
Hayes drew in a deep breath to stop from lashing out. His father didn’t deserve it, especially when every single word was the truth. “What good will telling her the truth do? Bring up all her pain again. Too much time has gone by.”
“You’re telling me this isn’t about you being afraid because you’re terrified she’ll hate you for it?”
He cringed at the truth his father hit him with.
Dad slammed on the brakes, skidding the SUV to a halt on the side of the road. He threw the truck in park and then set his firm gaze on Hayes. “You’ve hated yourself more than anyone could for something that was never your fault. You’re not the only one who lost Laurel. I don’t blame you, and Maisie wouldn?
?t either. This is your pain. Your shit to get figured out.” His father pointed at him. “You might want to start figuring that shit out so you don’t go around punching drunk idiots because you’re keeping all this bad shit inside you.”
Hayes arched an eyebrow. “Done?”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got one shot at life, buddy. Yeah, I see you’re wasting it, wallowing in your pain and punishing yourself, but unless you’re all in with Maisie”—he leaned in and pointed at Hayes again—“keep your hands off of her.”
Hayes knew that, as much as his father thought the world of Laurel, he thought equally as highly of Maisie, maybe even more so, because of what Maisie had done for Hayes when he was at his lowest. And the Taylor men protected the women they cared about. “Yeah, got it.”
The Colorado Springs beer festival held a different vibe than Fort Collins. The event was held outside in a large park, with each booth adding a little sparkle to gain attention across the dark night. Maisie had brought Edison string lights, and with the plants she’d picked up on the way, the Three Chicks Brewery booth looked romantic, chic and dreamy even, compared to the very masculine tents around her. She supposed that was her artist’s touch, to find beauty where there wasn’t any and showcase it.
“You’re making everyone else look like they don’t know what they’re doing.”
That low baritone of Hayes’s voice brushed over Maisie, causing her breath to hitch. She spun around and all but tackled Hayes, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, my God, you’re okay.”
His warm chuckle hit her as he bent his head, bring his mouth against her neck. “I’m all right,” he told her, holding her close.
Any worry that things might have been awkward when they saw each other instantly fled. They were good, she felt that in the strength of his arms locked around her. She held on, longer than she normally would. “What happened?” she asked, leaning away.
He took her hand before she could move away, his fingers twining with hers. “Nothing much,” he explained. “Those cops were just throwing their weight around because that guy I punched was the lieutenant’s kid.”
She studied his face, not finding any strain there, then released the tension in her own chest with a deep sigh. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I felt terrible leaving this morning, but your dad promised me he’d get you out.” She averted her gaze to the booth across from her, shifting on her feet, her stomach in knots. “Clara would have killed me if I didn’t make set up on time.”