Page 62 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads
Her smile widened faintly.“That’s right.You’ve got a Hurst to wrangle.”
A laugh escaped me, soft and tired.“I’m not sure it’ll work out with him.”
“Why not?He’s hot as hell.He seems like the kind who’d be real athletic between the sheets.”She got a superior smile when my face flushed.“Knew it.That man’s got it real bad for you.”
I rolled my eyes automatically, even as warmth stirred painfully in my chest.“How would you know?”
“He stopped by while you were at work the other day.”She settled deeper into the pillow.“Claimed he was checking out the air conditioner.”Her look turned smug.“He actually wanted to checkyouout.”
Something in my chest tightened unexpectedly.
“Don’t worry,” she continued.“I only embarrassed you a little.”
I narrowed my eyes.“What did you do?”
“I told him he better get his shit together and make a move before you find someone else.”
I groaned, covering my face with one hand.
Beside me, Misty laughed softly for the first time all day, and hearing it felt precious.
“Go.”She waved me away.“You’re interrupting my podcast.”
I wandered out of the treatment room to grab coffee, desperate for five minutes away from the intensity of the waiting.
As I rounded the corner from oncology toward the cafeteria, I stopped.
Dad paced straight toward me.His muddy work boots pounded the floor.That cold, calculating smile—the one that never reached his eyes, the one that usually came right before pain—slid across his face.Behind him a rough-looking man in a McClary farm hat dragged far enough behind that I couldn’t make out more than broad shoulders.New hired muscle, apparently.
Dad’s smile sharpened.“Exactly who I needed to see.”
My pulse kicked hard, but years of practice locked my face into the same blank mask I’d learned to wear as a child, the one that revealed nothing, gave him nothing to use.
“I’m not interested in talking to you today.”I stepped left to go around him.
“I don’t care.”His hand clamped around my arm like a vise.
Before I could wrench free, he dragged me into an empty hospital room.Every muscle in my body went tight.I ripped my arm backward, but he yanked me close enough for me to smell stale tobacco and cruelty.
“I ended their health insurance.”
I finally tore loose and put distance between us—three fast steps, enough space to dodge a swing if it came.My heart hammered, but not from fear of his blackmail.That trick had lost its teeth years ago.Violence?That was always worth fearing.Manipulation?Less and less.
I folded my arms tight across my chest.“The only people you hurt with that are Misty and Mama.Not me.”I kept my tone cold enough to frost glass.“I don’t need your money.I don’t want the farm.I don’t need your insurance.I love Misty and Mama.I care what happens to them.But I can’t control whether you choose to punish them.”
His jaw ticked.“Were you the one that called the DEA on me?”
My mind rushed again through the few reasons anyone would call the DEA.Selling drugs, buying drugs, using drugs…maybe growing drugs?I shook my head.“What are you doing that the DEA would be interested in?”
“Then it was the fucking Hursts.You’re a McClary, which means you’re going to help me bury every last one of them.”
He took a step forward.My body moved before my mind did—one step back, shoulders tightening, and lungs bracing for impact.
“I already said no.”My voice sharpened.“Whatever sick vendetta you’ve got against them, that’s yours and not mine.”
His expression changed.It went wild around the edges, but underneath it was something worse.Calculation.This was the look he got right before he found the cruelest possible knife and twisted.
“I know you and Timothy Hurst have been screwing again,” he said softly.“You did long ago and you’re back at it.If you don’t find out if he’s the one who called the DEA and ruined my extra income source, I’ll hurt his daughter.”
