“What brought you here?”
Well, if this didn’t kill the spark between them, Miranda didn’t know what would. “My mother met a professional bull rider and followed him here on a leg of his circuit. A few months later, she followed him to Austin, this time without me.”
A beat passed before he realized that was the end of her story. “Wait, she just left you?”
“Without looking back.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Wow.” He went quiet, clearly processing that information. She forced herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t quite read it now. There was no disapproval or pity there, but he’d definitely sobered. “Did you move in with your dad?”
“I don’t know my father. Eventually, I ended up with Marty. God, he was so pissed at my mother. He’d left her about a year before, but continued to write to me in Memphis. We didn’t have the money for things like internet or cell phones, so good old snail mail was the only way to communicate.”
“He’s the father you never had, then.”
She nodded. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Nowadays, whenever you hear about an older man taking a young girl under his wing, there are always nasty assumptions. This wasn’t like that. He is the most honorable, loyal, caring man I’ve ever known. Our relationship has always been brutally honest, unconditional, and completely platonic. Not even a hint of inappropriateness.”
“He sounds amazing.”
“He’s a dying breed, for sure. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”
“You said you had half siblings. Did you all stay with Marty?”
“No, Gypsy and Dylan had real fathers. Fathers who took them away as soon as my mother’s bad habits resurfaced.”
“What kind of bad habits?”
“Drug and alcohol abuse.”
“God. That’s…heavy.” He went silent a moment. “Is that why you don’t drink?”
She nodded. “My lousy genes don’t need any encouragement.”
“I assume Gypsy is your sister. Hard to tell with an unusual name like that. But Dylan sounds like your brother.”
“Your assumption is correct.”
“And how long is Gypsy staying?”
If Miranda was lucky, Gypsy would be gone when she got home from work tomorrow. “Not long. She was having some trouble where she was living. Guess she’s looking for a fresh start or something.”
“And you don’t want her to make that here?”
Miranda didn’t immediately answer. His question made her reconsider what she had against Gypsy. Resentment? Yes. Jealousy? Yes. But Miranda only had to remember the years before her mother’s death for the real reason to surface.
“I raised them both until their fathers took them away, but when our mother got sick and I needed her, she wasn’t there. Now she wants me to support her when her life goes off track. She’s selfish. And she’s a liar. She’s given me, Marty, and Elaina, Marty’s mother, three different reasons for coming into town. I don’t need any of that in my life.”
She decided to turn off t
his path before it reached a cliff edge. “Enough about my mess. How’s your dad?”
He didn’t immediately answer, then exhaled with “Actually, a little better.”
Miranda was grateful he shifted topics easily. He propped his free arm behind his head and explained dementia syndrome.
“Earlier tonight, I put headphones on him and set him up in front of Pandora and had him create a thumbprint radio station.”