Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan ended his call with Jen and cursed loudly. No sign of a link on the tattoos, still no missing person report filed, no red flags, nothing. Adam had literally been somewhere else for the last twelve years, and it seemed no one missed him at all.

"Brought you up better than that."

Ethan turned to face his dad. Marcus was leaning against the fence and watching him carefully. How long had he been there? Ethan had had to ask Jen some pretty awful questions about Justin: details of searches on burn victims, on mortuary reports. Had his dad heard any of that? Marcus looked older today, as if the weight of the world was pushing him down.

"Did you…?" He gestured with the phone.

"Did I hear all of that?" Marcus nodded. "I didn't mean to, but when I heard Justin's name, I couldn't help myself."

"I apologize."

"For what?" Marcus looked puzzled. "For doing your job? I know that young Adam turning up means new lines of questioning. You think they were in a car accident?"

Ethan hesitated to tell his dad the full story. It was easy to keep to himself the dreams Adam had described, of Justin being burned. "Like you said, it's just a line of questioning, that's all. I still have hope that we will find Justin the same way we found Adam."

Marcus shrugged, his familiar way of telling Ethan he didn't agree. They'd gone past actually talking about Justin and the possibility of finding him to ignoring the situation between them. As a result they didn't speak much at all, the Justin thing too big between them.

"He's likely dead, son. You need to accept that as a possibility."

Temper coiled inside Ethan. He was getting sick of his dad dismissing his hopes and telling him he shouldn't have faith. Marcus turned to leave, stumbling a little and righting himself by clinging onto the fence. Ordinarily, Ethan would have asked what was wrong, but he was working up a head of temper.

"I found Adam. How could you have given up on Justin?"

Marcus stopped, leaning against the fence, and his whole posture slumped.

Ethan carried on. "How can you tell me to stop looking?"

Marcus turned to face him, but there was no anger on his face. He looked tired, ill, and his expression screamed resentment. "You didn't give up on your brother, but you sure as hell gave up on me," he snapped.

Some of the strength Ethan remembered was back in his dad's voice. What the hell did he mean by that? "What?"

"You had a role here. You're the son of a rancher, this is your home, and you left."

"I left to be a cop," Ethan defended. Not this sorry line of fucked-up thinking again.

"You left me alone."

By now Marcus was shouting, and Ethan's temper left him immediately. In its place was resentment and grief. He'd lost Justin, but he'd sure as hell lost his dad the same damn day.

"I left to be a cop," he repeated, this time slower and more focused, not letting one emotion into the words to color the effect of them.

"And what do I have left of my family here. In this place? You and Justin should have inherited this from me, when I'm gone."

Ethan shook his head. "This is a new century, Dad, and things don't get passed from father to son. You knew I always wanted to be a cop."

"Justin didn't. Justin would have stayed with me. He knew about family."

And there it was, in black and white. Justin was the good son. Hell, he and Marcus had banged heads and argued like dogs, but Justin was the rancher's son, the one with Crooked Tree in his blood.

"So what do you want?" Ethan began. "You want me to give up what I want to do? What I love, what I'm fucking good at, just to muck out horses and keep you company?"

He was being irrational. He didn't want to work here, but he sure as hell loved Crooked Tree as a place. And he loved his dad. Under the blustering and the arguments, he was sure Marcus loved him back, if only he could push through the grief of losing Justin.

"I'm dying!" Marcus shouted. "And when I go, there'll be no Allens to work my share. You'll sell to Nate, or Adam, and that will be it. No one left. You get me now?"

And just like that, all the bluster and anger left Marcus and he became something much smaller. Someone older.

And all Ethan could think was one thing. Dad's dying?

"What?" he heard himself ask. "What do you mean?"

Marcus stared at him, then huffed and turned to leave. "We'll talk later," he muttered and began to walk back to the house.

Ethan sprinted to overtake him and stopped dead right in front of him, placing a hand on his dad's chest. "Don't you do that, Dad. Tell me."

"Ethan…." Marcus's voice was quiet, his eyes red, and he looked pale.

"Tell me, Dad." Shock, grief, everything tumbled in on Ethan, and he saw his dad for the first time as someone mortal. Tears pressed at his eyes and his chest tightened with emotion as he waited for Marcus to say something.

Anything.

"Cancer, son." Marcus said. "Hospital wants to burn it all away, but I want to die here, not in the hospital."

"What? What hospital? I need to see?—"

A hand touched his arm, and he glanced sideways to see Sophie, with tears in her eyes.

"I told him to tell you straight out," she said. Then she took Marcus's arm. "Let's go inside. We all need to talk."

Ethan's head was reeling: cancer, therapy, his dad's refusal to leave the ranch in case he didn't come back.

Wrong. All wrong.

When Sophie sat back and waited for Ethan to talk, he didn't know what to say.

"You need to go to the hospital," was the first thing Ethan blurted out.

"See!" Marcus shouted. "I told you that was what he would say."

"Why wouldn't I?" Ethan shouted back, right up in his dad's face. "You stupid old fool, the hospital could save you."

"They don't know that."

"Sophie just said there was an 87 percent chance of survival."

"Yes, and knowing my shit luck, I'd be in the thirteen left." Marcus stepped closer. "You don't get to waltz back in here and tell me what to do."

"What the fuck?" Ethan snapped. "I'm your son, for God's sake."

"Since when!" Marcus shouted.

Silence. Absolute silence. Ethan stumbled back and away, and Marcus slumped into the nearest armchair. Ethan sat facing him.

Had he left his dad? Had becoming a cop and leaving Crooked Tree actually meant he'd left his family? Wasn't it right for a son to forge his own path in the world? Even if only half of Marcus's accusations were right, then what kind of son was he? He opened his mouth to voice his concerns, to maybe consider forming an apology for things he didn't understand, but his dad beat him to it.

"Fuck," he cursed, "Ethan, I'm sorry. You're my son, and I love you. I just… you don't understand what it's like."

Ethan closed his eyes briefly. "You mean losing someone? I know what it's like. I lost Justin, and I lost you at the same time."

Marcus hunched over and stared down at the floor, his posture screaming grief and despair. Sophie settled by his chair and placed a hand on his back. She looked imploringly at Ethan, asking him to say something, with just her eyes alone.

What do I say? That I always loved him? That I wanted Justin home and that I lost my way? What?

"I'll stay at Crooked Tree," he blurted out, not even sure where the thought process to get to those words had come from. "I'll come home, work here, if you promise to go to the hospital and get treatment."

Marcus straightened. "What?"

"You heard me. You've got a chance to get yourself treated. I'll stay here, work here, be the Allens' heir until you come home fit and well."

Hope flickered in Marcus's eyes, but there was no calculation there. His dad hadn't manipulated him to this point; he'd apparently never expected it.

"You promise?" Marcus asked.

"Ethan, I'm not sure about this," Sophie said at the same time.

Marcus looked up at his partner, his girlfriend, his wife in everything but name, and glared at her. "Don't you go talking my son out of doing this."

She looked torn, glancing at Ethan with a set expression on her face. "This doesn't fix a damn thing," she muttered, then left the room.

Ethan knew what she meant. The fact he'd sat here and bargained away his career for his dad's life was something that happened in the movies, not on ranches in the middle of Montana.

"Book the hospital, old man," he said. Then he stood, intending to leave immediately, but stopping when Marcus stood.

His dad looked straighter, stronger, and he held out his hand. "I get this is the worst thing you've ever had to do. But I thank you for it."

Ethan took the hand, and they shook on the bargain. He wanted to rail at his dad, to shout and rant about blackmail and not understanding.

He couldn't.

Because he didn't have a strong enough belief in his convictions that he had been justified in leaving Crooked Tree to find Justin.

Doubt was drowning him and he needed air. "I'm coming to the next appointment. Let me know when it is."

"Your bedroom is still here," Marcus said with hope.

"I'm staying at Adam's. He needs me as well."

Ethan hadn't been trying to be curt , but he succeeded. Marcus looked shocked, then accepting.

"Good to have you home, son."

Ethan wished he could say it was good to be back. He walked out of the house and saw Adam leaning against the same fence his dad had been leaning on, and abruptly everything seemed right, things were as they should be. Without asking, he crossed to Adam and gathered him into a hug.

"I heard some of that," Adam said. "I didn't mean to. Are you okay?"

Ethan was far from okay, but it didn't matter. Adam was here, Adam was in his arms, and that balanced out his world just about right. "I'm getting there."

"Is your dad going to be all right?"

Ethan nodded and shifted his hold a little, aware he was squashing Adam a bit too much against the wood. "I hope he will be."

"You want to go for a walk?" Adam asked quietly. "There is something I found with Gabe I want to show you"

Ethan held Adam a little while longer and then stepped away and extended his hand. "Show me."