CHAPTER 7 JOLENE

Lincoln: If you won't talk to me about us, can we at least discuss the podcast? Are we still recording this week?

I imagine recording this week would be good for ratings. In fact, I imagine our ratings would skyrocket this week if we got on the pod after that article Rivera published. People will want to know our reactions, which is a concept I'm very familiar with given my career.

The podcast usually goes live on Wednesdays, and that's today. I pieced together some parts of interviews and an extra restaurant review we did a few weeks ago so I can publish it later today, and just listening to his voice as he talked about the chicken tacos he ate made my chest ache.

I don't want to talk to him, but if my goal is still to expand and monetize the podcast, I'm not sure whether I have a choice in that matter.

Ellie has tried calling me, too, which only makes me think he's got her in on it. I ignored her call since it came through while I was editing at Sam's kitchen table, and then I stared blankly at my screen while I tried to figure out where the hell we're going to live.

Sam is due to be home in another hour, and that's when my phone rings again.

But this time, it's my mother.

I don't ignore this call.

"Hey, Mom," I answer.

"Oh, thank God you answered. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I say. Someone found out Lincoln was in an accident, and the story has been all over the news. I'm surprised it took her this long to reach out.

"What's going on?" she asks. "We saw the article about the Nash family."

I sigh. I don't really want to rehash the story again, but this is my mom. She deserves to know everything.

I clear my throat. "Can I come over to talk with you and Dad?"

"Of course. Are you okay to drive?"

"I'm fine." My head feels much clearer today, and I've even been able to get some work done. My prescription strength ibuprofen has been helping with the wrist, but it hasn't done much to help with the constant heaviness in my chest, and in truth it's hard to type when I'm wearing this damn splint.

"Okay. We're at the Gridiron," she says.

I sigh. I don't really want to go anywhere public, but I'm sure we can talk in the back room and I can sneak out before anyone sees me. "I'll be over in a few minutes."

I finish uploading the episode and schedule it for five o'clock, our usual publication time, and then I head over to the Gridiron in the courtesy car I got from the dealer who's fixing my car.

I find them sitting at the bar, and I nod toward the back room. They follow me in, and my mom gives me a hug. My dad looks highly uncomfortable as he leans in for the next hug, and then they both sit. I remain standing.

"I know you've seen the article and when I found out that Lincoln kept that secret for two decades, I ended things with him. I was upset, and he got into the car with me to try to stop me, and I shouldn't have been driving. I lost control and hit a tree. We're both fine, but I broke up with him and that's the point of the story."

"You broke up with him then tried to kill him?" my dad asks, a little, tiny smile curling his lips as he teases me.

"May I remind you that I learned how to drive from you?" I point out dryly, and he chuckles.

"Fair point. So how did you find out?" he presses.

I finally slide into one of the open chairs at the table, and I sigh. "I went to the station to pack up the podcast equipment and Rivera was there. He's the one who did the research to break the story, and he told me he was going to print it in the morning."

"And you confronted Lincoln about it?" my mom asks.

I nod. "I guess after his father did what he did, he came home and told Lincoln what he did and why. He thought he was saving his son's future since he was about to turn eighteen and he was with a minor."

My dad's jaw slackens a little. "I always assumed it had to do with the bar."

My brows pinch together. "The bar?"

"Rivalry." He nods as he says the word. "I got the impression that he wanted my money to help start it up, and then he wanted me out. By all reports, there was absolutely no reason for him to do what he did that day to me. He ended my career, but I've learned to deal with that. I have this place now. We've made Vegas our home for nearly twenty years. I guess over time I've accepted that life turned out the way it did for a reason, but that doesn't mean I've accepted that what Nash did to me was okay, and furthermore, his son hurt you when he broke up with you, and I will never, ever trust anyone from that family again."

I wonder if now's a good time to mention I'm actually growing a baby with Nash blood in its veins.

Probably not.

"What about Missy?" my mom asks quietly.

My dad glances at my mom. "What about her?"

She clears her throat. "She was my best friend, Joe. And our friendship was caught in the crossfire of what happened between the two of you."

He reaches over and covers my mom's hand with his. "And that is what loyalty is. You stuck by me, and when I lost everything, you did, too."

"But think of it from their perspective—Lincoln's, in particular," my mom says. "He did what he did to protect his father. Isn't that loyalty, too?"

"Not to me," my dad says gruffly, but she has a point. Just because he doesn't like who Lincoln was loyal to doesn't mean he didn't express the exact same sentiment when he chose to stick with his family as a teenager who really didn't have a lot of options.

"I get that," I pipe in. "But regardless of whether what Eddie did was about me or about Rivalry, Lincoln kept that secret even after two decades. He had plenty of moments when he could've told me, and he chose not to."

"Family loyalty," my mom says. "You can hardly hold that against him. Would you have told him if the situation was reversed?"

Anger pulses low in my belly. "Why are you defending him?"

She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. "Because you chose him over us when I made you choose, and I never should have done that, Jolene. I'm so sorry."

My dad's brows push together. "You're sorry?"

She nods. "We put them at the center of this fight, and if she loves him, if he truly makes her happy…that's what I want for her. It's a twenty-year-old feud between two old men, and I think it's time to get past it."

"Old?" he booms. "I will never get past what he did to me, Joanna. Don't you remember how she was when that boy broke her heart?" He jerks his thumb toward me. "Do you want that for her again?"

"Too late," I admit.

My dad sighs. "I'm sorry, but nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever make me trust that boy or anyone with the last name Nash."

What if it was Bailey-Nash? What if it was the last name Nash with half-Bailey DNA?

I can't make myself ask those questions even though they're on the tip of my tongue.

Will he treat this baby differently knowing it's Lincoln's?

Or will this baby be the bridge we never knew we needed to mend this whole thing between our families?

I like the sound of that…but I'm not even sure whether she's enough to mend what's broken between Lincoln and me, let alone our entire family history.

Still, I know I need to tell him—at least before I tell my parents.

I just have no idea how to do that when I can't even bring myself to pick up the phone to call him.