Page 71 of A Montana Rodeo Star

The hairs rose on the back of Brent’s neck. His mother looked like she was about ready to faint. His father clenched his hands into fists at his sides. But Tripp was the only one capable of speaking. “Come clean about what, mom?”

“Tripp—” his mother started.

“Don’t bother trying to get out of this. I know you’ve been keeping something from me.” That earned Brent another sharp look.

Then his mother’s dark expression pinned Hallie. “I think you need to go.” There were only a few moments before Brent heard the retreating footsteps disappear altogether. The whole time, he kept his eyes trained on his mother. Watching. Waiting.

“We should take this inside,” his father murmured. He lifted his hand and rubbed his wife’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Heather. It’s time.” The words were spoken so quietly, Brent wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard them.

Brent wanted to tell them that he wasn’t going to take this conversation anywhere, that they were going to discuss whatever it was right here, but the fight had left him. He was finally going to get his answers.

Once inside, he and Tripp sat across from his parents. He kept his eyes trained on his parents’ hands. They were clutching each other tighter than he’d ever remembered. The longer he watched them, the worse the knots in his stomach became.

“Mom,” Tripp prompted. “What’s going on?”

When their mother didn’t immediately start speaking, their father took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m not your biological father.”

It was like he’d been slapped in the face. His ears started ringing as his parents relayed the story. His mother had eloped with his biological father and gone on the road with him as he competed in rodeos across the country. She’d left much to her parents’ disappointment, but she was in love.

“I was so happy,” his mother rasped, her voice teary. “We both were. Your father was one of the best this world has ever seen. Competing was in his blood.” She cut a look at his father. “He was winning every competition, until he didn’t.” A sob burst from his mother’s lips. She hunched over and put her face in her hands.

Tripp and Brent glanced toward the man they’d believed was their father. There was a distinct sense of loss that Brent could feel growing in his chest. It was like his heart had turned into a black hole. Everything he’d known to be true was being sucked into it and disappearing without a trace.

“They said he died instantly. That there was less than a one percent chance this sort of injury would end up in death. It was a fluke.” His father’s voice cracked. “Your father was my best friend.”

Chills scraped through Brent’s body. So this was the reason his parents were so against the rodeo. They’d both lost someone close to them.

But then they’d covered it up.

He couldn’t decide if he was hurt, angry, or simply numb. It made sense—the reasons they had tried to keep him away from the events. Was it rational? No. But love never was.

Brent felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t want to sit in front of his parents and hear them make excuses. He and Tripp had his father’s last name. His mother hadn’t even given him a piece of his father.

His parents had stolen his past. They’d taken part of his very identity.

“Name,” Brent croaked.

The two people in front of him—strangers that they were—stared at him with confusion.

“What’s his name? Who was my father?” Brent half-expected his brother to talk him down because he could feel his whole body vibrating with this betrayal. He didn’t need to ask why his mother would cover this up. He didn’t want to hear her excuses. All he wanted was to know the name of the man who had sired him.

“Brent…” his mother whispered, looking to her husband. “Judd raised⁠—”

“You can’t even give me that, can you?” Brent shot to his feet and his voice rose. “It’s the only thing I want right now, and you can’t even give me that.”

“Brent,” Tripp whispered, “lower your voice. She’s still our mother.”

Gritting his jaw, Brent shook his head. He didn’t voice it, but right now the two people in front of him didn’t feel like family anymore.

“Louis,” his father said quietly. “Louis Brent.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A loud pounding sound interrupted Faith’s sleep. She was groggy enough that she thought she’d been dreaming about it. As she opened her eyes, blinked a few times, the sound got louder. Not only was it the loud banging sound, but the chaos of her brother’s deep voices filtering through the walls of her ranch style home.

Faith shot up in her bed. There was still a faint light in the sky, so she had to have only been in bed for a half hour. She’d gone to sleep early due to a headache.

The noise continued and she strained her ears. There was too much going on for her to know what exactly what was happening. The fact that her brothers were still shouting at whoever had come to their door put her on edge. She tossed aside her covers and headed for the door.