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CHAPTER 16
Cash
Music filled the small cabin of the truck as Cheyenne stared out of the window. Like clockwork, her eyes cut to the dashboard as she checked the estimated time of arrival, which was ten minutes from now.
For the last hour, she’d been checking it every two minutes without fail.
She’d been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive up to Nashville, Indiana so I had no clue what was going on in her pretty little head. It was obvious from her body language that she was nervous. Her foot had been tapping a steady beat causing her knee to bounce up and down. My instinct was to reach out and place my hand on her knee, but I kept my hands on the wheel.
Last night, after hearing that James Comfort wasn’t Cheyenne’s father, a possibility entered my mind that I just couldn’t stop thinking about. I’d been trying to work out whether or not my father and Cheyenne’s mother could’ve had an affair. It was difficult to think back to that time because I was only two years old when she was born so I had no memory of what my parents’ marriage was like at that time.
Still, I remembered as early as four years old coming into the kitchen to find my mother crying. I remembered hearing bits and pieces of fights between my parents where my mom would accuse my dad of being with someone else. She’d be upset because he’d stayed out so late, or was on the road for work so much.
They argued a lot when I was young. Then when I was around ten, the fighting stopped. I hadn’t really thought about it, until last night. At the time, I’d just been happy that I didn’t hear my mom crying behind closed doors several times a week. My father’s behavior didn’t change. He still left town for weeks at a time for his job. And even when he was in town, he went out most nights.
But for some reason, my mom hadn’t seemed upset about it anymore. I wondered now if she’d just made peace with his extra-marital activities.
I’d been trying to find similarities in Cheyenne and my father’s bone structure, mannerisms, anything thing that would be a sign. But I hadn’t found any. From what I remembered of her, and from what everyone that knew her said, Cheyenne was the spitting image of Sabrina Comfort, her mother.
I didn’t see any of my father, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t his love child.
“Are you okay?” Cheyenne asked softly, and I heard the nerves in her voice. “You look worried.”
Damn.I should be the one asking Cheyenne that, not the other way around. It was just another example of how intuitive and considerate she was. And that I was more like my father than I wanted to be. He never seemed to notice when my mom was upset. She could be sobbing in the bathroom with the door closed and he’d be out in the garage working on whatever project he had to keep him out there, having a beer, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd without a care in the world.
I don’t know why my mom put up with him or stayed with him all of those years.
“Just thinking about seeing my mom,” I replied honestly, slicing my eyes to her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I keep going back and forth wondering if I should’ve called first. But I think this is better. I need to do this face to face. I need to see him.”
“At the next corner make a right turn. The destination will be on your left.” The female navigation voice filled the space.
Cheyenne slid her hands along her jean-covered thighs. Before reaching up and flipping down the sun visor.
“Do I look okay?” she asked as she checked her reflection.
“You look perfect,” I responded without taking my eyes off the road.
She let out a half chuckle. “That would mean a lot more if you had actually looked at me.”
“I didn’t have to. You always look perfect.” I hadn’t meant to make that admission, but it was the truth.
For all these months I’d fought what I felt for Cheyenne, I’d done my best to treat her like a little sister, the way that Billy would want me to treat her. So why in the hell was I saying things like that when she could actually be my little sister?
I pulled up in front of a gorgeous craftsman-style home. It had a wraparound porch that included a swing and a large oak tree in the front with a tire swing. There were several bikes lying on their sides in the driveway beside an SUV and a minivan.
“He has a family.” Cheyenne’s voice was strained.
“Do you want me to go up to the door? You can stay here.” It was the same offer I’d made when we’d been in Nashville Tennessee but this time it was for a completely different reason.
The first time it had been because I was fairly certain she would be disappointed that she hadn’t found what she was looking for. This time it was because I was fairly certain that she would. I knew this was the correct address, Wayne Lemont definitely lived here.
“No. It’s okay. I’ll go.” She took a deep breath.
I got out of the truck and before I made it around to her side, she already had the door open. When she stepped out I shut it behind her.
She shook out her hands before walking up to the door.
