I hear something catch in his throat.
“I know this isn’t how you expected to find out about us,” I say. “And I know you probably have a hundred reasons to hate me before we’ve even met. I’m not what you pictured for her. I know that.”
“You don’t know what I?—”
I cut him off. I know the truth about what he thinks just by talking to me on the phone.
I ain’t no city boy. But I am rich.
“But I love your daughter. And she loves me. And I’m asking you to give me a shot before you make your judgment.” I pause. “Come to my ranch. See how your girl is living. Meet your grandson.”
“Grandson?” His voice pitches up.
I chuckle.
“My boy. Wyatt. He’s six. And he thinks the sun rises and sets with Lola.”
I hear a sound on the other end that might be a laugh or might be a sob. “She always was good with kids,” he says quietly. “Better than we ever were with her.”
That stops me. Because it’s the most honest thing I’ve heard from a man I’ve known for ninety seconds. “Mr. Jackson. Your daughter didn’t run away from you. She ran toward something. And I’d like to show you what that is. Show you how much we adore her.”
The line is quiet for a long time. Long enough that I can hear noise in the background. His sixtieth birthday. And instead of celebrating, he’s standing in a hallway, finding out his daughter is married and in a hospital.
“I’m coming to Arizona,” he says.
“You’re welcome anytime.”
“First thing tomorrow.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’ll send you the address. Would you like to use my jet?” I ask.
“I’ll use mine. But I appreciate the offer,” he tells me.
“When she wakes up, tell her—” He stops and clears his throat. “Tell her I’m proud of her. Even though she never believes me when I say it.”
My eyes sting. I have this feelin’ everything is going to work out just fine. “I’ll tell her.”
“And Hunter?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Thank you for being there. For looking after my girl.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not a job, Mr. Jackson. It’s a privilege.”
He hangs up.
I stand in the hospital corridor holding my wife’s cracked phone, and I don’t know what to do with the feeling expanding inside my chest.
Maybe Richard Jackson isn’t what I expected either.
A nurse appears at the end of the corridor. “Mr. Sterling? Your wife is asking for you.”
I’m moving before she finishes the sentence.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
LOLA