“When do I get to ask the questions?”
“After you provide me with a satisfying answer.”
Her gaze burns into mine and I’m sure she’s picturing bodily harm. “Armed robbery and intimidation were my specialties. I got locked up for almost two years after a job went sideways. Haven’t stolen shit since. Happy?”
“Nah, but I appreciate your honesty.”
“My turn.” She straightens, pinning me with too much intensity. “What do you do for fun?”
“Work.”
“How do you unwind from that?”
“Spend time with my daughter. I don’t need more.”
She makes a thoughtful noise. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”
Nothing worthwhile. Not that I’ll tell her that.
For whatever reason, I was compelled to follow Frankie’s trail after getting that notification. Going back to an empty house didn’t appeal to me. My office at the auction barn would’ve been worse. This option isn’t as daunting. Not sure what that says about me.
“I’d probably be out feeding the horses right about now.” Not a complete lie.
But Frankie’s squint doesn’t appear satisfied. “Why don’t you date?”
“Not interested in adding more complications to my schedule.” That’s also mostly true.
“Do you have any friends?”
I grunt, ready to put her on blast for being a brat. Talk about a bold assumption. But the question gives me pause. The truth is that most of them quit calling after Ronnie was born. A few stuck around to support me through the struggle of adapting to parenthood while simultaneously grieving my wife, but those connections are long gone now.
A weary sigh breezes from my lips. It’s pathetic to admit that I don’t have a social life to speak of beyond my daughter’s activities. I’m only thirty-four, but most days I feel ancient. Disconnected. Irrelevant. Maybe the lack of adult interactions is finally getting to me.
Should I give her the power those truths will provide?
Frankie raises her brows, twisting the knife of her latest low blow.
“None that I like,” I find myself admitting.
“What about Chance?”
“My brother?”
“Do you know another?”
I scoff. “We don’t really get along.”
“Why’s that?” Her head tilts as if she really wants to know.
Which is why my guard lowers further. “He doesn’t like me. I’m more of a parent than a sibling.”
“Have you tried bridging the gap?”
“There’s no point. I’m his boss too, which only makes things worse. Besides that, we’re too different.” And those clashes far exceed the nine years separating us.
Frankie nods slowly. “Walker is my polar opposite. Most of the time, I can’t believe we’re related.”
My eyes narrow as I watch her from under the shadow of my hat. “Have you gone to visit him in prison?”