Page 114 of Saddles

I bet he hates the fact his jaw is covered in whiskers. He’s always been a clean shaven guy.

“Dad?” I tentatively move closer, letting Ford’s hand slip from mine as I near the side of the gurney.

Dad’s eyes flutter before they open, a moment of panic washes his features before they lock on me.

He squints and focuses, then cocks his head. “April?” He reaches out and covers my fingers with his palm. “Where have you been? I had Norma try to call you.”

It’s my turn to be confused. “What are you talking about? I’ve talked to her three times and she keeps telling me to stop and leave you alone.”

He lets out a long sigh. “That’s ridiculous, she wouldn’t do that. Regardless, I’m glad you finally visited.”

My teeth clench as the nausea I had been feeling shifts to frustration.

Maybe anger.

Dad glances past me, then his brows raise. “Who’s your friend?”

I turn to see Ford tilt his dark cowboy hat back and step forward.

“Ford Halverson.” He holds out his hand that Dad shakes hesitantly.

“Nice to meet you. Is your daughter friends with April?” Dad’s lips purse.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it irritates me.

Ford’s gray gaze flicks to me. “I don’t have any kids…yet.” A sly smirk raises his cheek before he backs away.

Heat rushes through me in a wave.

I bet he’s just saying that to get a rise out of my dad.

My father’s eyes narrow, and the heart monitor next to him begins to beep faster.

Ah, that’s handy.

Before Ford can move all the way to the door, I snag his wrist and thread my fingers in his.

The gesture isn’t missed.

“So that’s where you’ve been while I’ve been here on my deathbed? Galavanting with some hick who’s my age? What the hell is wrong with you, April? Don’t you have any respect forwhat I’ve done for you?” Dad’s voice raises into the authoritarian tone I know so well.

Ford’s grip tightens as he takes a deep breath.

My own pulse rages in my ears with the well of emotion.

Apparently the bitterness and delusion hasn’t changed after Dad’s heart attack.

I always thought nearly dying makes people appreciate those around them even more.

Go figure he found a loophole, like a good lawyer, to still remain a complete asshole.

It’s a struggle to keep my voice level. “I need you to call your partner and let me into the deposit box for my passport and papers.”

Any thought of revealing to him what happened to me has disappeared.

Along with the tiny shred of compassion I almost felt for him.

“I’m not going to do this now. What kind of child are you wanting to vacation while I’m in here?” He drops into a seething bite.

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