Beneath the Stain - Part 7 Read Online Free PDF Page B

with practice,” he said with false modesty, and his brothers laughed.
    “Well, I think it’s disgusting,” Sam said with venom. She reached out for the baby, and Grant angled his body protectively. “I don’t want her out here with these people,” she said, like she hadn’t grown up with all of them.
    “Well, that’s not your choice anymore,” Grant said levelly. “That’s why the lawyer’s here, and that’s why Mackey brought Trav. She’s a part of their lives, Sam, and she’s gonna be after I’m gone.”
    “You’re hateful,” she hissed and then turned and stalked away, leaving the air frigid and toxic.
    The baby snuggled into Grant’s arms for a second and then struggled to be let up. “Damn,” Grant said, setting her down. “Jeff, Stevie, could you guys chase after her? Blake, could you help? I gotta talk to these guys for a second.”
    They were walking after the little girl even before Grant finished speaking, and Grant breathed a sigh of relief. “She likes watching the horses work!” he called and then fell back coughing.
    “You need to come inside.” The voice was unfamiliar, and Mackey looked back toward the house. The man with the curly hair and the cowboy hat—Grant’s dad—was walking from the front yard with a purposeful stride.
    Grant kept coughing, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and coughed into it. When he pulled it away, it was flecked with red, and Mackey closed his eyes.
    “Dad, you need to take Mr. Ford inside and talk to the lawyer, okay?”
    Mr. Adams narrowed his eyes. “Grant, you know your mother and I don’t like this—”
    “And I’m dying, and I hired my own lawyer, and he drew up the papers, and they’re my last will and testament, and Mackey needs to know. Trav’s going to be there to keep it all aboveboard.” Grant might have been closer to dead than alive, but damn, he’d grown a backbone in the past two years. “I want this, Dad. I gave up everything, my whole life, for the things you expected me to be. But I want this—and for once, I’m going to get what I want.”
    “Fine!” Mr. Adams snapped. He glared at Mackey and Kell. “You boys should be proud of yourselves. Man, all the things my boy had, and the only thing he wanted was to be white-trash faggots like you.”
    Mackey was going to say something, but God. Grant looked so sick. He didn’t have the heart.
    Kell looked Grant’s dad in the eye, though, and damned if Mackey’s brother didn’t say, “Our house is bigger than yours. And it’s in LA, so the property values are higher. And more than a million people screamed my brother’s name last year. If you’d been any less of a bastard, just think—your boy coulda married up.”
    Grant’s dad actually took a stump-legged step toward Kell, but Trav left Mackey’s side and stood in the way.
    “Grant said I needed to talk to a lawyer? Why don’t you show me the way.”
    It wasn’t a question. Not really.
    Mackey stood back and watched them go, missing Trav’s warmth at his side already. He and Kell turned back to Grant, who smiled in relief.
    “God, that’s a load off my mind. I mean, I was going to do this anyway—I had the lawyer draw up the papers before your mom came by—but I’m just so glad I get to tell you.”
    “Tell us what?” Kell asked, squatting down.
    Grant leaned forward and touched foreheads with Mackey’s brother. “I have been sitting on this porch for an hour,” he said, smiling. “Think you and Mackey could help me across the yard? Man, I hated this place for so long, but I sure would like to see more of it right now.”
    Kell nodded and stood. “C’mere, Mackey, get his other side.”
    He smelled like old pot and sickness—even a little like urine. Mackey guessed it was probably hard to get to the bathroom when everything hurt. As Mackey and Kell helped him stand up to walk across the yard, the scant weight on his shoulder felt hollow and insubstantial,