Rebecca unfolded it now.
The image showed a man around twenty-five.
Dark hair.
Crooked smile.
Black leather vest.
Iron Valley patch.
He held a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
Rebecca.
At least, that was what her mother had eventually admitted.
Rebecca returned outside.
Cole saw the photograph.
His entire body seemed to tighten.
She held it out.
“Don't take it.”
“I won't.”
Cole stepped closer.
Rebecca extended the picture but kept two fingers on the edge.
Cole looked down.
All color left his face.
Mason came beside him.
“Oh, God.”
Rebecca pulled the photograph back.
“What?”
Cole stared at her.
“That’s Evan Lawson.”
Rebecca’s chest tightened.
“Lawson?”
“Yeah.”
“My last name.”
“I know.”
“You knew him?”
Cole laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Knew him?”
His eyes filled.
“He was my brother.”
Rebecca took one step backward.
“No.”
“Not blood.”
Cole pointed toward his vest.
“This kind.”
Rebecca looked at Mason.
Mason nodded.
“Evan Lawson rode Iron Valley for eleven years.”
Rebecca looked at the photograph.
Then back at Cole.
“My mom said he left.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Before I remember.”
“How old were you?”
Rebecca shrugged.
“Maybe two.”
Cole looked at Mason.
Again that silent exchange.
Rebecca hated it.
“Stop doing that.”
Cole looked at her.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at each other like you know something I don't.”
He exhaled.
“You're right.”
“Then tell me.”
Cole looked toward the diner windows.
“Not in the parking lot.”
Rebecca immediately stiffened.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Cole corrected himself.
“We can stay right here.”
Rebecca watched him.
He seemed to understand now that every wrong move mattered.
“You said my dad was your brother.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Cole did not answer.
Rebecca’s face changed.
Her voice became smaller.
“Where is he?”
Cole looked down.
“That’s complicated.”
“No.”
“It isn't.”
“Either he's alive or he isn't.”
Cole’s eyes met hers.
“We were told he died.”
Rebecca stopped breathing.
The parking lot blurred.
For a second she thought she might faint.
She gripped the bat.
Cole stepped forward instinctively.
Rebecca lifted it.
He stopped.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Rebecca—”
“My mom said he left.”
Cole said nothing.
“She said he didn't want us.”
His face tightened.
“She told me he got tired of being a father.”
Rebecca laughed harshly.
“That's what she said.”
“People get tired.”
“People leave.”
“Stop expecting people to stay.”
Her voice cracked on the last sentence.
Cole stared.