Page 56 of Perfect Composition

Just as Austyn is about to shove at a bodyguard who easily could hurt her, I bark out, “Mitch, leave it.”

“But sir…”

“It’s fine. Austyn, what’s wrong?”

She scans the room until her eyes settle on Carys, and they marginally relax. “I can’t get a hold of Mama.”

Carys shoots a look at Angie. “We’ll delay a few hours.”

Angie murmurs, “Of course. Austyn, can I get you some coffee?”

“Thanks,” she says gratefully.

Carys guides her into a chair. “When was the last time you spoke to your mother, Austyn?”

“Here. Right here. But I know she flew home to Austin. I managed to get a hold of my Uncle Jesse briefly the day after, but now I can’t. He said she confronted my father. He showed up because as foreman to the Kensington Properties, he could see a car pull up and not leave. He was worried about my grandpa.”

A sick feeling churns in my gut. “What did Jesse say, Austyn?”

Her face turns up to mine, and now I don’t see what’s mine but everything about her that’s Paige. “She yelled at him, accused him of lying her entire life. Uncle Jesse said it was bad, really bad. And Grandpa showed no remorse, none.”

“Does your uncle know where she was going next?” Ward asks. His fingers are on his phone.

“Just to her house. But every time I’ve reached out, she doesn’t answer.”

“Maybe she’s just absorbing everything,” I hear myself say.

Including the web of lies that’s been wrapped around both of us for decades—first around her, then spun from her around me. God, it’s time to cut through them to free both of us.

“You couldn’t possibly understand.” There’s frustration in every word spoken by Austyn. “There isn’t a day where I don’t connect in some way with my mama. Whether it’s just a funny emoji, a GIF, a news article, something. She’s always been that person I can tell anything to. Hell, when I got the letter from all of you, I immediately contacted her while I was on tour on a video chat, buck-ass naked, where I’d just—”

Angie coughs loudly, interrupting my daughter’s rant. I affect a stern face. “There are some things we don’t need to know, young lady.”

“See? Mama didn’t care. Well, she did, but she trusts my instincts. And right now, they’re screaming at me there’s something wrong.”

Before I can do something to worsen the situation, Carys interrupts. “What do you think happened?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I’ve tried home, her office. No answer. I’ve sent texts; they’re delivered, but she’s not responding.”

“It could be she’s just processing everything,” I point out logically.

Austyn shoots me a filthy look, which reminds me of the ones Paige used to hurl in my direction when I would say something insane. I want to cower and beam at the same time. I hold up my hands to placate her. “Right. I get it. That was ridiculous. Tell me what you need and it’s yours.”

For a moment, stunned incredulity replaces the abject worry before suspicion sets in. “Why?”

I fumble for a response. Fortunately, David saves me. “Becks cares for a number of people. I’m not surprised he’d volunteer to help.”

To my shock, that agitates Austyn more. “Oh. I thought it was because he’s…”

“Your father? Damn straight it’s because I am,” I growl.

Belligerently, she whirls on me. “Well, it’s been three days, and I haven’t heard a word from you. I thought you might reach out to me. It’s not like they”—she flings her arm out to encompass my legal team—“are going to just drop your cell number in my lap so we can just skip off to a basketball game.”

I sneer. “I hate organized sports.”

“Me too.”

“I much prefer rodeo,” I announce, likely shocking everyone in the room.