Nashville Rebel. Sheri WhiteFeather

scrubbed his hand over his face. “Remember when Mom first told us that Dad had another son out there, and how we wondered about him?” They’d been teenagers at the time. Tommy had just turned sixteen and Brandon had been a diligent eighteen-year-old, the senior class president of the private academy he’d attended. Tommy had chosen to go to public school, where Sophie and the rest of his friends were. “I never hated Matt for existing, but I hated Dad for hurting Mom.”

      “I know how deeply it affected you. But everything about Dad has always been harder on you. You look more like him than I do. You’re a performer like he is. You’ve had to fight your way out from under his shadow, even when we were young.”

      “It helps that I have a brother who understands.” Tommy smiled. “And they say lawyers are heartless sharks.”

      Brandon flashed a lethal grin. “I have my moments.”

      No doubt he did. But all Tommy saw was the good in him. “You always supported me, even when I got into trouble.”

      His brother shrugged. “With the way you and Dad used to fight, I knew you needed someone on your side.”

      “Those fights aren’t over yet. We had a raging argument not too long ago about Kara. He read me the riot act, even after I told him the baby wasn’t mine.”

      “Did you call him on the carpet about Matt? About having a grown son he barely knows?”

      Tommy blew out a sigh. “You bet I did. But he just babbled on about how much he’s changed and how focused he is on being a dad now. For someone who’s trying to atone for his mistakes and be a better parent, he doesn’t have a clue how to go about it.”

      Brandon lifted a glass paperweight off his desk, looked at it and set it back down. “He’s been sending me gifts. For all the birthdays and Christmases he missed back in the day.” He glanced up. “Have you been getting presents from him, too?”

      Tommy nodded. Along with a slew of other things, he’d received the same paperweight, containing a sentimental quote inside. “I know his heart is in the right place, but there’s only so much of his interference I can stand. Even when I try not to argue with him, I still lose my temper.”

      “Do you want me to approach him about you and Sophie so this doesn’t turn into a battle?”

      As tempting as the offer was, Tommy declined. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do my dirty work for me.”

      “Are you sure? I’m good at smoothing things over.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll handle it.” Tommy knew that he was doing the right thing by being Sophie’s donor, and no one, not even his dad, was going to take that away from him.

      Sophie cringed. Tommy and his father were snapping at each other, deep in the throes of a heated argument. Now she wished that she wouldn’t have accompanied him to Kirby’s house. Mostly she’d only gone with him so she could talk to his mother, Melinda, about being named as the guardian for her child.

      But she hadn’t gotten a chance to do that, not with the power struggle taking place between the men. Kirby didn’t like their plan at all. He’d blown up the moment Tommy had told him.

      Melinda seemed okay with the idea, or was at least being supportive, the way a parent should be. She’d tried to ease the tension earlier, but her efforts had been in vain. The whole thing was getting out of control, and Sophie didn’t know what to do, either.

      The four of them were in the main parlor of the plantation-style mansion, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and opulence. The entire compound had been dubbed Kirbyville by the press. Even the family had begun to call it that. And what a strange bunch they were, Sophie thought. There was nothing conventional about the Talbots, not with a patriarch like Kirby at the helm.

      His maid had already brought in a pitcher of iced tea and served everyone, creating a formal atmosphere that had gone awry. Kirby looked like his usual legendary self, with his graying beard and signature black clothes. He paced back and forth, rugged and demanding. Melinda was dressed in white, making an angelic contrast to her ex-husband. At fifty-eight, she was as beautiful as ever, with her golden blond hair and tall, slim figure. She sat across from Sophie on a matching antique settee, heaving ragged sighs.

      And Tommy...

      He stood near a window, bathed in natural light, his hair mussed from running his hands through it.

      “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” his dad was saying to him. “It’s not right.”

      “Oh, really?” Tommy countered. “This from the guy who had a secret kid with one of his mistresses?” He glanced at his mom for a second, as if to apologize for being so blunt in front of her. Then he glared at his dad again.

      Kirby grabbed his tea and took a swig, as if he was gulping down the bourbon he used to drink. “I never planned on having a baby with Matt’s mother.”

      “And that makes it okay? You lied to all of us, and later you abandoned him, as if he didn’t matter. You’re the last person who should be giving advice.”

      “Quite the contrary. I’m exactly the guy who needs to do it. I’m telling you, boy, if you’re not going to be the child’s father, then you need to remove yourself from the equation.”

      “Dammit, old man, I’m not a boy.” Tommy set his jaw. “So don’t treat me like one.”

      Sophie gazed at Melinda, and they exchanged uncomfortable glances. Nothing was getting solved.

      Kirby polished off his tea, put the glass down with a thud and narrowed his gaze at his son. “After the last talk we had, I was hoping you’d start becoming more responsible.”

      “Responsible?” Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t a case of me accidentally making Sophie pregnant, like you did with Matt’s mom. We’re entering into a legal agreement, with Sophie choosing to be a single mother. The baby will grow up knowing me as the donor and a close family friend, and if there’s anything Sophie or her son or daughter needs, I’ll provide it. I’m already planning on setting up a trust fund for the kid.”

      “And you think that’s going to help?” his dad replied in a harsh tone. “I established a trust for Matt that didn’t make a hill of beans. After he used it to get his ranch going, he paid back every dime, making damned sure I knew that he no longer needed or wanted my money. It’s taken years for him to forgive me. So why would you purposely give up the rights to your son or daughter, possibly creating problems like that, too?”

      “I’m giving Sophie the baby she wants,” Tommy said, seething. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

      “Because you’re too close to the situation, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

      Tommy stormed over to his dad, his dusty Western boots echoing on the pristine wood floor. He stopped just inches from his father and growled, “You don’t know shit about what I’m thinking.”

      Kirby forged on, his voice getting louder. “I know that you’re an adrenaline junkie who’s always looking for a fix. And once you come down off this latest high, you’re going to be left with a kid who isn’t yours.”

      “It isn’t supposed to be mine!” Tommy yelled. “That’s the whole frigging point of me being the donor!”

      Sophie wanted to tell both of them to shut up. She never used to argue with her dad, not even when she was a teenager. They’d always spoken kindly to each other. She would give anything to have him back. But it was different with Tommy and Kirby; they could fight about the weather. Granted, she understood that Kirby’s views were distorted because of the mistakes he’d made with Matt, but his criticism wasn’t helping. He needed to know when to quit. But Tommy needed to know when to cool off, too.