The kid poked at the lavender wales on her corduroy pants. “My—my mom’s boyfriend told her about you last year. I sort of heard them talking. He used to work for my dad. But he made her swear not to tell anybody, not even Aunt Gayle.”

He braced his hand on one of the caravan’s ribs. “I’m surprised your mom knew about the farm.”

“I don’t think she did. I heard my dad talking to somebody on the phone about it.”

Riley seemed to overhear a lot of things. Dean wondered how his father had found out about the farm. “Give me your phone number,” he said, “so I can call your house and tell them you’re all right.”

“There’s only Ava, and she doesn’t like when the phone wakes her up too early. It makes Peter mad.” Riley picked at the blue nail polish on her thumb. “Peter’s Ava’s boyfriend.”

“So Ava must be your au pair?” he said. Nice work, Jack.

Riley nodded. “She’s pretty nice.”

“And incredibly competent,” Blue drawled.

“I didn’t tell anybody about—you know,” she said in earnest. “I know it’s a big secret. And I don’t think Mom did, either.”

Secrets. Dean had spent his early childhood years believing Bruce Springsteen was his father. April had even invented an elaborate story about Bruce writing “Candy’s Room” about her. But it had all been wishful thinking. When Dean was thirteen and April had been high on God-knew-what, she’d blurted out the truth, and his already chaotic world had turned upside down.

Eventually, he’d found the name of Jack’s lawyer in April’s stuff, along with a collection of photos of April and Jack together, plus evidence of the support money Jack was paying out. He’d called the lawyer without telling April. The guy had tried to stonewall him, but Dean had been as stubborn then as he was now, and finally, Jack had called him. It was a brief, uncomfortable conversation. When April found out, she went on a weeklong bender.

Dean and Jack had their first face-to-face encounter, a secretive, awkward meeting in a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont, during the L.A. segment of the Mud and Madness tour. Jack had tried to act like Dean’s best friend, but Dean hadn’t bought it. After that, Jack had insisted on seeing him a couple of times a year, and each secretive visit was more miserable than the last. At sixteen, Dean rebelled.

Jack left him alone until Dean’s sophomore year at USC, when his face started popping up in Sports Illustrated. Jack had started calling again, but Dean had frozen him out. Still, Jack occasionally ran him to ground, and Dean sometimes heard that Jack Patriot had been spotted at a Stars game.

He got down to business. “I need a phone number, Riley.”

“I…kind of forget.”