She followed him anyway, despite the stern look he cast her way. When they reached the door, Dare put an arm out to keep her back, his chest puffing out, face stern as granite. “Do not come in here until I check it out.”

Tracey’s heart raced as Dare stepped inside. She peered in at a small living room and kitchen, both of which looked like they’d been ransacked. Couch cushions were upended, cupboards emptied, drawers rifled through, the contents littering counters and floors. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as Dare moved down the hall, peering into rooms. He stopped at the second room on the right, his shoulders dropping, and she knew something was wrong. She ran down the hall, pushing past him, and entering the room painted with forests, hobbits, elves, and wizards, some messy and childlike, others so real, she felt like she’d entered another world—until her eyes hit Diesel, sitting on the floor with his back against a hospital bed, surrounded by overturned boxes, scattered papers and photographs. His knees were bent, elbows resting on them, his forehead in one palm and a journal dangling from his other hand.

Tracey ran to him and dropped to her knees. “Diesel, what happened?”

His grief-stricken eyes met hers, his jaw clenching. He shot a questioning look at Dare.

“She showed up at the ranch, man.”

“Don’t look at him,” Tracey snapped, emotions bowling her over. “Look at me. What do you think I’m doing here? I was worried about you!”

His eyes narrowed, and he lifted his chin in Dare’s direction, another silent message passing between them. This one she could read, a thank-you and a request for space.

“I’ll leave your bags out front, Tracey. D, you know how to reach me.”

“Thank you,” Tracey said as he walked away. With her heart in her throat, she moved closer to Diesel. “What happened? Did you do all of this? Are you okay? I got your text, and Red said you think Axel might be your father?”

He stared at her, silent seconds exploding like bombs. Just when she didn’t think she could take it anymore, he said, “Yeah.” His eyes fell to the journal, his fingers holding a page open as he handed it to her. “It’s all here.”

She took it and began reading, her heart breaking anew with every entry as she learned about Axel losing his first love, Diesel’s mother thinking she’d found hers, and pages of excitement and heartache later, his mother realizing it had been unrequited, or misdirected, but not a mistake, and that was what was most important. She closed the journal and set it on the floor. “He was your father.”