Chapter 8

8

I hadmy phone on the counter next to my tipped-on-its-side box of crackers, listening to my mother while I squirted a dollop of canned cheese on a Triscuit.

“Your dad’s taking Christian to the YMCA on Saturday if you want to come over and keep me and Gracie company.”

That was code for ‘chasing a fifteen-month-old around is exhausting, please come help.’ And that got me wondering as it always did how my parents were going to raise and keep up with a six-year-old and a very newly walking toddler.

Are one-year-olds considered toddlers or are they still babies?

“What time?” I asked and shoved the cracker in my mouth.

“They’re leaving around noon.” There was a pause before, “Are you eating crackers for dinner?”

“Yep,” I mumbled but since my mouth was full it came out sounding like “yarp.”

Talking with my mouth full—classy.

Though in fairness, I was eating alone so there was no one around to see the disgusting half-chewed food.

“Mellie Kate, your diet is atrocious.”

Her disapproval was always unwelcomed considering she’d been scolding me about my eating habits since I was five, but most certainly unwelcomed when I was eating cheese and crackers because I had nothing else to eat and my cabinets were all but bare.

“They’re Triscuits.”

“So?”

“Triscuits are healthy.” I moved the corner of the box and titled my head to read the nutrition facts on the side. Well damn, they weren’t exactly healthy. “There’s no cholesterol and no saturated fat.”

There was also off-the-charts sodium, but I wasn’t going to mention that and I was pretending the canned cheese was zero calories.

I prepared another cracker and went back to the conversation.

“I’ll come over on Saturday.”

“I’ll make a roast and we’ll have an early dinner.”

I could hear it the moment my mom remembered roast was Analise’s favorite, not mine. The very millisecond when the pain and sadness crept in.

“I love your roast, too, you know.”

“Yes, my sweet Mellie, I do know.”

I debated whether or not I should say it, then I thought, screw it. We had to stop whispering my sister’s name. It was time to start talking about her again.

“Remember when you tried that new recipe and made the roast in the crockpot and Ana said she was protesting?”

I tried to interject as much humor as I could to remind my mom of something silly my sister did.

“Your father just got home. I should run.”

Shit.

I totally failed.

“Mom—”

“I love you, Mellie Kate.”

I heard my phone disconnect and I closed my eyes.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Welp, that was a big ol’ fuckup.”

My eyes popped open and my head turned when I heard a knock on my door.

And not just any knock—Garrett’s.

It was strange, but he always knocked three times.

The pattern always the same.

Bang. Wait a beat. Bang. Another beat. Bang.

For years my heartrate would spike when I heard that knock. I’d rush to the front door knowing Garrett would be waiting on the other side.

Now my heartrate spiked for the same reason—Garrett was on the other side of the door.

Only now I didn’t have the butterflies that used to accompany my racing heart.

I plopped another cracker in my mouth and stayed standing in my kitchen, hoping he’d think I wasn’t home.

There was only so much I could take. This morning by some miracle I’d played it cool. But as the day wore on I’d started to have a mini freakout about finding Garrett in my room. Then I crawled into my head and couldn’t stop wondering why he’d come back. I knew what he’d told me, but when he found me asleep, he didn’t leave; he’d sat on the floor all night. Not on my couch. Not on my bed. On the floor. That was weird. I also had a minor panic attack that I hadn’t heard him come in. Which scared the crap out of me. I slept like the dead, but I’d always assumed that if someone broke in some sort of intuition would wake me up. Fight or flight or something like that would kick in and I’d just know someone was in my house.

Nope.

I slept through it.

And thinking back over the morning, why hadn’t I been pissed he broke in? Why did I participate in friendly banter?

I was swallowing my cracker when another three knocks came. Only this time the door opened after the third rap.

“Wait here.” Garrett said and I heard the door close.

“By all means, come in,” I snarked as I walked into my living room. “Not like I wasn’t…”

My words trailed off when a man stepped in beside Garrett.

My gaze darted between the two men and finally settled on the stranger. Light hair, a few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, blue eyes that were right then taking me in the same way I was assessing him. One arm full of tattoos, the other bare. He was an inch or two taller than Garrett but not as broad or muscular. He also looked tanned like he’d just spent a few months surfing in Hawaii.

In other words, he was very good-looking and if he wasn’t standing next to Garrett for comparison, he would’ve been hot.

“Hey there, I’m Cash.”

Smoothed and practiced.

Without thinking I asked, “Does that work?”

Cash’s lips twitched when he returned, “Does what work?”

“The smooth, sexy voice? Does that actually work on women?”

“Smooth and sexy, you say?”

I heard Garrett growl which made Cash smirk.

If the stubble or the voice didn’t work that smirk would have women eating out of the palm of his hand.

“Never mind. Forget I asked.” I waved my hand in front of me and turned to Garrett. “Why are you here?”

“I like her,” Cash murmured.

Garrett ignored his friend and focused on my question.

“When do the kids go back to your parents?”

“This weekend, why?”

Garrett didn’t answer me. Instead, he glanced over at Cash.

“You’re on Slater this weekend. I’ll take Steve.”

“Anywhere in particular he likes to hang out?” Cash asked.

I looked back and forth between the two men, unclear on what was going on.

“Maybe you can explain to me what’s happening?”

“Slater’s twenty grand into a guy named Ran.”

“Randal Henderson?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Cash rejoined.

This was bad.

Really bad.

“Are you saying Slater owes Randal Henderson twenty thousand dollars?”

“Who’s Randal Henderson?”

Shit, that was three times we’d said his name and like any good bogeyman he might appear if his name was said again.

“He’s a criminal. Total asshole. Worse than Steve and Slater put together. Think the Devil and Jason made a baby, that’s Ran.”

Garrett blew out an exasperated breath and mumbled, “I knew I never should’ve let you watch that movie.”

“Let me? You mean you never should’ve watched it with me. Though if you hadn’t you would’ve missed out on the best 80’s slasher flick ever made.”

“Focus, baby. Who’s Ran?”

“I told you, he’s an asshole and a criminal.”

“Evidence is suggesting that’s a fact. However I’m more interested in knowing what you know about him.”

“I don’t know much. I avoid him because he’s an asshole. I’ve spoken to him once at Sweet Lous. The encounter was less than pleasant so I made sure if I ever see him to stay clear. I know he’s a criminal because he works at the tire shop, which is pretty much the only place in town that will hire someone with a felony. Don’t get me started on that bullshit, but in this case, I can see why no one else wanted to hire him. It’s one thing to make a mistake, pay for your crime, then come back out and be a good, decent person. It’s another to make a mistake, not learn from it, and be a douchebag. So, he works at Jerry’s Tire Shop because Jerry’s the only person who will put up with him. However, Ran drives a brand-new GMC truck and he’s always out at the bar and he lives out on the old St. James Farm. There’s no way he’s got that kinda cash working at Jerry’s.”

I thought I heard Cash say Cash is king under his breath, but before I could ask, Garrett spoke.

“What does unpleasant mean?”

“Huh?”

“You said you had a less than pleasant encounter. What does that mean?”

The timbre of Garrett’s tone had lowered, taking on a rough edge. The unfortunate part about this was that my body remembered all of the things I didn’t want to. Even as a young man he’d perfected the growly rasp. Not only had he honed that skill he knew how much it turned me on. Not that he was growling per se, but it was close enough to make my belly whoosh.

“He was hitting on my friend Wendy. She turned him down and he got nasty. Seriously nasty, saying mean shit like he was trying to do a good deed by taking her ugly ass home. Just mean. Before I could say something, the bartender…you remember Samuel from high school?” I waited for Garrett to nod. “He’s the head bartender there. He stepped in and kicked Ran out.”

“Sam was always a good guy,” Garrett rightly noted.

“Agreed. Him and Wendy ended up hooking up. Not that night. A few months later. It’s been years they’ve been together now.” I thought of something else and continued, “You should talk to Sam. I know it wasn’t around when you were here but Sweet Lous is a hotspot and as much as it pisses Sam off, Ran’s a regular. Bet Sam would have a lot to say.”

Garrett looked over at Cash, “I’ll hit up Sam tomorrow.”

“I’ll start with Ran. If he goes to work, I’ll swing by Steve’s, see what he’s up to.”

“Kira should have a full brief for us in the morning. You up for an early meet?”

“Dude, I’m still on East Coast time.”

I noticed Garrett didn’t correct or even wince at Cash calling him dude.

“So, Cash can call you dude but anyone else does it and we get chastised?”

“What’s this?” Cash inquired.

“He hates being called dude,” I informed him. “Or at least he hates it when I say it.”

“You do?”

That was Cash asking Garrett. What Garrett didn’t do was answer Cash, he addressed me instead.

“I hate when you say it because I’m not some guy to you. I’m not some dude. I’m yours, so yes, I hate it when you say it but I don’t mind my team saying it.”

I heard nothing beyond, I’m yours.

Yes, once upon a time Garrett was mine and I was his.

But he was not that anymore so hearing the words hurt like a sonofabitch.

I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. It was becoming clearer that Slater was into some really bad stuff, and I needed Garrett’s help finding out exactly what we were up against and what that meant for the safety of my niece and nephew.

But I wasn’t entirely sure I could live another day being around Garrett.

I loved Christian and Gracie beyond measure. I promised my sister I would always look out for them. I loved my family—something I’d proven time and time again—yet there I was proving the depth of my loyalty by having my insides carved out.

“I got shit to do,” Cash strangely announced. “Melissa, it was nice to meet you. G, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Um, yeah, it was nice meeting you and thank you for your help.”

Cash gave me a lopsided smile that I figured was his real grin, not the fake smirk he used to get women to drop their panties. “Haven’t done anything worth thanking me for.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Melissa, but I’m here for my brother. Helping you is just a bonus.”

With that, I watched Garrett’s body tense and his jaw tic.

No further goodbyes were exchanged between the men before Cash left.

Garrett held my stare but said nothing.

The longer he held my stare the more I felt something move through me. Familiar and warm. That long-ago connection that never really severed but had dulled over time snapped back into place with such strength it winded me.

And there my Garrett stood.

Worry and pain and raw guilt stamped all over him. In his eyes, the creases in his forehead, the slope of his shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest.

Broken.

That was the only word that came to mind.

He was utterly broken.

“What was that about?” I asked.

Part of me hoped him hearing my voice would break the spell. But a bigger part prayed it didn’t.

“I quit.”

I blinked in confusion.

“You quit what?”

“My team. I quit and left without a word. Packed my shit and abandoned them.”

That didn’t sound like something Garrett would do. Or at least he wouldn’t do it without a very good reason. He wasn’t a quitter, and he had more loyalty than anyone I knew.

Except when he got fed up with my excuses. Then he left.

“And Cash was on your team,” I prompted.

“Yeah.”

Garrett obviously had something to say, or more to the point, he needed to get this off his chest. But I had no idea what to ask next or how to lead this conversation.

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

Garrett bent at the middle, coming closer but not really moving, and snarled, “Ask me why I quit. Why I ran. Why I fucked over my brothers. Ask me why I abandoned my brothers.”

He spat the words. Each one torn out of him. Each one dripping in anger. Each one so painful to hear I didn’t want to ask. Because I knew the answer would be agony. Absolute soul-crushing anguish. He wouldn’t abandon anyone, especially not his team, not his brothers. Unless it was something so big, he felt he had no choice.

In which case it wouldn’t be guilt I saw—it would be torment.

He was torturing himself.

Cash was here in Montana to help Garrett so there was no ill will.

This was all Garrett holding onto something he’d perceive as inexcusable.

The ultimate sin.

And who was Kira and how did she fit in?

One day you’ll believe me when I tell you there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

I saw the pain he was in when he was speaking to her.

The woman had gutted him with a sweet statement.

He didn’t want that from her.

Kira was the key.

That’s where I needed to start.