Chapter 34 - Collin

Lowyn's cheek is red. Hell, it's practically got the shape of a handprint on it. But I don't ask her any questions because if she tells me he hit her, I will go back up that mountain tonight and take care of things, with or without official permission from Charlie Beaufort.

I know Amon, Nash, and Ryan see it too, but they don't even raise their faceplates in the helicopter. They sit and behave like we're on duty. And I guess we are. Because this was a sanctioned operation, not some half-ass rescue scheme.

We land at a base about an hour away from Disciple by car, but only ten minutes by 'copter.

When we get out, the men and I salute General Forbe, then he offers me his hand and I shake it. "Nice seeing you again, Collin. Don't be a stranger."

"Yes sir, General. Thank you for your help today."

"It was my pleasure." Then he walks off with his underlings and finally, Amon, Nash, and Ryan put their faceplates up. We look at each other, then I nod in the direction of our armored truck, which is parked along the side of a small building.

Lowyn doesn't say anything, just keeps hold of my hand.

We open up the back and start stripping out of our armor. Ryan hops inside and takes our weapons, then each piece of armor as we strip it off, hanging it all up in its proper place. Then, when we are done and only dressed in base-layer fatigues, Amon and Nash take the front and start up the truck. I get in the back with Ryan, lending a hand to Lowyn, pulling her in with me. We sit across from each other.

Then Ryan closes the doors and we're on our way home.

Lowyn is the first one to speak. "I didn't marry him. I mean?—"

"Peaches," I say, looking her in the eyes as I cut her off, "I don't need an explanation. So I hope you don't feel like you need to give one." I do my best not to look at that cheek of hers. But it's kinda hard and I have a feeling I'll be dreaming about murdering that asshole Ike Monroe until the day I die.

I decide to change the direction of these thoughts by pulling out my phone and pressing Jim Bob's contact.

Ester answers, of course. "City Hall, how can I help you?"

"This is Collin. Put Jim Bob on."

She hesitates. Like maybe she's thinkin' about denying my request. But she must think better of it. "One moment, Collin." And she puts me on hold.

Ryan's lookin' at me like he wants to ask questions, but he knows better to ask questions when I'm in a mood like this. So he shrugs and shuts up, looking at the little window between us and Amon and Nash in the front seat.

It takes Jim Bob three minutes to get on the phone. "Collin. I… I just heard."

"Good. Good for you, Jim Bob. This is a courtesy call. I'm just letting you know that me and my men have done our part as far as our security contract goes. We look forward to that million dollars apiece on New Year's Day. Oh, and I know you don't have their last names, so take this down. It's Ryan Desoto and Nash Skinner. Don't fuck it up on the checks."

"Uh…" Jim Bob kinda stammers here. Because, of course, Ryan and Nash are not on that contract that promised us a million dollars each. At least they weren't. But they sure as fuck are now. "Well…" I can hear Jim Bob swallow.

"I told you"—I look Lowyn straight in the eyes for this. There is no point in hiding it anymore. We will have no secrets from this day forward—"that you burned a bridge with me."

"Son—"

"I'm not your son, Jim Bob. And you need to shut up and listen. We're out, but we will get paid. Whatever beef you had with the men up that mountain is over now, thanks to us. Lowyn's out too. She will give you nothing." I'm still watching Lowyn as I say this, my eyebrows raised. Like… if she wants to object, now is the time.

She holds up a finger.

"Hold for a moment, please." I put Jim Bob on hold. "What is it, Low?"

"Well, I made a promise to Sassy Lorraine that I would ask Jim Bob if she could sing in the Revival. Can you make him do that for me? I really like her."

I smile and take Jim Bob off hold. "One more thing. Low's friend is a singer. And she would like to sing in the Revival. You're gonna make that happen."

"Now look, Collin?—"

"No, you look, Jim Bob. Lowyn's out, we're out. And Sassy Lorraine will be singing at the Revival. It's not a request, it's a stipulation. You better give her good parts, too. And stay the fuck away from us. Because if you don't, I will ruin Disciple the same fuckin' way I just ruined Blackberry Hill."

Then I end the call.

Ryan starts laughing. "Thanks, man. I don't really need the money, but fuck it. I'll take it."

I let out a breath and look at Lowyn. "I'm not gonna be stayin' in town anymore and I think you should move in with me."

She stares at me for a moment. Then she nods. "I would love to. But I have one more request."

"What is it?"

"Can I be in charge of decoratin'?"

All of us laugh. And let out a long breath too.

Then I scoot across the aisle, sit next to her on the bench, and slip my arm around her. She leans her head on my shoulder, still shaking a little, but trying to put it behind her. "Of course you can. If you fill that whole place up with junk, I promise to love every bit of it."

Clover Bradley looks like the very same girl I last saw twelve years ago. Long golden-red hair, bright green eyes, and tiny body. Which makes me laugh because she's one of those powerhouse short girls. Athletic, but very cute. She did gymnastics, cheer, track, horse showin', and rifle club. The girl can do a flip off a pony while shootin' a target from twenty yards out and never drop her pom-poms.

Well, that's probably stretchin' it, but if challenged to do that, Clover Bradley would find a way and she would nail it. She's that kind of girl.

Unlike Bryn, who is just Lowyn's sister, Clover was the best-best friend. So if I wanted to date Low back in high school, I had to get approval from Clover.

I mean, technically, this probably isn't true for Lowyn. She loved me no matter what. I know that in my heart. But Clover could've made life difficult for me if we hadn't gotten along.

Plus side to all this—I like Clover. Have always liked Clover. And she gets extra points for getting us a spur-of-the-moment, long-term cottage rental at her super-fancy-fancy hotel in Virginia, the Dixie Yonder.

Would Lowyn be safe in Disciple while our compound house is being remodeled? I have no doubt. But do I want her there? Hell. No.

I'm very much done with all those Trinity towns. Even the ones I might not even know about yet. Because I've been thinking about that cross analogy that Jim Bob was going on about and it has occurred to me that there are not four points on a cross, but five. Because everything meets in the middle, doesn't it?

Now, though, it's no longer my problem. Nor is it even my business.

It's a relief, actually. To have that part of my life permanently put to rest. The moment I came into town I could feel the manipulation. Jim Bob is kinda slick, but he's really not that smart. Still, he was pulling me back in and given enough time, he probably would've gotten me behind that pulpit.

"Oh. Mah. Gosh," Clover says as she looks me up and down. "Collin Creed, as I live and breathe." She looks over at Lowyn, who I guess did not tell her I was back when she called and asked for a cottage. "Where the hell have you been hidin' him?"

"Believe it or not, he's only been back in town a week." Lowyn looks at me and we both laugh. What a helluva week it was.

Clover studies us both with a critical eye, takes a long, long look at Lowyn's cheek, which is still red, then her eyes go to me. "Hmmm. OK, then. Welcome to the Dixie Yonder." She pans a hand towards a path lined with flowerbeds and elm trees. "Follow me."

That's another thing I have always liked about Clover. She is confrontational, like Bryn, but she's also quiet about it, like Lowyn. She's not gonna bring up that handprint on Lowyn's cheek. But she took note and she's gonna tuck that fact away for a time in the future when she might need it.

I know she doesn't think I did it.

I'm also fairly certain she has an idea who did. Because I've been thinking about that wedding up in the mountains and how Jim Bob managed to pacify those Blackberry Hill people so Lowyn could get out of it. And I have a pretty good hunch about how he pulled that off.

Clover pulls Lowyn away from me as we walk, hooking arms with her and leaning in to her shoulder. I dutifully pull our suitcases and let them get a few paces ahead so they can have their little whisper talk. And it all must check out, because when we arrive at the cottage, Clover shoots me a smile and says, "Make yourselves at home. I've already had dinner, but how about we meet up for breakfast tomorrow?"

Lowyn squeezes Clover's hands. "That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you."

Clover laughs that off. "You owe me nothing." Then she twiddles her fingers goodbye while shootin' me a smirk, and leaves back the way we came.

When the door closes and we're alone, Lowyn lets out a sigh as she looks around. And I watch her as she takes it all in. It's vintage in her sense of the word, but it's old stuff. Antique shit. She walks over to the desk, pulls the chair out, and looks at it. There is a painting on the front of the chair back. Sleighs and horses or something. A kind of folk art painting from long-ago times.

"Somethin' interesting about that chair, Low?"

She looks over at me while pointin' to the chair. "What are the chances that we'd go a hundred miles away from the last Hitchcock chair I saw and find a match to the set in our long-term cottage rental at the Dixie Yonder? This is the very chair I was lookin' for in your church." She beams a smile at it, then looks back at me. "If I were an outlaw, I would steal this chair."

The only possible reaction from me is a shake of my head and a laugh. Because, while she didn't mean to, that sentence right there perfectly sums her up. If she were the kind of person who steals things, she would take a chair. Not someone's money. Not anything to get power. Just an old chair that makes up a matching set.

She is good.

And I'm really not sure I deserve her.

This discrepancy in our morals bothers me. So I walk over to her, take her face in my hands—careful not to press hard against her red cheek—and look her in the eyes. "Lowyn McBride. When the trying times come, we will hold hands. And when the heavy times come, we will walk them together. And when the depressing times come, and you feel the burden of life to be so vast and wide that you feel forsaken, I will be there to carry you. No matter how long it takes or how far we must travel, I will carry you, Lowyn McBride. I will carry you."

Her smile grows even wider and her eyes dance with happiness. "I know you will, Collin Creed. I know you will."

Which is exactly how the Revival wedding vow goes.

I promise to carry her, and she promises to trust me.