I think it’s cute, although Michael doesn’t love it, especially after her older brother, Nate, and his girlfriend, Shay, just dropped by one day to introduce themselves.
It was kind of weird, like they were checking us out, but I found out later from Nell that they’re the sweetest couple and we had nothing to worry about.
Michael can’t help himself, though.
He’s anxious about settling into this town.
I guess I understand it. His grandpa sheltered him because he was trying to hide him away and keep him safe from their father.
But Michael doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.
I shudder. Michael’s told me most of the story now. It comes out in small bursts at the most random times. Every detail adds to the picture of his horrendous life before coming here… and the horror of that night his grandpa died.
I never ask him about it. Talking about trauma is hard enough, but when he feels safe, the words slip free, and I hold him and say what I can to make him understand that I don’t judge him.
The terror those boys must have faced that night.
Flicking out Jackson’s T-shirt, I check that I managed to get that mustard stain off it and then start folding it. The table is piling up with clean laundry. I didn’t mean to leave it so long. We basically had no clean clothes left.
But life has been busy.
I’ve managed to get myself a job three days a week at a small diner in town. It’s a pretty nice work environment and brings in some extra cash for groceries. The people are, of course, curious as to who I am, but Ray Barrett obviously was well respected, and people seem to like the idea that one of his grandkids has returned to work on the ranch again.
With the help of Thomas and myself, Michael is very slowly repairing the house. He’s quite the handyman and sexy as hell in work boots and a tool belt.
He’s got big dreams for this place, but we both know we can’t do it on our own. The more we learn about ranching, the more we realize how huge this undertaking is. We need to hire someone. The problem is, Michael doesn’t just want someone… he wants his brothers.
I’ve been searching online whenever I go into town. This place still doesn’t have an internet connection. We’re working on it.
Unfortunately, I haven’t managed to find much information on the Barrett boys. Googling a name doesn’t get you too far. There are a lot of Adamses and Barretts in the USA, and who knows if they’ve kept their names or are going by aliases.
I don’t know what we’re going to do.
Clearing my throat, I pick up a pair of jeans and am just folding them in half when the front door jiggles open.
I stare at it, totally confused.
No one ever comes through the front door; we always use the back. And if it was a visitor, wouldn’t they knock first?
Blinking, I prepare myself to question Michael or maybe Nell—she’s pretty good at popping by.
What I don’t expect to see is a mop of scraggly black hair, chipped black nails and long skinny legs walking through the door.
I start and drop the jeans.
The second the woman sees me, she flinches, clutches the child she’s carrying tightly against her chest, then reaches for something in the back of her pants.
“What are you doing here?” she spits. “Who are you?”
The toddler in her arms wails and buries her head into the crook of her neck.
I’m about to ask her the same thing when she whips her arm around and is pointing a gun at my face.
My hands pop up immediately, and I shout the only thing I can think of.
“Michael!”
Annie’s shout makes me instantly stop.
There’s something in her tone that’s way off.
Dropping the board I’m about to nail in place, I race through the back door and screech to a halt when I spot some chick with black hair aiming a gun at my girlfriend.
“Hey.” I snatch her attention, and the gun swings toward me.
The woman’s eyes are wild, her pale round cheeks streaked with running mascara. She looks to be about our age, but she’s cradling a little kid against her. She’s either a really young mom or that’s not her kid.
“You don’t need that gun.” I keep my voice soft and easy. “Why don’t you just put that down and we can talk. Or help you, or—”
“Who are you?” she screams, making the girl in her arms wail and start bawling. “Shhhh! It’s okay.” She bobs the girl on her hip, looking way out of her depth. The gun in her hand is shaking pretty badly, and I’m worried she might accidentally pull the trigger. “This house is supposed to be empty! No one lives here!”
My eyebrows pull together. “This is my house. I used to live here, and I’ve moved back.”
She goes still, her eyes wide as dinner plates as she blinks at me. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Michael. Who are you?”
“Michael?” she whispers, then pulls in a sharp breath. “Michael Barrett?”
“Yes.” I nod, wondering who the hell this person is.
“I see it,” she whispers, the gun dropping down to her side as she starts to cry. “I see it now.” She lets out a laughing, hysterical breath. “You look a bit different than your photo.”
“How do you know him?” Annie points at me, obviously not finding this funny at all. “Tell us who you are!”
The woman sniffs and tucks the gun away, rubbing the girl’s back and trying to talk around her tears. “My name’s Kena. This is Arely.” She lifts the girl on her hip, but the little girl clings tight, keeping her head buried. “Deeks sent us here. He told us it’d be safe.”
“Deeks,” I whisper, moving across the room in a flash. “You know where Deeks is?”
“Yes.” Tears trickle out of her eyes, drawing longer lines of black mascara down her cheeks. “He’s in trouble. Like really big trouble.”
* * *
Click this link to find out more about the next Barrett Boy’s journey home.
THE FIGHTER
Barrett Boys #2
Releasing January 2021
* * *
He’ll do anything to save a young girl’s life. She’s a runaway who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Can a carjacking turn into a partnership that will redeem them both?
* * *
Deeks:
I may be an asshole, but I’d never intentionally hurt an innocent.
I had to steal her car, though.
To save someone I swore to protect.
* * *
I’ve screwed up enough times to turn my life into a wreck.
But I’m not failing on this one.
Maybe this chick can help me.
I don’t want to risk her life, but she’s smart and resourceful, and just might know how to keep us alive.
* * *
Kena Chan with her beautiful eyes and knock-out smile.
Grandpa would love her. He always told me to find a girl who was a thinker. “They’re worth their weight in gold, son. If anyone can get you out of a mess, it’s a woman who’s smarter than you are.”