Planning out renovations and where to begin—the kitchen, Beau. Clearly. What our timeline would look like and how fast we thought we could get Blossom Bed and Breakfast officially up and running—do we have to wait for renovations to be completed? And—oh! Let’s throw a house-warming party!
Crazy girl.
My wife.
I would’ve said yes to anything she’d asked for. Anything to keep that joy bursting from her. To keep that smile lighting up her face in a way I hadn’t seen in so long. To continue walking into whatever room she was in to find her dancing again.
So, a week after we’d moved in, we had the party in the exact spot we’d had our wedding just two months before. Friends and family coming and going until the late hours of the night.
But I’d known . . . I should’ve known.
I’d felt it in the air. Ominous and thick and making me all kinds of anxious for terrible reasons.
I had held tight to Savannah, stare darting around, looking for the threat as I’d forced myself to remain calm. To breathe . . . and found my dad. Looking the same as always and somehow different.
In his stare. In the way he’d smiled or held his drink. I wasn’t sure.
“You good, old man?” I’d asked after slipping away from Savannah.
He had offered me a beer as he reached for another, but I’d shaken my head.
“Great party.” He’d sighed contentedly, smiling as he did, but something about it was off. Like he was baring his teeth, and yet, he wasn’t.
But I could feel it the same as I’d just felt Savannah against my side. It was crawling over my skin and seeping into my blood. My fingers were flexing in a horrible attempt to keep them from curling into fists. That familiar darkness I’d tried outrunning my entire life.
“You good?” I’d repeated, voice lower, rougher.
He’d glanced at me, brows raising. “Oh, you know. That brother of yours.” A tsk had left him as he’d shaken his head. “Can’t stop getting himself into trouble. Just got back from bailing him out of county again.”
“Cayson?”
“’Fraid it’s bad this time,” he’d said in way of confirming before sighing again. “Don’t know what I’m gonna do with that kid.”
Early the next morning, Savannah’s parents had swung by again to let us know they were moving back to Utah. Mr. Riley had a great job opportunity waiting for him, and they wanted to help care for their parents who all had various health issues. They’d been planning the move for a while but had held off for our wedding and to not ruin our excitement over the plantation house.
Despite our early history with them, it’d come as an unwelcome shock to me, and Savannah had been devastated.
In the middle of trying to help them pack and comfort Savannah that evening, I’d gotten a call from my mom. Wondering if we’d seen or heard from Cayson because no one else had since our party. Dad had been grumbling in the background that Cayson was probably just hiding out because of what he’d done, but it wasn’t long after that they’d realized he was gone.
Mom was a wreck. Dad? He just shut down. Wouldn’t talk to anyone about Cayson or what was going on. And then a few nights later, Mom drove out to the orchard when Dad didn’t come in or answer any of her calls.
He’d had a stroke and was already gone.
I lifted my phone from the cupholder of my Explorer and hit the name I’d been repeatedly calling for weeks, my anger and resentment growing with each ring.
When Cayson’s voicemail picked up, I wanted to yell at him as I had so many other times on his voicemail. I wanted to hit him even though I’d promised Savannah, and I hadn’t taken a swing at anyone or anything in the months since that promise.
“Fuck you, Cayson,” I breathed into the phone, my stare finding the house again. “Shoulda been you.”
I got out of my car and slowly headed up to the house, wishing I was anywhere else. Wishing I was about to do anything else other than listen to my dad’s will being read.
Sawyer was inside, near the front door and lingering by the stairs. Face pale and eyes shadowed with purple from sleepless nights. His head slowly turned to find me there on a delay. “I can’t be here,” he said sluggishly. “I gotta go.”
“We have to be here,” I reminded him.
“I can’t—I can’t.” His head shook quickly. “I need to be with her. I don’t have time for this,” he shouted.
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, gripping him tight to me as his body wrenched with silent sobs. “Savannah went over to Leighton’s when I came here,” I said softly. “She’s gonna sit with her until you can go back over there. All right?”
His head shook against my chest. “What am I gonna do? I can’t—I can’t lose her. I have to fix this. How do I fix her?” he cried, the words weak.
The muscles in my jaw strained as I tried to hold it together for him.
As I tried to be there for him when we all knew there was nothing to be done.
The day of Dad’s funeral, Sawyer had gone to find out why his lifelong girlfriend hadn’t been there. Why she hadn’t really been anywhere lately. And had been slammed in the face with what she’d been keeping from everyone behind that crazy mass of hair, a shit ton of clothes, and perfectly crafted lies.
She’d been starving herself for longer than any of us knew, and she was long past the point of saving even though Sawyer was trying so damn hard to do just that. Her organs had already started failing. Each day, she slept longer. Each day, she became weaker.
Watching Leighton die was destroying Sawyer—was wrecking all of us more than we already had been. Watching my youngest brother bear this weight, as if it were all his fault, was tearing me up inside because there was no convincing him otherwise.
I glanced up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs and went still at the sight of Hunter as I had every time I’d seen him in the past weeks.
Expression carefully blank, but there were a hell of a lot of questions and frustrations lingering behind his narrowed stare.
As if he might know something.
As if, during his time in the Army, he’d started hating me the way I’d always expected him to. Needed him to.
Except I’d washed my hands of the shit that happened with Madison. I’d needed to in order to move on with my life with Savannah. Looking at Hunter’s accusatory stare had that guilt and fear clawing at my chest and ice freezing up my veins all over again.
Had me restless.
Had me worried about what I might do, and I couldn’t afford that type of worry. My life and my marriage were at stake.
Once Hunter had passed us and was headed for the dining room, I released Sawyer and directed him to follow. “I’ll get Mom.”
He didn’t respond, just started walking away, looking haunted and like he might collapse at any moment.
With a heavy sigh, I turned for the kitchen, eyes widening as I took in the endless pots and pans and containers of food.
“Mom,” I rumbled as my stare darted over everything to where she was frantically putting containers in a bag. “Mom, you need to stop cooking.”
“I have to feed Leighton.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “That girl—that poor girl. What are we gonna do if she—” A strangled cry worked past her tightly pressed lips before she hurriedly started filling the bag again.