“Even if I lived here,” I continued, “would I really be the best person for Truman? I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“He deserves someone more… I don’t know. Polished? Educated? Interesting?”
Tiller’s smirk dropped, and he leaned toward me over the island. “Do you remember who dropped everything to board up my house when a hurricane was coming and I was in Cleveland for a game? Do you remember who picked my parents up from the airport in the middle of the night when I was stuck in San Francisco? And by any chance do you remember who stood up to five fucking asshole tough guys who tried to beat the shit out of Mikey in the high school parking lot one night after band practice even though your dad had been arrested only a week before and your mom was still in the hospital?”
“None of those things imply polish, education, or interest,” I said.
“True. They prove that you’re better than any of those things. You have a giant fucking heart, and you take care of people. You are selfless and protective, kind and hardworking. You are one of the most steadfast people I’ve ever known, and in almost six years of leaving Mikey behind while I traveled for work, I’ve never once had to worry about him. Because of you. Because I know you’re there and you love him as much as I do.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t like being the center of this kind of attention. “With a hundred percent less dick involved,” I clarified, in hopes of breaking the intense emotions of the moment.
He barked out another laugh. “Damned straight.” Tiller studied me for a minute. “Truman may not want to be coddled, I don’t know. But he could definitely use someone strong and protective in his corner, and he’d be lucky if it was you.”
“Thank you. Now shut the fuck up.”
“Detroit traded Owen Watson to Seattle,” he said as if we’d been talking football all along.
“No shit? Who’s going to replace him?”
Tiller and I spent a solid half hour speculating and talking smack about the league until a sleepy Mikey came shuffling out of the bedroom. “You two are not quiet,” he grumbled.
Tiller grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss. “Sorry, babe.”
“How was your date?” Mikey asked with a knowing smile.
“Really fucking good. The man is an award-winning kisser. He showed me the view of town from his patio. I learned that he has a sister who teaches dance at a college, and his aunt actually got the farm in a trade from a homeopathic patient.”
Tiller’s jaw fell open in shock while Mikey begged for more details.
“You’re kidding me,” Tiller said. “I asked the same question, and you answered with a one-word grunt.”
I shot Mikey a wink. “You have to know how to ask.”
Tiller lifted his middle finger at me.
After I stopped laughing, I asked, “Do you guys know anything about a sheriff’s department fee the shop owners in town have to pay for law enforcement service?”
Tiller’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about it. “I don’t remember anyone mentioning it when I went over the licensing and business fees associated with getting the resort back up. Maybe it’s just for businesses in town? The ski resort is outside city limits.”
“If we go into town for breakfast in the morning, would you mind asking your friends there?”
Tiller and Mikey both nodded. I stood up and thanked them before heading to bed. I got as far as the bathroom to brush my teeth when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was Truman. And he was sobbing.
“It’s on fire! The shop. On fire, Sam. It’s on fire. On…” I could barely understand him through his tears. I raced out of the room and barged into Mikey and Tiller’s room without knocking.
“Fire in town at Truman’s shop,” I said quickly. “Taking the SUV.”
Mikey quickly asked if we wanted them to come, too, but I didn’t want to wait for them to get dressed. “No. I’ll call you.”
As I ran back through the house to grab the keys, I tried getting Truman to calm down. “Where are you, sweetheart? At the farm?”
“No, Barney came to get me. I’m at the shop. It’s awful. Sam… Sam… can you… Can you come here?”
“I’m on my way, baby. Hang tight, okay? Stay away from the shop. Are the firefighters there?”
The drive to town seemed to take forever, and every hiccup of Truman’s slowed down the flow of information. I finally saw the commotion out front of the shop and pulled the SUV over to the side of the road before hopping out and making my way through the growing crowd of onlookers.
I finally found him with the older man’s arm around his shoulder. I skidded to a halt, not wanting to upset him by yanking him out of his ex’s arms. I didn’t know their history. For all I knew, Barney Balderson was a great comfort to Truman. I’d known the man all of a day and a half.
“Truman,” I said as I approached. He let out a garbled sound as he spotted me and then lurched in my direction. I wasn’t sure if he’d intended to fly into my arms or not, but he tripped halfway there and landed against me anyway. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.
I could see the confused face of his ex in the shadows caused by the fire engine’s swirling lights.
I closed my eyes and breathed. “Are you okay? You didn’t get close, did you?”
I finally opened my eyes and looked at the building. It was completely engulfed. The windows were broken, and large columns of water shot through several of them from thick hoses managed by firefighters on the ground and in one of the truck’s ladders.
“It’s ruined,” he breathed without even looking at the building. “Everything Aunt Berry worked for. Everything she built. I’ve ruined it all.”
“How did you ruin it?” I asked, keeping my arms banded tightly around his back.
“They set my shop on fire because they hate me,” he said in a small voice into my chest.
I pulled back and gripped his face so I could meet his eyes. “What? Who did this? This was set on purpose? Do you know that for sure?”
Truman’s eyes were wet with tears, and his face was golden in the light from the fire. I looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear us, and the only person was Barney.
“No, I don’t know it for sure, but the building passes safety and code inspections every year. Why else would my store catch on fire?”
Barney stepped closer and patted Truman’s shoulder. I wanted to snap and growl at him, break his fucking hand off his arm for even thinking of touching Truman right now, but I recognized that as entirely inappropriate and uncalled for. Barney was more of a friend to Truman than I was. I’d only known the man a couple of days, and I was heading back out of town before the week was out.
The older man cleared his throat. “I think Truman might be right. Plenty of people in this town have had it out for Truman for a long time. He needs to take better care of his safety. I keep trying to tell him, he’s safer at home.”
Truman pulled out of my hold enough to include Barney in the conversation, but I noticed he kept a tight grip on the back of my shirt with one hand.
Barney looked at Truman with parental-type affection. “Truman’s going to come stay with me for a little while, aren’t you, sweet pea?”