by Sosie Frost
“So much food!” She grinned. “I was so hungry!”
Good thing Cassi drove the cart. My heart lurched. Hard.
“How hungry?” Cassi played along. She didn’t know it wasn’t a game.
“Mommy had no dinners.”
Cassi glanced at me. Great. How the hell was I supposed to explain it with the kids right there?
“Chemo.” I guessed a poison was a poison. “Emma would get nauseous. Didn’t like anything in sight.”
“Poor thing.”
Yeah. Right. “Mellie, you can have anything you want. Go ham.”
“Ew.” She scrunched her nose. “Ham.”
“You don’t like a lot of things, do you?”
Cassi grinned. “Not going to get any easier.”
No. It wasn’t, but not for the reasons she thought. I nodded behind her. Her smile faded.
Julian Payne was the very model of a Payne man—an irritating prick with a self-righteous belief in doing what was right for the family, even if it meant pissing everyone off. Which meant I was in trouble.
My best friend, Tidus, had sent Cassi to the cabin, but apparently, he hadn’t told his eldest brother I was in town. Or that I hauled two little girls around with me to the grocery store.
Farm life did the boy good—Jules was what now? Thirty-three? Thirty-four?
Old enough to take his shit seriously, and Christ, was he serious.
“Hey, Cas.” Jules knew better than to call Cassi to his side like a dog. She wouldn’t have answered when she was a kid, and she’d probably take out his knees now. He glared at me with those sharp Payne green eyes all the men shared. “What the hell are you doing back?”
No greeting? No small talk.
Yeah. Probably didn’t deserve any, especially from Jules.
“Shopping,” I said.
“It’s fine, Jules.” Cassie edged between me, the cart, the kids, and her brother. “I’m helping Rem shop for the kids.”
Jules frowned. “They’re yours?”
I hadn’t become so degenerate that I was knocking up random women. “They’re my nieces.”
“Emma’s sick,” Cas said.
Wished she hadn’t told him. Last thing I needed was anyone spreading that news. Though anything was better than the story of Julian Payne interrogating me in the middle of the produce aisle like I was a damn criminal.
I hadn’t broken a law or a heart in five years. I planned to keep it that way.
Mellie introduced herself by nearly snapping her ankle as she tumbled from the cart. She spotted a display of Cheerios across the store and took off running, arms outstretched, screeching like a banshee until she collided with the boxes. They toppled over her. Mellie oophed, but she delighted in the cereal avalanche.
Jules watched her with a cheap ass grin. “Yeah. She’s definitely a Marshall.”
“Jules.” Cassie’s scold was noted and ignored by both of us. “He’s doing something good.”
“For once.”
Her voice lowered. “It’s been a long time.”
“Think that makes it right?” Jules snapped.
The Payne boys puffed themselves up when they thought it’d intimidate folks. Always using their strength instead of their heads. I did it too, but I learned a little too late that broad shoulders could withstand everything except the weight of everyone’s hatred.
Jules wasn’t happy. “You think buying the kids some Oreos makes up for the money we blew and the stress we lived with? We almost lost the farm because of him!”
Good thing Mellie had decided to construct a fort out of the cereal boxes. And Tabby didn’t understand much of what was happening anyway. Just thought of me as a giant man with hair on his chin that she could tug. The girls didn’t have a clue that I was out of my element, and they knew even less of the past that shadowed me everywhere I slunk.
“Not looking for trouble, Jules,” I said. “Just gotta drag my niece out of Fruit Loop canyon over there, and I’ll be gone.”
“For good?”
“I’m not camping out in Barlow’s store. Got a cabin in the mountains.”
“Still too close for my liking.”
Mine too. “I’m minding my own business.”
Jules jerked his thumb towards Cassi. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re hanging around some of our business again.”
Cassi stiffened. “That business has a name.”
That didn’t please her brother. “Oh, you better not be selling anything…especially to some lowlife like Remington Marshall.”
Tabby clapped her hands. “Rem!”
Enough was enough. I wasn’t much of a man after what I’d done, but I still had to care for my own. No sense letting the kids hear the bullshit, even if it was all true. Mellie gave me a decent escape as she now set siege to the frozen meat case from her cereal castle.
I glanced to Cassi. “Thanks for the help. Go back with Jules. I got it from here.”
She frowned. “Rem—”
“I got it. Feed em, bathe em, no fires.”
“But…”
“All I need is another pack of diapers for the kid you seem to think should be drinking more water and milk. I’ll take care of the walking sprinkler and head home. I got this.”
She sighed. “Don’t forget the nuggets. And some frozen veggies too.”
We’d survive.
“It was…” Fantastic. Mind-blowing. Heartbreaking. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah.” Her voice softened. “Same here.”
Jules didn’t bother looking at me. “Don’t let me catch you pissing around with Tidus or my sister. You’re no good for them.”
It was the truth. Also didn’t matter. Only thing I had to worry about now was the baby dead-set on kicking me in the balls from the cart’s seat. Also the terror-stricken toddler suddenly weeping over the Cheerios box, fearing she’d hurt the cartoon bee.
The kids were the only reason I was in town. I’d give it a couple weeks, drop them off with Emma, and I’d be done. No need to worry about anything else.
No need to bother Cassi. To see Cassi.
To apologize. To beg for forgiveness.
No need to steal her back.
I’d already hurt her once. I wouldn’t break her heart twice.
3
Cassi
One overprotective big brother was a problem.
Two was a coincidence.
Three brothers, and it felt like a conspiracy.
Four was ridiculous.
Five arrogant, combative, devoted brothers was a nightmare.
I wasn’t a little girl anymore, one who needed to have her bullies silenced or desserts snuck into her room while she was supposed to be grounded. I’d grown up. Probably more than them. Took on the responsibilities of Dad and the farm and my own education.
It wasn’t that I didn’t need them anymore—in fact, the family needed each other more than ever.
But…
And that was a mighty big but…
I didn’t need my older brother defending my honor in the middle of the produce section.
Especially as, for the first time since I’d known the man, Rem wasn’t looking for a fight. Hell, he hadn’t even pushed back. But why? Rem had never missed a chance to brawl in a bushel of Brussels sprouts before.
How much trouble did Remington Marshall get himself into by taking in those little girls?
Fortunately, Butterpond had a system for conflict resolution and community outreach. When illnesses struck, chicken noodle soups and chili was delivered to the sick. When a death occurred, the residents mourned over their stoves and baked pastries until the grief passed or arteries clogged. Picnics were potluck, church events casseroles, and Christmas buried us in cookies.
But I wasn’t sure what to bring to apologize for my brother almost turning the Shop N’ Mart into a cage match. A fruit salad didn’t say—I’m sorry, but my family has decided it’s easier to threaten you than admit how much it hurt when yo
u left us. A pot roast should have been saved for a man who didn’t break my heart. And a pie…well, there were terrible connotations there. I wasn’t bringing a cream pie within five feet of a man who would think of it as a challenge. Apple was too obvious a temptation. And cherry?
Ha.
No way.
I decided on neutral ground. A sandwich ring. Nothing said cordiality like bologna.
I pulled up to the cabin and frowned. Why did he insist on leaving the front door open? I hauled the sandwich ring to the porch and rapped on the door with my foot.
“Hey…” My voice choked off. I nearly dropped the food.
Rem finished spraying the charred rug in front of the fireplace and set the fire extinguisher on the couch. He tapped out a scorched corner with his boot then kicked the frosted, destroyed rug towards the garbage in the kitchen.
He’d shaved his beard.
Not all of it. Just trimmed it close to his jaw. An immaculately chiseled jaw. The dark beard sculpted his face. Not such a wild, mountain savage anymore. Rem might have been the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
I tucked the sandwiches on the counter and smiled. “Did I miss the show?”
Mellie used the cushion as a trampoline to careen up and over the back of the sofa. She landed at my feet and grinned. Tabby also played on the sofa, though Rem had foreseen her inevitable fall. A half dozen pillows padded the floor to catch the baby as she rolled off the side.
“I got it under control,” Rem said.
“What happened?”
“As best I can tell…” He poked around inside the hearth. “I think PJ Sparkles got too close to the fire.”
Mellie shook her head. Her pigtails waggled…one near her ear, the other on top of her head. An admirable effort from Uncle Rem. At least he hadn’t used tape.
She pointed at him. “BJ was cold!”
“PJ,” he corrected.
“I like BJ!”
He winked at me, but I cautioned him with a wagging finger.
“Careful.”
Rem shrugged. “Show me a guy who wouldn’t like a BJ.”
I wasn’t getting sucked into that discussion. “You missed a spot.”
Rem stomped on another flickering ember. While he knelt, he examined the fireplace with a poker. “Cas, you know kids better than I do. Is this an accident or a sacrifice?”
He retrieved the melted plastic doll from the fireplace—hair singed away, cheeks charred, eyes a puddle of plastic. Mellie screamed in abject terror and bolted from the room. Tabby, delighted by the new game, mimicked and stormed off down the hall, chasing her sister with an equally shrill squeal.
“You might have some nightmares tonight.” I warned.
“Great.” He popped the horrific doll into the garbage and tapped a hand over the sandwich ring. “What’s this for?”
“They couldn’t write Sorry My Brother Is A Prick on a cake. Though the bakery did offer to condense the message into a rather convincing doodle.”
This gave Rem too much ammunition. He crossed his arms, the green flannel a forest dark against the chestnut of his eyes. He’d trimmed his hair too. Neat and tidy. Damn. Now he knew how sexy he looked. He’d use that to every advantage he could.
His smirk was a blend of playboy arrogance and smug satisfaction. “You were worried about me.”
I corrected him before he got too cocky. “I was worried about the kids.”
“Nah, that’s not it.” He swiped a dishrag from the sink and attempted to de-goo a puddle of dried orange juice from the counter. His eyes never left mine. “I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about me last night.”
I thought about him most nights. Last night was no different. “You know it. You’re just like a popcorn kernel stuck between my teeth.”
“You were lying awake all night because of me.”
“Yep. Like a mosquito bite on my ankle.”
“Bet you couldn’t sleep.”
“Know how your sock sometimes flips upside down in your shoe?” I took the dishrag from him and tackled another speck of unidentifiable sticky that had dripped down his counters. “You’re that. Except there’s also a splinter in the toe.”
He leaned a little closer, his voice low. “Bet you wished you could have called me.”
“Yeah, I wanted you as much as I wanted a never-ending case of the hiccups.”
“Bet you wished I’d called you.”
My chest tightened. “No way. You’d be the reason my phone dies at fifteen percent.”
Too much. Too fast. Rem moved close, and I suffocated in his confidence, his pride. One second I couldn’t breathe, the next…this broken heart would flutter to life.
“What did you want me to say to you last night?” he whispered. “Tell me what I can say.”
Nothing.
There was nothing that would quell five years’ worth of rage, disappointment, and hurt.
And this tingling mess of emotions wasn’t helping. I shoved it down with a sigh, but a deep breath only fueled the confusion. His scent overwhelmed me—a blend of freshly cut wood and salty sweetness like freshly tapped maple. Just the sort of manliness that’d cling to pillows, sheets, and girls who stayed a little too long for their welcome.
I pushed him away with the prod of my finger. “I’m only here to drop off the sandwiches.”
“You know the way to a man’s heart, Cas.”
“Yeah. Now give me the roadmap out.”
“Probably vegetables.”
A bucket of sponges and rags rested on the coffee table. Rem had found a vacuum from the seventies and parked it near the entryway. I plucked the feather duster from Mellie as she pixy-pranced into the kitchen and used it to brush the dirt off Tabby. No dice. I picked the baby up and stared at the dark streaks over her pudgy cheeks.
“You weren’t a dirty blonde yesterday.” I held her out to Rem. “How’d she get so dirty?”
“The house has been empty for a long time.” He took her from me with a wince. “I’m not sure if she’s a baby or a dust bunny.”
“Just don’t toss her in the garbage.”
“Maybe she’d cry less in there?” He looked in her eyes. Her little lip pouted as she shared his furrowed expression. “Maybe I could just put the top on and muffle the sound. Then we’d be quiet again, huh Tabby?”
“No!” She patted his cheeks. It appeared to be her favorite word. She giggled as she said it, her face lighting up then going grumpy in an instant for appropriate drama. “No!”
The cabin was still standing, but dirt was the glue holding it together. I brushed the duster along the curtains near the window. A plume of dust puffed over Mellie as she rushed to my side, hopped on one foot, and doodled a smiling face into the grime of the glass.
“Rem, I think you need a good spring…summer cleaning,” I said. “Your cobwebs are growing cobwebs.”
“A little mess is healthy.”
“Yeah, but I could grow Jules’ planned allotment of corn in the dirt by the entryway.” I dusted a bit harder, brushing a year’s worth of fuzz and debris from the window sill and wooden planked walls. “Do you need help with this? It’s a big job.”
“I thought you were just delivering some sandwichs.”
Mellie twirled in the golden sparkles drifting through the patch of sun. Then she sneezed.
“Pass me the broom,” I said.
“Now Cassia Payne…” He handed over the broom with a low hum. “If you aren’t here to let me win your heart…you must be avoiding the farm.”
The broom’s stiff bristles scoured the wooden floor. It felt good. I pitched the pillows and cushions from my path and swept my irritation into the dust pan.
“Jules was out of line yesterday,” I said. “He shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
Rem shrugged. Did the rest of him ripple too? How much muscle had this lumberjack packed on while away in the woods?
“He wasn’t wrong.”
I could still be embarrassed for my
brother. “It wasn’t right to say it. And he knows it. He’d apologize—”
“Jules will never apologize. And that’s fine. I’m not looking to earn any respect. I’m only in town to watch the kids.”
Nothing had ever sounded so bizarre from Rem. When he’d left, he was a bastard. A heartless man who I couldn’t believe had hurt my family so badly.
Now?
He’d returned from across the continent to take care of his nieces.
What had happened to him out in the wilderness?
“Jules took Dad’s death hard…” I stopped. That wasn’t right. “Everyone took Dad’s death hard. Jules especially, since he’s the executor of the estate. Marius is guilty because he was overseas when it’d happened. Tidus has all these issues now—he’d said some really terrible things to Dad before he died. Hadn’t even come home for three years. Varius…well, after he lost his faith, he lost interest in everything. Hasn’t been the same since he quit the ministry. And Quint is trying to keep it together, but he hates it here the most.”
Rem offered me a beer. I declined, but he popped off two caps anyway. “And now that the perfect storm of Payne is all gathered in one farmhouse?”
“It’s chaos. They’re fighting. Constantly. All of them. Jules and Quint. Tidus and Dad’s ghost. Varius and everyone. Marius hasn’t even called from Afganikoreapakiindonesiastan or wherever his classified post is now. Quint is just making it worse for the fun of it. Every day someone is screaming or punching a wall. It’s not right.” I stabbed the floor with the broom. “We’re supposed to be mourning.”
“What about you? How are you doing?”
A lot of people had asked me that. Rem’s question felt like the only one that wasn’t a platitude, and I hated how it twisted inside me.
“I’m done.” I punctuated the words with a sweep out the door and onto the porch. Mellie followed, brushing her own pile of invisible dirt with a magazine. “I spent last year taking care of Dad. I lived at home, gave up a teaching opportunity in Ironfield. But I had to do it. He was practically bed bound by the end, legs too swollen to walk or do much. And where were my brothers?” I extended my arms. “Nowhere to be seen. None of them could deal with what was happening to Dad. After Mom died, and after the fighting started, none of them could stand to be in the same room with each other. Everything went to hell.”
