by Lexi Blake
God, they weren’t kids anymore and this wasn’t something she could put a bandage on and fix with a Popsicle.
It struck her in that moment that their childhood was over. It had died on that rain-slick road and she could never get it back. It would remain in her memory, but she was an adult now. She had to acknowledge that some wounds couldn’t be healed. They could scar over and the wounded would move on, but the injured would never be whole again. That was the real world.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Ginny was crying, too.
Brittany didn’t try to stop the tears that flowed freely. She wept for more than Jacob. She cried for Ginny and the baby who would never know its dad. She cried for Marcus and she sobbed for herself and her lost youth. She didn’t hold back. She didn’t have to. This was her best friend, her person. They never lied or held back. Not around each other. “I think it’s okay to cry. I think something like this deserves a few tears, don’t you? You don’t have to be strong. You’re with me. We tell each other everything. We’ll get through this.”
Ginny seemed to still, and for a second Brittany worried she’d said something wrong. Then Ginny nodded. “Yes, we’ll get through it together. Just like we always do.”
Brittany held her best friend’s hand and prayed that she was right.
* * * *
Dillon tipped back a beer and thought about the fact that he should really be feeling guilty. It wasn’t like he was a man with no conscience. He was from an Irish family. A deep sense of guilt had been bred into him, but he couldn’t seem to dredge it up now. He’d run a man out of town. It had been a little like something out of a Western. Hector Alvarez might not wear a black hat, but there was no question the son of a bitch was a bad guy.
His hand curled around the mug as he thought about the moment he’d seen Hector’s meaty hand strike Joanne’s delicate body. It was sure to leave bruises, but then she was awfully good at covering those up. She’d had plenty of practice.
“Careful there, son. You’re going to break the glass if you squeeze any harder.” Aiden Murphy stared at Dillon. His father’s eyes were narrowed in that way that let him know he better put on his poker face. His father knew him far too well not to poke around if he thought something was really wrong.
What he’d done to Hector was going to his grave with him. He sighed and sat back. “Sorry. I’m a little tense, Pops. Rough day.”
His father stared at him just long enough to make Dillon worry before going back to cleaning glasses. It was a habit with his dad. When things were slow, he wiped down the barware. “It was a rough day for the whole town. It’s not right to have a funeral for a kid. It’s just not right. It goes against the way the world should be. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children.”
Dillon reached out and pressed his palm over his father’s arm. He knew what his old man was worried about. Jacob Salt’s death had brought up all kinds of anxieties for his parents. His mom was probably feeling the same thing. “Logan is fine, Pops. Don’t worry. He’s going to come home and we’re going to throw the biggest party this town has ever seen.”
His younger brother was serving his country in Afghanistan and had been for years. Since the day he’d joined up, they’d all been waiting for the moment when he would come home. After several tours, he’d finally written he was ready to head home. There was a picture of Logan looking resplendent and young in his dress uniform sitting in a place of honor over the bar along with all the other Storm sons and daughters who served. More than one of those pictures was the last taken of the young person it represented.
Jacob Salt had just been on his way home from college and he’d died. Logan was on active duty in one of the most dangerous places on earth. His dad was probably scared out of his mind.
“Keep telling me that, son. I already have the menu planned for his homecoming. All his favorite foods and definitely more beer than this town has seen.” His father patted his arm and went back to work. “I just wish one of you had decided to do something safe with your life. But oh no, not the Murphy boys. They have to go and save the world. I worry about the lot of you every single day.”
There was a little smile on his dad’s face that let Dillon know he wouldn’t have it any other way. Despite his parents’ worries, both he and Logan knew they were proud. “I will. When Logan gets home, the beer will be flowing. By then, this town will need something good.”
“That it will.” His dad took an order and filled another glass, sending it down the bar before coming back to Dillon. “On that note, I talked to Marylee Rush today. She came up to me during the reception.”
It was quiet in Murphy’s now with only a few people still sitting in booths and drinking beer or wine, but only an hour before the place had been packed with people. The back room had been turned into a buffet, and for several hours after the funeral everyone had commiserated over Jell-O molds and brisket and coffee cakes.
“Really? What did she have to say?” The Rush matriarch was actually quite friendly with the Murphys. Dillon had always suspected it was odd for her to be so affectionate toward the riffraff, but Marylee was good at playing the kind lady of the manor. Of course, she was also the senator’s mother and she ran things with a tight fist. Marylee could smile all day, but Dillon knew there were sharp teeth hidden somewhere.
“She just wants to get together next week. The Founders’ Day celebration is coming up. She doesn’t want to let good planning time get away. We’re going to get together at the Bluebonnet for breakfast on Monday and start preparing. She’s inviting a bunch of people to form the committee. She’s already got a list started. You know that woman loves her lists.”
Dillon raised an eyebrow. “Should we still have that? Considering what’s happened?”
His dad waved a hand. “It’s what we need. The Founders’ Day celebration has been a town staple for generations. Normalcy is needed at times like this. Trust me. I know. This town needs to come together. Marylee knows that. She wants to make it the biggest one yet. It will give us all something to focus on.”
Somehow he thought Marylee was likely more interested in supporting her son’s reelection bid than she was in bringing the town together after a tragedy. Oh, she would do that, too, but that woman was laser focused on her son. She always had been. Sebastian Rush was Marylee’s grand work in life and she never let anyone forget it. Still, his father had a point. “Let me know how I can help. You’re right. We do need something to focus on.”
The Murphys had always done the legwork for the celebration. They brought the beer and ran the picnic grounds. It was a tradition. No one knew how to throw a party like his pops. His grandfather claimed it was the Irish in them. The knowledge was in their DNA, he would tell Dillon.
His dad frowned and turned. “Oh, there’s trouble. I thought she’d gone home. Poor girl.”
Dillon followed his father’s line of sight and then he couldn’t breathe. Joanne Grossman Alvarez walked into the bar, her fair skin picking up the light from the neon signs. She always seemed so delicate to him. Even back when they’d been in school, she’d seemed fragile. He knew it wasn’t true. Joanne could take a beating. She’d been forced to more times than he liked to think, but that was over now.
What was she doing here?
His heart skipped a beat and not just because she was so lovely. She knew. She knew Hector was gone. It was stamped on her face. There was a worried look to her brow and she glanced around the bar as though looking for someone.
She was looking for her husband.
How many times did he have to get kicked? How many times did he have to see the proof of her love for that jackass? She’d chosen Hector before. She’d chosen him when it cost her everything. She’d given up her family for that man.
He stubbornly sat in place, watching her as she moved through the bar. He’d done the right thing. He wouldn’t take it back. Not for anything in the world. If he’d let Hector stay, Joanne was going to end up in
a pine box. One day Hector was going to hit her just a little too hard or send her falling down in just the right way and there would be no more of her gentle soul in this world.
No. Let her cry over her lost love. It was better than her being dead.
“Hi,” she said as she finally approached him. “You haven’t happened to see Dakota, have you?”
Her daughter. Relief swept through him. She was looking for her daughter. “No. I haven’t seen her all day.”
His father leaned forward. “She left here about an hour ago. She seemed very distraught, but who can blame her? Can I get you something, sweetheart? On the house. You look like you could use a drink.”
She sniffled a little and then hopped up on the barstool. “I would love a cup of coffee. It looks like I might need it.”
“Coming right up.” His dad walked back to the coffee maker.
“What’s up with Dakota? Why do you think she would come back here after the reception? She’s not twenty-one. Pops keeps a list of Storm’s kids and their birthdays. No one is getting past him.”
“Well, my daughter isn’t known for following the rules.”
“What happened?” He had a suspicion. Dakota was Daddy’s Little Girl. She had been since the moment she’d been born. Dillon had never been able to figure out why Hector would treat his daughter like a princess and his wife like a punching bag.
She took a moment, as though she had to brace herself. Dillon thought she might lie, might give him that half smile of hers and tell him nothing was wrong, but there were tears in her eyes as she turned to him. “Hector left.”
There it was again—that punched in the gut feeling. He’d done the right thing, he told himself. “What do you mean?”
“I went home after the reception and all his things were gone. He cleaned out his closet,” she said, her voice shaky.
He ached for her, but he was resolute that he was doing the right thing. “I saw his car earlier today. He looked like he was headed out of town.”
It wasn’t a lie. Dillon had followed him all the way to San Antonio before he’d been satisfied the man was going to mind his manners. It was that or get thrown in jail. Or worse. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d threatened the man’s life, but he’d had no choice. He’d learned long ago that a man did what he had to do to protect those he loved.
Even when they didn’t love him back.
“You saw him? Well, I guess that was to be expected. I mean that someone saw him. He was alone?” Her jaw was tense as she asked the question, as though she was bracing for a blow.
It occurred to Dillon that a nice lie would help ease the way for Joanne. If she thought her husband had left with another woman, maybe she would let go more easily. “As far as I could tell. I didn’t see anyone in the car with him.”
He’d lied to her enough. She didn’t need the added humiliation.
“I don’t understand it.”
“Here you go.” His father slid a mug of coffee in front of her along with two sugar packets and a little creamer. “I think that’s how you like it.”
She beamed at him, her smile dazzling. “Yes. It’s so sweet of you to remember, Mr. Murphy.”
His father winked and then stepped back, going to greet a new customer.
“I’ve always liked your father,” she said as she fixed the coffee just the way she liked it.
“He’s always had a soft spot for you, too.” As did nearly everyone in Storm, with the exception of the two men who should have protected her. Her husband and her own father. Robert Grossman had doted on his daughter until she’d made the mistake of running off with Hector.
She’d needed her father’s support and he’d disowned her. Yeah, Dillon didn’t like Robert any more than he did Hector.
“Dakota didn’t take her father’s leaving very well. I’m afraid she’s going to do something self-destructive. She’s not answering her cell phone and she’s not at her place. Her car isn’t parked in the lot or I would assume she’s just not answering. She does that from time to time.” She wrapped her hands around the mug as though she needed the warmth. “Only to me. Never to her father. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t even understand what’s happening. I walked into the house from Jacob’s funeral and all his stuff was gone.”
That must have been a major shock. “He wouldn’t be the first man to walk out without an explanation.”
She shook her head. “I understand that. It just doesn’t make sense. His job seemed to be going well. He was angry a lot, but he had his reasons. I guess I always knew he could get sick of me, but I thought he loved the children.”
His heart ached for her. He wanted nothing more than to put his hand over hers and tell her everything he felt, but now wasn’t the time. “You never know what’s going through another person’s head. He might have just had a mid-life crisis. I’ve known a couple of men who left their families just because they thought there was something better out there.”
She winced. “Well, I’m sure he thought that from time to time.”
He was not handling this well. He finally had her alone and he was fumbling badly. “I’m not saying there actually is something better. I’m just saying some men can’t be pleased. They don’t know a good thing when it’s right in their hands. How can I help you?”
She took a long drink of the coffee and shook her head. “You can’t. I suppose if you see my daughter, you might give me a call. She did something stupid tonight. She’s very emotional. Dakota’s never had to deal with real tragedy and she’s been hit with two in the course of a week.”
“She was close to Jacob?” It seemed like the entire town was feeling his loss.
“Not as close as she wanted to be. I think she had a crush on him. He was handsome and smart. More than that, he was going to leave this town and I think that’s what Dakota wants more than anything in the world. I love my daughter, but I also know her. I know what she’s capable of. She’s got a good heart, but her father made her believe she was entitled to anything she wants. I happen to know what happens when the rug gets pulled out from under you. You fall and hard. I wasn’t ready for it when my father turned me away. Dakota is even less ready than I was.”
“I could drive you around. We could look for her together.” He hadn’t had more than a few sips of his beer. He would feel better if he could help her in some small way.
She shook her head. “No, I need to get home. I suppose she needs some time to herself. I’m fairly certain I’m the last person she wants to see. Besides, I need to call my son. Marcus should know his father’s gone.”
Marcus, Joanne’s only son, had left town the minute he could. One more man who should have watched out for her––gone.
He reached and put his hand over hers, the touch almost electric. The connection he felt to this woman sizzled along his skin.
She gasped a little, but didn’t pull back. She looked up, her eyes catching on his.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you, Joanne. You’re not alone. Not even close. All you need to do is pick up a phone or knock on my door and I’ll be there. I’ll get you through this.” After all, he was the reason Hector had left in the first place. And he wasn’t a man who ran out on his responsibilities.
She nodded, her hand sliding away from his. “I should go. If you see my daughter, just try to take care of her. She’s hurting.”
Dakota wasn’t the only one. Joanne slid off of her barstool and started for the door.
God, he wanted to chase after her, but he had to give her time.
But one day soon he would be the one she could count on. And he would never let her down.
He pushed back his mug.
“You don’t want the rest of that, son?” his father asked.
He shook his head. “No, I’ve got one last thing to do before I call it a night.”
He headed out to find Joanne’s brat of a daughter so Jo could sleep tonight.
Chapter Three
> Sebastian looked around the bar. It was a dank hole-in-the-wall in an unincorporated part of the county, but it wasn’t like he could go to Murphy’s Pub to find a little tail. That was the problem with being back in Storm for the summer. It was so much easier in Austin. The bars and the clubs were numerous and the hookups they offered were anonymous. It was perfect for a man like him.
Here he had to wonder who was watching.
He took a swig of the bar’s prime offering. White Lightning. It tasted a little like hell, but it offered an almost immediate buzz. Most moonshine did. He was a man of elegant tastes but sometimes the cheap stuff did the job.
His phone buzzed and he looked down, sighing as he did. His mother. It was the one call he couldn’t avoid. She would just keep up. He flicked his hand over the accept call button. “Hello, Mother.”
“Sebastian, you’re not at home. Payton thought you might be in your office, but I checked there.”
She lived in the guesthouse. It was not his optimal living situation. Again, he longed for his bachelor pad in Austin. He had a glorious view of the river and city at night. In Storm, his mother seemed to be three steps away at any given moment. “I worked all day. I decided to grab a bite.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re out getting a nutritious meal. Try to remember that there are eyes on you everywhere in this town, Sebastian.”
Which was precisely why he’d left town. He wasn’t far, but he figured after the funeral and reception most Storm citizens wouldn’t be hanging around a dive bar. “I’ll be fine, Mother. Is there a reason you called except to harangue me?”
She sighed, a long-suffering sound. “I wanted to make sure you knew I’m putting together a little welcome for the Founders’ Day celebration committee and I want you to make an appearance.”
