24. Cody
Cody
A few days later
Colt: Why did you send Tee a ‘Dear John’ letter?
T he text has been driving me crazy since I received it.
She told Zee and Zee made Colt text me. I see the writing in the sky—only a dumbass wouldn’t try to fix the situation when Zee and Tee are like sisters.
Happy wife, happy life.
“I wish I could have some of that,” I mutter to myself as I slump behind the wheel and drift down Main Street toward the detachment.
Of course, that admission makes my stomach twist.
Happy wife?
I grit my teeth and shove the thought aside. Like I’ve been doing all week.
I knew confessing would be an unmitigated disaster, but it’s so much worse than I thought. Work, while not as high-pressure as I’d prefer it, has helped.
Some.
When he calls for the millionth time, I suck it up despite being close to the station and answer, “What?”
“You just going to ignore me?”
“No.”
“Well? What the fuck is going on with you, Cody?”
I pull up outside the bakery and stare straight ahead.
“I know you’re there.”
“No shit.” I close tired eyes. “I can’t answer that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t understand. You can’t.”
“Did you hear her playing the violin last night? At 3 AM?”
“I didn’t. I’ve been sleeping at the detachment.”
“You’re such a moron.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Look, she’s upset, Zee’s upset, everyone’s fucking upset. Have you apologized to her?”
An apology—what’s an ‘I’m sorry’ supposed to fix when I broke her heart?
Sure, I’ve been trying. The blue chalcedony teardrop. A jar of her favorite coffee, overnighted from one of the bespoke coffee shops she liked in NYC, a coffee shop that does not do deliveries, appearing in the kitchen cabinet…
But it’s not enough.
I can’t buy my way out of this.
Now would be a great time to know a bruja.
“Cody? Jesus Christ. Talk to me. A ‘Dear John’ isn’t like you. Even in school, you wouldn’t be so insensitive. This is the opposite of who you are. It’s out of character?—”
“When I wrote it,” I seethe, “I was in a hospital bed, not knowing if?—”
“You were in the hospital?” His bewilderment is clear. “But she only just received it!”
“I know.” I huff out a bitter laugh. “Our letters always took a while to be delivered. How typical is it that it’d take months for that one to arrive when we’re on the same goddamn continent?”
“What happened? I thought you just hurt your leg in a car crash.”
I take a sip of coffee that went cold a long time ago as I think about the lies I told him when I came home—a car accident, not an aerial collision. Broken tibia-fibula. No mention of conversion disorder. The coma. The shrapnel in my lung…
“I was involved in a plane crash. It fucked me up. Broke my leg, then when I was in the ward, I fell out of bed and shattered my other knee. I was a mess.” I toy with the tumbler before clearing my throat. “What you don’t know, what only Clyde knows because he used to be my emergency contact… there was a time when they thought my arm was paralyzed.”
“What?! I thought you were retiring?—”
“I’d been looking into it, but?—”
“You lied to me!”
“Yes,” I say on a hiss. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I already have to discuss this shit with a therapist. But I’m not the only one hiding stuff. This crap about the refuge, the weed, and then the MC? We’re both as guilty as each other.”
“Wait a minute, you’re seeing a therapist?”
“You going to start singing soprano?”
“Fuck off, Cody. You’d be shocked too if you learned your brother had been lying to you for months.”
“You’d be screwed too if Pops had been whispering shit in your ear about how you’re defective and useless and that your only worth to the family was as a fighter pilot.” I bite off a laugh. “Sitting here, I know it’s bullshit. I know there’s more to my worth than that. But back then, stuck in that bed, months of convalescence ahead of me… it wasn’t so simple.”
“That’s when you wrote her the letter, isn’t it?” he rasps. “Of course it is. That fucker. He has to wreck everything. God damn him.”
“Yeah. But in this instance, it’s on me. I sent it. I could have sat on it, but no. I had to send it. I didn’t want to… I just wanted to give her closure. I never imagined it’d take so fucking long for her to receive it.
“When I think of how worried she must have been… I messed up. That’s on me. I know it.
“I let his bullshit fuck with my mind. I was angry all the time, so fucking furious and lost. I-I got stuck on the fact I might be like him and wanted to protect her from that?—”
“You’re nothing like him. None of us are.”
“I know that now. But back then, not so much.”
Colt’s silence is seething before he bites out, “What are you going to do to fix your fuckup?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to try though, aren’t you? To fix things?”
“You know how you feel when you look at Zee? When the family fades away because you’re lost in each other? Doesn’t matter if it’s in The Coffee Shop or at the dinner table, you don’t see anyone else?”
He sighs. “That’s how you feel about her, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I work my jaw. “I’ll make things right. I’ll earn back her trust because I’m not that man, and even if she won’t have me as anything other than a friend, I’ll take it.”
Silence settles between us, then he rasps, “You really thought we’d give a fuck that you couldn’t be a pilot anymore?”
“Clyde has a way of getting into your head.”
“I should beat the crap out of you for that alone. What’s with the arm? It’s not paralyzed now.”
I hunch my shoulders. “It’s complicated. It was a mind thing, less of a body thing.”
“Like PTSD?”
“No. Colt, I admit I’ve lied to you, but I don’t want to anymore. If anything good can come out of this, maybe it’s that? I’ve missed you. For a long while. And I know this is on me.
“The CAF swallowed me whole, and I never let you learn this version of me. I’d like that to change.”
“Me too, brother,” he says instantly, filling me with relief. “But you have to figure out how to make shit right. You hurt her. That hurts Zee. And I’m not about to stand for that. Then there’s the fact that bringing in her new amethyst cathedral fucked up my back. That’s your job?—”
“Amethyst cathedral?”
“She had one delivered today. Massive geode. You know the type. Apparently it’ll ‘enhance her intuition.’ Something she needs because of you. So, I was thinking we could develop a plan of action together?”
“To spare your back?”
“And your feelings.”
My lips quirk—I can’t imagine why she wants to enhance her intuition. “Sounds neat.”
“It does. When you get home, we can maybe go for a ride?”
“Sounds even better. I skipped the last couple days with Callan.”
“I know. I appreciate you opening up to him. He needs us, bro.”
“I get it.” When my radio squawks, I clear my throat. “I still have the better half of my shift to get through. I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah.”
As the call ends, it’s not like a load off because the guilt is still eating me whole, but at least more of my secrets are out in the open.
Mike’ll be fucking proud if nothing else.
Setting off, I aim the truck for the detachment, where I find Sergeant Reilly in the parking lot, barking at someone on the phone.
The Mountie may be undergoing an internal investigation, but he has no self-preservation skills. He’s made his distaste for the marshal service known, and the dumbass doesn’t think that appears in any way crooked.
More checks and balances are only ever a bad thing if you’re on the take.
He sneers at me. I ignore him and stroll inside, where a third of my staff are on shift.
“Chief,” they greet in a mismatched chorus.
I amble over to the whiteboard that houses the list of investigations we’re handling as Marty, my second-in-command, passes me a coffee.
“Any updates?” I motion at the board. “Particularly about the Our Lady of Sorrows situation?”
“The faculty at the school said they confiscated the drugs and have held the student outside of the principal’s office. You ready to go?”
Shaking my head, I stare at the meager information we have.
Considering what I know about the Rabid Wolves and their presence in my town, it doesn’t take much of a leap to figure out they’re the reason for the influx of weed that’s somehow made it into our corner of Saskatchewan.
The problem is the kids are buying it at the boarding school, and while it’s an issue if any underage kid smokes illegally obtained marijuana, it’s more of a disaster when one of the kids caught with a doobie is Saskatchewan’s premier’s spawn.
“This whole thing is a building cluster headache,” I grouse.
“You’d think that making it legal, we’d have fewer problems,” he agrees, tapping the case file.
“Do we know the name of the kid who was dealing?”
“James Fairweather.”
“Fairweather as in Fairweather Tires?” At his nod, I grimace. This is going to be an interminable day. “So, he’ll have more lawyers than we have deputies.”
“Probably.”
“Shit. I know it’s terrible, but I was hoping it was one of the kids on scholarship.” It’d have made sense if it were Amy…
“Maybe they have the good sense to stay away from illegal narcotics.”
“How novel,” I grumble. “Come on. We’ll go to the school and deal with the Fairweather brat.” Before I place my coffee mug down, I call out, “Anyone have anything else for me?”
“Elena Frobisher was found wandering around The General Store in her nightgown,” Katy Crocker informs me, her gaze gentle because she knows of my connection to the Frobisher family.
“Shit! Is she all right?”
“Pretty advanced Alzheimer’s for a woman her age. We said you’d run her back to the Frobishers’ place.”
“Of course. Jesus.” Hell, it’s been too long since I was there anyway.
But, fuck.
Bast never said shit about his mom having Alzheimer’s!
“Okay, we’d better get a move on,” I direct at Marty, who’s eyeing me cautiously.
The bitch of being in a small town is this .
Everyone knows that Elena Frobisher is part of the reason I’m still goddamn sane.
Of course, more guilt hits me.
Not just because of Elena, but because of the reason it’s been too long since I went to the Frobishers’ place.
Dumping my coffee mug on the nearest desk, I leave, Marty on my heels.
When we make it to the patrol car, both of us are quiet as we ride over to The General Store.
“How bad is it?”
Marty fiddles with his cuffs. The metallic clank is annoying, but I understand his discomfort so I tune it out. “She’s been deteriorating for a while, but the Frobishers have no idea how she gets into town. She shows up some days.
“One time, earlier this summer, she was only wearing underwear. Jill Hutchinson from the RCMP dropped by to loop us in when she heard about Elena.”
“Elena has to be walking into town. That’s the only logical answer.”
“Maybe. It’s a hell of a long walk, and John says he doesn’t want to lock her windows because she isn’t in jail.”
“He always was a stubborn bastard.”
“You haven’t seen him since you got back?”
I can tell he’s edging for more information, gossip , so I shut him down. “No.”
“Thought you and Bast were close in high school.”
I shoot him a disbelieving look. “If you’re fishing for gossip, Marty, then you’re sniffing around the wrong tree.”
Though his cheeks flush and he apologizes, I don’t accept.
This town is like one big soap opera. It’s fueled on the Seven Cs, the Rock Eagle casino, and gossip.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Marty mumbles. “I just thought I could help.”
That has me sighing. “We used to be close,” I confide when we’re a few hundred yards away from the store. “Then Samantha happened.”
“Samantha, his ex?”
“Yes.”
“Ohhhh. You’re the reason they split up?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. I warned him that he was making a mistake. He’s been pissed with me ever since because I was right.”
Marty whistles. “Funny. They said Theo and your brother had a falling out over a woman too.”
“Zee?”
“Nah, some city girl from Saskatoon.”
“Doubtful. Colt hasn’t been serious about anyone since… ever .”
“Fine line between love and hate.”
Unwilling to feed the gossip mill any more than I already have, I drawl, “Never heard that one before, Marty.”
His grin’s sheepish. “You want me to come into the store with you? She’s not always lucid. The reason she was there is... she still thinks you work at the store. Jill said it’s where she goes when she escapes the ranch.”
I grit my teeth as bittersweet sorrow fills me.
“Nobody told me she was...”
“You know how the Frobishers get.”
I do. Better than most. Obstinate should have been a part of their family motto.
Unable to brace myself because I know this is bound to hurt, I enter the store and find her sitting by the door.
I also see Tee.
Which makes this day so much fucking better. Not.
But there’s no pained distaste in her expression—no, if anything, there’s relief.
Crouched in front of Elena, who’s a hair’s breadth from a panic attack, Tee’s trying to soothe her but it isn’t working. Elena’s eyes are wild and she’s banging her fists onto her knees, yelling, “I want to see Cody! That bastard hit him last night. I need to tend to his bruises. He’s refusing to visit the doctor’s?—”
Tee gasps at Elena’s words, and the rest of the store pivots their attention off Elena and onto me.
One other thing I forgot about Pigeon Creek—sure, it’s forged on gossip, but there are ten people in this store and not a single one of them is here to feed the rumor mill. They’re here because they care. But that’s ten people who just heard Elena spill one of my secrets. Dammit to hell.
Mary, the wife of the owner, scuttles to my side. “She’s been getting...” A breath gusts from her. “We can’t calm her down, marshal.”
I can see that for myself.
“I think he broke his orbital bone,” Elena cries. “Why is nobody helping me find him? Did he run away? I wouldn’t blame him.”
“Elena, I’m here,” I call out, bypassing Mary’s concern as I stride over to the woman who patched me up too many times to count.
Colt thinks he took the brunt of the beatings and he’s not wrong. But I took my fair share—especially after Mum left, Colt went to college, and Cole stopped holding his tongue.
Elena rears back at my words. “You’re not my Cody.”
Tee hums, and though I usually enjoy her little forays into music, right now I want peace.
Except, Elena, who’s getting more riled up by my presence than before, immediately sags. Her hands come up to cup her face and she starts weeping.
Those tears gut me.
“Would you look at that?” one of the customers whispers. “She always was clever with music.”
I notice Tee’s gently stroking Elena’s hair back from her face.
“It’s me, Elena. But I got a different job.”
“Y-You don’t sound like him. Y-You sound like...” A gasp escapes her and her hand drops from her face. “You sound like Clay. My Clay.”
My mouth forms an imperfect circle. Tee freezes and stops humming, but that only leads to Elena banging her fists on her knees again. “Where’s Clay? He’ll fix this. I know he’s not dead. Not really. That bastard took him from me.” Her weeping shifts into howling sobs that speak of a grief greater than a neighbor should feel for another.
I frown at the dirty secrets Elena’s inadvertently spilled in the five minutes since I showed up and can only imagine what she’s shared since her health deteriorated.
“Did anyone call the Frobishers?” I demand.
“We tried, but there was no answer.”
Like someone pressed a switch, Elena stops wailing. “I saw to that. They’re trying to imprison me in that house, Cody. Why aren’t you stopping them?” Her hands grab mine, nails digging in, the tips biting into me. “You’re supposed to love me. Why aren’t you keeping them from hurting me?”
Mary dips down to whisper, “They’re not.”
It’s soft enough Elena can’t hear since she’s back to crying. “But if they try so much as to shut her door, she gets worse and says the most horrible things about them.”
Considering how much they love their mom, I can’t imagine how badly that must hurt.
“Thanks, Mary.”
She pats my shoulder. “Tell them if there’s anything we can do, we’ll be right over.”
The generous offer makes me even more aware of where I lack.
I clear my throat. “Elena, I need you to look at my eye. But I don’t want everyone to know what Clyde did.” That triggers muttering, but it’s not exactly news that Clyde was a bastard.
“Oh, my boy. Of course.”
Happy now that she’s gotten her way, the switch having been pushed again that makes her immediately calm, we head out, and I realize Tee’s following along, as are the other customers.
Marty’s standing by the back of the car, the door open, and gently, I guide Elena over to it and help her inside.
“Tee, would you come with us? Your humming seemed to help her.”
“Of course,” she agrees, moving around the trunk to climb in beside Elena, hefting a bulky tote onto her shoulder that bulges at the sides.
Mary’s apparently the official spokesperson of the crowd at the store because she adds, “Harry wanted me to tell you that she’s gotten worse since Blanche fell down the stairs.”
Blanche is Bast’s grandmother.
“Is she okay?”
“Bedridden.”
“Jesus, they’ve really been hammered this year, haven’t they?”
She nods. “Blanche was her primary caregiver.”
“She’s in her eighties!”
“Times have been tough, Cody.” She taps my forearm. “They couldn’t afford a nurse.”
My mouth tightens at the silent prompt. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“They’re a stubborn bunch. That damn fool husband of hers, prouder than a peacock and with less sense, outright turned away the nurse your brother tried to hire.
“This can’t go on. She’s deteriorated so much this past year. Anything could happen to her. Especially with those damn bikers roaming around. If she is walking from their ranch and into town, then who knows who could pick her up along the way!”
“Yeah,” I admit gruffly, wishing I could alleviate her fears, but I can’t.
It’s not like the Rabid Wolves are known for being kind to the vulnerable.
“I’d better get her home.”
Mary dips her chin, and I wave at the gathered customers, who watch us as we set off.
Elena chatters to herself, mumbling and whispering, but she isn’t agitated.
“Your nonna was friends with Blanche, wasn’t she?” I ask, studying Tee in the rearview mirror.
“Was? Is ,” Tee corrects, all without looking at me. Fuck. “They’re the remaining few of the old guard. Most of the men of their generation have passed.”
“Has she said anything about Blanche’s injuries?”
“Only that she’s not doing so well being bedridden. But who would be?”
There’s no denying that. Hell, I fucking hated being trapped on a mattress and I was only there for a short time.
Halfway through the ride, Elena’s whispers become shouts, and Tee immediately picks up on her humming and instantly, it soothes Elena.
I share a look with her in the rearview mirror, not only grateful for her presence but that she actually catches my eye as I ask, “Do you have any music they could use? Maybe your songs would soothe her.” I know they soothe me.
She nods and goes so far as to take Elena into her arms when Elena slumps against her.
I grit my teeth at the sight, not wanting to admit to myself how precious these two women in the back of my cruiser are when I’ve treated them worse than anyone.
Finally, we make it to the Frobishers and find chaos.
All the trucks are out in the front of the house and the tires have been slashed.
Though the family appears to be in the process of changing them, I can’t imagine they have that many spares.
When we pull up a couple feet away, Bast runs over to us, yelling, “You have to help us find Mom!”
“She’s in the back of the vehicle,” I inform him, aware that those are the first words we’ve spoken to one another in too long.
His relief is instantaneous and visible—more than I’m used to with my stoic bullshitter of a best friend. Dragging open the back door, he drops to a crouch beside the seat. “Mom, are you all right?”
She breaks his grip when he holds her hands. “Get away from me. Cody, they’re trying to lock me up again! Stop them, please. They’re monsters!”
Her sobs hurt like well-aimed knives being stabbed into my abdomen, but that’s nothing to Bast, whose eyes clench closed as if she sucker punched him.
“Everything’s okay, Elena,” I appease, but it doesn’t work.
“You’re just as bad,” she wails. “You all want to lock me up!”
Bast spins on his toes and hollers, “Jamie, go and get her pills!”
Jamie, who’d dumped the tools he was working with when Bast dropped to his knees, takes an edgy step back before he rushes into the house.
“Now they want to drug me!”
Tee snags a firm hold of Elena’s shoulders, catches her eye, and sings a lilting tune that’s half-fisherman’s ballad and half-Viking saga.
Elena jolts back in surprise but her mouth works. Then, Tee repeats a line of the lyrics twice, and the third time, Elena sings it too.
Her expression, while not lucid, is far better than it was before. That wildness in her eyes fades as she and Tee sing along together.
When Jamie rushes to the car, he drops the bottle of pills in Bast’s hand.
But it’s Tee, though she continues with the song, who holds out her fingers for the bottle.
“I need one of these for a terrible headache, Mrs. Frobisher,” she excuses. “Can I have one?”
Bast goes to complain, but Jamie kicks him until he shuts up.
“They’re drugs, dear,” Elena whispers. “You can’t trust these boys. They’re terrible.”
I see Bast and Jamie freeze at her words, but Tee holds out her hand for the water Jamie’s also holding.
“No, see, Mrs. Frobisher? It’s headache medicine. I don’t know about you, but on these hot days, I always get a headache. Don’t you?”
Elena blinks at her, then her fingers drift to her temple. “You’re right, dear. I-I do have quite a headache.”
Tee pops the bottle, scans the front of it, and retrieves two. “One for you and one for me,” she offers, palm outstretched
Elena hesitantly selects a pill, but she watches Tee like a hawk.
“Is this wise?” I hiss in Bast’s ear.
“No,” he grunts.
Dammit.
Tee pops the pill into her mouth like she’s not about to swallow what could be poison to her, then she takes a swig of water and gulps.
“There. Twenty minutes and it’ll be all better. Take yours now, Mrs. Frobisher. Then we can sing again.”
But Elena’s wise to these tricks. As a nurse by profession, I figure it makes sense that she would be.
“Pop your tongue, dear. Let me make sure you’ve taken your medication.”
Tee shoots me the swiftest of glances before she opens her mouth.
Whatever she doesn’t see has Elena humming happily and popping the tablet too.
Then, Tee sings that same ditty, and slowly, gradually, eventually, Elena sags against the backseat.
She’s not asleep but she’s...
“God, I hate these meds,” Bast rumbles, the despair in his voice hitting me on the raw.
“You should have told me she was this bad,” I rasp, as bleak as he is.
“You were fighting a war, Code. What good would it have done, you being distracted?”
Considering how long I’ve been home, that’s a bullshit answer, but I let it go because it’s the first time he’s called me that in eighteen months.
“Where was she?” he asks as he straightens, stepping aside so that Jamie can swoop in and pick his mom up while Tee, gracefully, wipes her mouth with her hand.
I pass her a paper napkin from the glove compartment so she can drop the pill into it.
“Would you keep on singing until we get her to her room?” Jamie asks Tee.
“Of course,” she murmurs, and I watch her go, both grateful and a little lost, wishing I could go with her but knowing nothing’s changed between us.
“She was at The General Store,” I tell Bast. “Remember that day when I came here after Clyde beat the fuck out of me?”
“The one where he told you about the custody agreement? Or the day you told him you were enlisting?”
“Enlisting.”
He whistles. “Your face was a fucking mess that day.”
“She thought I still worked at the store.”
He scrubs his chin. “Since Grandma fell, shit’s gotten worse around here. Dad’s driving a fucking tractor to your place to be able to call out. Don’t ask me how, but she cut all our goddamn lines.
“One of us is almost always with her, apart from at night, but she takes drugs for sleeping so she should be safe on her own. Yet today, the household phone line was cut, as was the one in the office, and all our phones had been smashed to shit. I don’t know how she fucking does it.”
“You need help,” I insert.
His mouth works but he surprises me by nodding. “Either that or we’re going to have to put her in a home, and fuck, I don’t want to, Code. It’ll kill Dad.”
“Let me help, Bast. Please.”
Again, he surprises me by leaning on the car and sagging. “I don’t want to, but fuck if we don’t have a choice.”
“She always like that? Mean to you?”
“Y-Yeah.” His voice hitches. And I get it.
Elena was a wonderful mom. Kind and loving.
That life has made her this way isn’t fair.
“We had the social services around recently. She told her doctor we were mistreating her. Thankfully, that came to nothing, but we almost lost her anyway.”
“I’ll talk to the doc. See what he thinks we should do with her care.”
He swallows, aware what I’m offering even though I don’t say it out loud. “Thank you, Cody.”
“You don’t have to thank me. If I’d known... hell, I’d have come sooner. The last I heard she was organizing the music festival!”
“She did a great job too. But...”
“Shit went from bad to worse fast?”
“Yeah.” He rubs his brow. “She’ll like it if you visit more.”
“I’m welcome?”
His toe scuffs in the dirt-packed ground. “Meant it when I said I didn’t tell you because you were over fighting the fucking Russians. Didn’t want you distracted and coming home to us in a box. Might have been pissed at you, but I didn’t want that.”
“I’ve been home for ages.”
“Time slips away from you when...” Herubs the back of his neck. “I’m so fucking busy, man. We all are.”
“Does Theo know?”
“Of course he does. There’s no hiding how sick she is.”
I frown. “Why didn’t Colt offer to help then?”
“He did! Everyone thinks we’re too proud and stubborn to ask for help, but Theo’s the worst of us all?—”
“Perks of being the eldest,” I insert dryly.
“—then there’s Dad and a whole other level of prideful obstinacy. The only reason we paid last month’s mortgage was because Theo coughed up the dough for it, and I thought Dad was going to say no! That’s how bad things have become around here.
“It doesn’t help when we have to keep paying out for shit Mom intentionally breaks—four new phones? That’s the last kind of expense we need.” He rubs his eyes. “Thank fuck Theo works for you. He’s been covering for us a lot lately, and I don’t know how we’d have coped if he hadn’t.”
That Bast complimented his older brother tells me that the world is truly coming to a fucking end.
There’s a reason Theo is on our payroll—if he and his family had to work together for a day, they’d end up killing each other.
“Theo hasn’t told Colt how bad it’s…”
“Colt knows she’s sick. He sent over some home help, but how she was back then is nothing to now. She’s deteriorated real fast, Code. We’ve been trying to keep it under wraps.”
I think about the crowd at the store. “More people know than you realize.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Bast.” The last thing I want is for our reconciliation to end so quickly.
“I won’t shoot. Just tell me, Cody.”
“She said something about Uncle Clay...”
Bitterness is etched deep into his next words: “What they don’t tell you about Alzheimer’s is that the family secrets ain’t so secret anymore. I already heard all about the great love affair she had with Clay. More than a son needs to hear too.”
My eyes bug. “She wasn’t... making it up?”
“No. I wish. Nearly killed Dad. He couldn’t...” His throat bobs. “Found him in the barn a few weeks back, bottle of whiskey in one hand, shotgun in the other. Fuck knows what he was thinking.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“He’d never have hurt her,” Bast defends. “I-I think he...”
I hesitate. “Wanted to end it?”
His lips firm before he blurts out, “This great goddamn love affair is part of why Dad wouldn’t accept Colt’s help. Korhonen help. Korhonen money.”
I grimace. “I get it.”
“I doubt it. You’ve always been flush.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t… if I learned my wife had…” I shake my head. “I’d have to be desperate to take that man’s money, and technically, that’s how it happened since he was the eldest brother and we only inherited because he died.”
“I get it too, don’t mean I have to like it. It’s fucking shit around here, Code. Bad news after bad news. This is just the icing on the cake.” I clap a hand to his shoulder in commiseration, and he huffs out a broken chuckle. “Never figured that I’d get over my snit with you because my life’s gone to hell.”
“Whatever reason, I’m glad,” I admit.
“Samantha was a real bitch, wasn’t she?”
“You wanna talk about this now?”
“Not particularly.” He stretches his neck. “Just… should never have let a woman get between us.”
Damn straight, he shouldn’t. Not for a two-faced liar like ‘Sammy.’
I keep my expression blank like the saint I’m not. “I have many sins, Bast, but I’m loyal.”
“You are.” His mouth turns down at the corners, and I know that’s about as much as we’ll be discussing anything Sammy-related today. Thank fuck. “If you visit Mom ever, I need to warn you about something. Seeing as you’re the new marshal and all.”
My brow lifts at the abrupt shift in topic, but I chuckle when he elbows me in the side and whistles the theme tune to Brooklyn Nine-Nine . “What?”
“You can ignore it because it’s mostly her illness doing the talking, but she has this habit of taking the truth and bending it. Like this crap about us imprisoning her.
“Last week, we had a massive grain delivery and no one could watch her. She wouldn’t take her meds so we locked her door. We try not to, Cody, believe me. But we did. She takes that situation and makes it her own?—”
I angle my head to the side. “Why are you telling me this, Bast? I know you’d never do anything to hurt her.”
“It’s not about her this time.” Studying his boots, he draws his hat off his head and dusts it on his knee. “If you’re around her, she’s bound to… She’ll claim your Uncle Clay didn’t die of natural causes.”
I take a half-step back. “She believes he was murdered?”
“Yeah.” He plunks on his hat. “She does.”