Chapter Ten
CREW WORKED STRAIGHT through the afternoon, cleaning out cobwebs, scrubbing surfaces, sweeping, mopping, wiping down everything within sight, organizing, and taking stock of every piece of equipment. He fixed the things he could and made mental notes to learn how to fix the things he couldn’t.
The need to fix what was broken, to minimize the stress on others, came naturally.
After Robbie died, his mother had fallen into a deep depression, and his father had grown unbearably short-tempered.
Crew had been forced to quickly learn how to handle his own shit.
He’d make damn sure he wasn’t a drain on the Whiskeys, or anyone else on this ranch.
He was putting away the last of the supplies when Cowboy returned several hours later. He opened the tack room door, and his brow furrowed. Instead of stepping into the room, he closed the door, then opened it again, looking curiously at Crew.
“I plumbed it up,” Crew said. He’d fixed the toilet and tightened a loose saddle rack or two, but there was no need to mention those things.
“Huh. Thanks. You missed lunch. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just wasn’t hungry.”
Cowboy walked around the room, eyeing the equipment. He ran his fingers over a shelf and looked at them. He opened cupboards and cabinets, looked at the spotless windows, and peered into the bathroom.
“Damn, Hen—Crew. You did a nice job.”
Crew let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I guess those prison janitorial assignments paid off.”
“Right,” Cowboy said carefully. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
When the silence stretched uncomfortably, Crew broke it. “I appreciate the work. I can’t stand having idle hands.”
“That won’t be a problem around here. Dinner’s up. Let’s get some food in your stomach before there’s no food left.”
“I should head to the cabin and shower first.”
“No need. We all stink,” Cowboy said lightly.
Habit had Crew about to say he’d take his chances and head to the cabin for that shower, but he thought better of it.
He wasn’t a neat freak, but cleanliness had been ingrained in him by his father, who had tied it, and everything else, to success.
Crew had gone from living under an elitist umbrella to being told when and where to do every damn thing in prison.
The strange thing was, he hadn’t realized he’d been imprisoned for most of his life until he was behind bars.
Shoving the urge to step back into that familiar structure down deep, he grabbed his jacket and put it on as they stepped outside.
“You get that tractor fixed?” Crew asked as they headed up the hill toward the main house.
“Not yet,” Cowboy said. “Had a hundred other things to take care of.”
They both fell silent, and even though it wasn’t a comfortable silence, after what had gone down with Dare, he appreciated Cowboy’s professionalism.
Having to supervise the asshole who had nearly killed his brother and his sister-in-law was a shitty position to be in.
Crew knew it had to take a hell of a lot for Cowboy to walk beside him without either giving him hell or slaughtering him.
The dining room was packed with unfamiliar faces of men and women.
They were all wearing jeans with flannels or sweaters, their upbeat conversations lightening the air, which smelled like a home-cooked meal.
The version of home Crew had lost too young.
Not that being in a room full of strangers felt like home.
He doubted anything ever would feel like home again.
“Cowboy!” a child shouted from across the room.
Crew glanced over and saw a boy with curly brown hair kneeling on a chair beside Sasha, waving at Cowboy.
On the boy’s other side sat a dark-haired man Crew didn’t recognize.
His hand was on the boy’s back, but his eyes were trained on Sasha, who was gazing adoringly at the child.
Across the table from them was Sully, looking at Cowboy like he’d hung the moon.
Cowboy waved in their direction but spoke to Crew. “Hit the buffet and find a seat. Clear your plate when you’re done, and try to stay out of trouble.” He headed for the boy.
Crew scanned the room for Dare, spotting Tiny and Wynnie sitting at another table, talking with a brown-haired teenage boy. Tiny was nodding, and Wynnie was listening with her whole body, leaning forward, one hand wrapped around her mug like an anchor.
Dare was nowhere in sight.
Guiltily relieved, Crew made his way to the buffet.
He’d expected a basic meal but was met with a selection of fried chicken, a pasta dish, huge platters of vegetables, biscuits, and about a half dozen other sides and salads.
As he filled his plate, a woman with curly auburn hair and a scar down the left side of her face stepped up to the buffet beside him. He nodded in greeting.
“Hi. You’re Crew, right?”
His gut tightened, preparing to be given shit. “Yeah.”
“I’m Simone,” she said as she grabbed a plate. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
She put a piece of chicken on her plate and said, “Bet you feel like you need armor, huh?”
That caught him off guard. “I don’t deserve armor. I’d be happy with an instruction manual for how to get from point A to point B.”
“I understand that feeling. Everyone’s journey is different. I went through one of the programs here after completing rehab in Maryland. Every day was scary, but I wanted a new life so badly, I could taste it. It’s definitely worth the pain.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Oh gosh, several years now.”
He did a double take. “Years?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I stayed on after finding my new normal. I wanted to help others, so I went back to school to become a counselor. Now I’m in a master’s program. This place, and these people, they make you see things differently. You’ll get there if you want it bad enough.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice, and said, “But given your circumstances, you might want to invest in some armor.”
She didn’t sound like she was kidding.
As she walked away, he finished filling his plate and went to find a seat, wishing there were smaller tables where he could sit by himself.
He saw Hyde and Taz at a table that had a few empty seats. As he neared, he heard them giving each other a hard time and hesitated, worried his presence might put them, and everyone else at the table, in a difficult position with the Whiskeys.
“I’m telling you, grease it first.” Taz stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork and pointed it at Hyde. “Less friction that way.”
Hyde scoffed. “No shit. That’s Physics 101, genius.”
“Fuck physics,” Taz said. “It’s a life rule. Works with women and all my worst decisions.”
“And there you have it, folks,” Hyde announced. “The reason Taz has been banned from most clubs.”
A ripple of laughter rose around the table.
Just as Crew was about to head over, Doc walked in carrying an adorable little girl with wispy brown hair that curled around her ears.
He was talking with a pretty brunette, his other hand resting on her lower back.
He didn’t seem to notice Crew standing between the buffet and the table, so Crew stayed put, his nerves flaring as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation.
“Keep it clean for Doc’s ladies, mates,” Taz called out.
“Evening, Juliette, Doc,” Hyde said, turning in his seat. He tickled the little girl’s foot, earning the sweetest giggle. “Hello, Miss Hazel. When’s your daddy going to let you take over the vet practice?”
Doc looked lovingly at his little girl. “As soon as she learns the difference between a teething ring and my stethoscope.”
“Give her the damn stethoscope if she wants it,” Hyde said, tickling Hazel’s foot again. Her tiny arms flailed, another giggle ringing out.
“Don’t let that sweet face fool you,” Juliette said. “She had us all up at three in the morning.”
“Hey, mate, did you use your doctor voice to settle her down?” Taz asked.
Doc shook his head.
“Are you kidding?” Juliette looked amused. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. She probably gets up just to get snuggled by him.” She leaned into Doc and said, “I know I do.”
Doc chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze drifted over Taz’s shoulder, landing squarely on Crew, and that smile morphed into something brittle and formal.
He held Hazel a little tighter and hooked his hand around Juliette’s waist. His protective instinct was so subtle, if Crew’s senses hadn’t been honed by years in the pen, he might have missed it.
Someone’s fork scraped against their plate, jarring Crew’s brain into gear. He’d walked willingly into this, and there was no room to second-guess it. With a nod, he said, “Evening.”
“Crew,” Doc said flatly.
Beside him, Juliette gave a careful smile. “Hi. I’m Juliette.”
Crew nodded, his chest tight.
“You gonna stand there all day, rookie, or sit your ugly ass down?” Hyde said, motioning to an empty chair.
Crew heard him, but he and Doc were locked in a stare down, the space between them loaded not with challenge, but with unspoken apologies from Crew and an unmistakable watch yourself from Doc. Crew got that. He hadn’t earned the right to be there, much less given any of them a reason to trust him.
Juliette touched Doc’s arm and said, “We should eat before Hazel gets cranky.”
Doc lowered a softer gaze to Juliette. Then they headed for the buffet.
Crew was making his way to the table when Dare and Billie walked in like they were attached at the hip, shoulders brushing, matching cowboy hats perched on their heads, and eyes only for each other.
Her laughter was as easy as Dare’s slap on her ass.
She shot him a look that told of everything they were to each other.
Dare pulled her into a kiss, and as their lips parted, he noticed Crew. The air snapped, his jaw clenched, and his hands fisted. Billie followed his gaze to Crew, and her smile fell in a way that proved the connection had been made without an introduction.
Fuck. The last thing Crew wanted was to cause another scene.
As he scrambled for the right thing to do, Robbie’s voice whispered through his mind.
You go first. You’re good at the scary parts.
That’s how I know it’s okay to follow. How many times had Robbie said that to him about everything from skiing to facing their father when they were in trouble?
That was the push Crew needed to get his feet moving in their direction.
He stopped a safe distance away to show he wasn’t a threat.
“Dare,” he said. Then he turned to Billie, who looked caught—by or between what, he had no idea.
“Hi. I’m Crew Hendricks. I know sorry will never be enough to make up for what I’ve done, but—”
“You’re right, it won’t,” Dare interrupted. He grabbed Billie’s hand and stormed out the way they’d come.
Crew swallowed hard, feeling the heat of too many eyes on him.
“That went better than I expected.”
Startled at the sound of Tiny’s deep voice, Crew turned and found Tiny heading for the buffet behind him. “Sorry, sir. I…had to try.”
Tiny’s stoic expression didn’t change. “Take a seat and eat before the food’s too cold to stomach.” He grabbed a plate off the buffet, turning his back to Crew.
Crew went to sit down.
“You’re a glutton for punishment, huh, mate?” Taz asked.
Crew didn’t respond, the gravity of the situation pressing in on him. Am I doing the right thing? Is it selfish to be here? Am I making it worse for Dare and Billie?
Am I trying to give myself a reason to leave?
Amid the din of banter and conversation, it was Tiny’s voice that cut through his thoughts. Sometimes you’ve got to learn how to stand in the wreckage without becoming a part of it.
Crew had not only been wading through wreckage since he was a kid. He wore it like a fucking cloak. He’d just added more to it with the accident…and with Trouble. He fucking hated hurting her. Instead of weakening him, that hardened his resolve to accomplish what he’d set out to do.
He looked around the room. No one was staring. No one was openly judging him or asking why the hell he was still there. They all knew why he was there, and they were acting like they were used to people doing horrible shit and showing up broken in an effort to figure out how to move forward.
Maybe they were, but he wasn’t used to being someone who had done horrible shit.
Come hell or high water, he’d see this through. If giving his all wasn’t enough, he’d damn well figure out what would be.