Chapter 9
cade
The road home unspools in front of me, headlights cutting through the dark.
My hands tighten on the wheel as Pony’s words from the Rusty Spur replay over and over.
She was always a slut.
I wanted to knock the bastard’s teeth down his throat.
But the anger isn’t only at him. It’s at me, too. I’ve said the same cruel things to her—right to her face, behind her back—and yet I flare up when someone else says them as if I’m the only one allowed to be vicious to Sarah.
And what gives me that right? That was ten years ago….
I hear Maverick then, his voice sharp as a branding iron. “This ain’t 2015 anymore, Cade. It’s 2025. We believe women now as we should’ve then.”
But that’s the thing. I did believe. I believed my brother.
Unease swamps me as I recall Kaz’s warning.
Is Mav right? Am I repeating an old story like it’s new evidence?
But it’s not a story—not something manufactured. I was there. It happened.
“She’s been hittin’ on me for months, so don’t blame me because…we both were drunk, alright?” Landon wears an armor of wounded indignation. It’s his special skill.
“I don’t care. You fucked my girlfriend, Landon. How could you?”
“She wanted it. Asked me again and again. I…I know it’s wrong, but what the fuck did you want me to do when she stood naked, asking me to see if her pussy was—”
I hit him. His lip splits, and he goes down on his knees. He doesn’t fight back, just says, “I’ll always regret this, brother…but she’s not worth us fightin’.”
He looks at me with pity, like he’s the one with the moral high ground.
Dad comes into the living room, looking stern. “We have a situation.”
“What?” I ask.
“Sarah is sayin’ Landon raped her.”
“What the fuck?” my brother cries out. “How dare she? Dad, we had sex. Consensual sex. I told her no, but….” He turns to face me. “Ask any of my friends, and they’ll tell you how she is when your back is turned.”
“She’s not like that!” I want to scream the words, but they come out weak. My Sarah slept with my brother. How could she?
“Stop it!” Dad raises a hand. “It’s a good thing Hugh isn’t in town. I talked to Porter, and he’s going to talk to her. I’ve talked to Sam, and he’s going to make sure Sarah doesn’t go around blatherin’ lies.”
Even her father doesn’t believe her. Sam Kirk adores his daughter, but even he….
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know you love that girl, but she’s trash. You stay the fuck away from her before she accuses you of something.”
His phone rings at that moment, and the screen says: Porter Montgomery. He’s the deputy. Dad and he have been buddies since they were kids.
“I have to take this. I need you both to be Mercers. We speak as one family.”
Despite my father’s warnings, I went to see her the next day. I had to. By then, the whispers were already spreading.
Ten years ago, I’d been a boy, terrified that my brother would end up in jail because of my girlfriend. She had to be lying; anything else was impossible to believe. And blood is thicker than water, isn’t it? How could I believe the girl I loved over the brother I was raised to follow?
So, I didn’t.
And now Kaz’s questions were haunting me.
“Let me ask you somethin’, Cade. You ever think maybe she wasn’t lyin’?”
The wheel creaks under my grip. I shake my head. No way.
Landon’s got his flaws, but he isn’t a liar. He isn’t capable of…that.
By the time I pull into the drive, the house is dark. Only the porch light glows, catching the familiar lines of Blue Rock’s ranch house—solid, weathered, the kind of place that looks like it’s been here forever and will still be standin’ long after I’m gone. It gives me comfort.
Tillie meets me at the door, purse slung over her shoulder. “Evie’s asleep. Ate her dinner, took her bath, went down easy.”
“You’re a miracle,” I tell her, and I mean it.
She gives me her no-nonsense smile. “You pay me to keep the world from fallin’ apart, Cade. Now go in and check on her since you’re dyin’ to do it.”
I chuckle and see her out, lockin’ the door behind her. Then I pad down the hall to peek in on my girl.
Evie’s curled on her side, thumb tucked in her fist, Dolly the stuffed cow clutched tight under her chin. The nightlight casts her face in soft gold, and for a moment, I just stand there, my breath caught under my sternum.
People say she looks like me, and she does. But sometimes I catch flashes of Jeanine—the curve of her cheek, the stubborn set of her mouth when she sleeps.
Jeanine. We’d never been in love. But I put a ring on her finger, tried to build something solid out of shaky ground. I didn’t know then, but she didn’t want this life. I’d been a conquest—to get the boy who Sarah Kirk was with, ‘cause she was so smug about it, according to Jeanine.
She seemed all right for the first few months of her pregnancy, thrilled to be married and delighted to be carrying my child. But once she gave birth, the complaining began.
Then there was the fact that she wasn’t interested in Evie at all.
I thought it was postpartum depression, but…it was just who Jeanine was.
I did my best to anchor her.
I failed.
The night she died, Evie was strapped in her car seat in the back. Jeanine had been drinking and lost control on the county road. By the grace of God, Evie came out without a scratch. Jeanine didn’t.
I hated her for that. Resented her for risking our baby’s life. But now all I feel is relief that Evie is healthy, that she doesn’t remember her mother, who would’ve emotionally fucked her up for sure.
I brush Evie’s hair back from her forehead and press a kiss to her temple. She’s the only part of Jeanine I’ll ever want to keep.
I used to picture a different life. One where Sarah and I had married. Where we had a brood of kids running wild through the pastures, raising them together the way we always dreamed.
As I walk back down the hall to my bedroom, the seeds of doubt Kaz planted burn again, hotter this time: “What if she was tellin’ the truth, Cade?”