Chapter 3
BODHI
As a rule, I tended not to go to town often.
I made the trek at least once a month in order to pick up groceries, check my mail at the post office—whatever couldn’t come up the path to my cabin—and run a few other errands.
Online delivery was one of the best things ever invented for a man who truly did not want to be forced to leave the house or deal with other people.
Especially in a town that had turned on me so quickly.
I parked my truck in front of the hardware store, my list in hand of tools that I wanted to get locally versus online.
I might hate part of Ashford Creek for what they had done, and how they had left us behind, even when I had been too young to understand, but I was still going to support a few of the places that hadn’t turned on us.
Old Jessup from the hardware store, who hadn’t been that old when I was a kid, still ran it.
Though both of his sons and their wives did most of the actual day-to-day running of the store these days.
The old man used to sneak us candies, and even an apple or two when we had been too young to fend for ourselves.
Our mom had been gone, her death ruled accidental, even though we all had known that wasn’t the case.
Of course, it wasn’t until recently that our dad had confessed to killing her, to taking the life out of her after he had truly tried to do so for so many years prior.
Even if it had just been her energy and thirst for life in general.
Before he’d gotten married again—and subsequently chased off that wife to her death—he’d ignored all of us kids.
And though my youngest brothers, the twins, Sterling and Finnian, had been babies, we’d done our best to take care of them.
And the townsfolk who hadn’t turned a blind eye to what our father had been doing to us had taken care of us.
And old man Jessup had been one of them.
I got out of my truck and ignored a few glances from people I did not want to pay attention to.
My wife and children had been murdered. Killed when they’d been asleep, and I hadn’t been close enough to save them.
And while that guilt would forever dig its way into my soul and bury me beneath the tides of time, their stares had nothing to do with that loss as much as everything to do with their own pain and guilt.
I tilted my head at two of them, a sign of acknowledgement. I wasn’t going to hide from their stares, not anymore. I had done so the first year, when the suspicion of my family’s death had been draped over my shoulders.
These two people, who had gone to church with my mother, who had been in her gardening club, had thought I had been the type of man my father had always been.
These two women had never stepped up to protect their so-called friend, my mother, and had never once tried to spare the child.
Instead, they had ignored the signs of abuse and hatred and had moved on with their lives.
After all, Ashford Creek was supposed to be a small town of tourism and happiness.
The bread and butter of America. There were no dark shadows and lurking secrets to take that away from them.
And if they washed away their sins with each passing sunny day, then they could move on and pretend they hadn’t been part of the problem.
Not only had they allowed families to die, to rot, but they thought I’d killed my soul. They thought I’d lit fire to my own house, to watch my wife burn in our baby’s room.
My wife had woken up to the smoke, and the smoke detectors had been disabled.
She’d crawled to our babies. And that’s where Thatcher had found them.
My wife’s body, covering our children, as if her slight frame had been able to protect them from the worst. My children hadn’t been sleeping when the fire came.
They had cried and screamed. And though I hadn’t been able to hear those screams, at least not in real life, I had in my dreams. In my nightmares.
I had run back into the flames, had shoved my way through the fiery abyss, and had failed. Just like Mr. Carter had failed. Just like Thatcher had failed.
My burns had been my sign of guilt, my brand of disloyalty.
Those two women had proclaimed my guilt even before I’d been questioned by the authorities. There hadn’t been one single thread of evidence, just circumstantial, and yet, they knew, they absolutely knew that I had to have killed my family.
Both women visibly paled as I greeted them, and then I pushed them from my mind.
I wasn’t going to hide from those who thought I was guilty.
No, that wasn’t why I liked my isolation.
Not that I was too isolated anymore. It was hard to be alone when a woman was breaking down in a cabin not twenty feet from your house.
I had tried to ignore Kiera’s cries, at least the first time, but then the second time, I brought food and a blanket, leaving, knowing I needed the space just as she did.
The third night, she’d played music while cooking on her own, and I’d walked past, ignoring the sinking sensation in my gut.
Courtney used to sing. She had loved music. My baby had sung, even the littlest one, with little babbles.
I didn’t play music in my house anymore.
Kiera hadn’t known that. And my own destruction didn’t need to taint whatever healing Kiera was finding.
I walked into the hardware store, ignoring another glare.
It didn’t matter that the person who had murdered my family was behind bars.
They had marked me as guilty, and to assuage their own consciences, they couldn’t find forgiveness.
I didn’t have anything for them. So they could wallow in their own self-hatred, while thrashing it in my direction.
My family, my siblings, and I already had enough directed toward us when it came to that.
And that’s when I faltered, reaching for another set of screws.
Maybe it wasn’t the murder they thought of when they stared at me. Not anymore. Odd to think I’d almost forgotten. Almost let myself believe that I could breathe again.
I hadn’t been the one to kill my father. Yet, I had been the one to push him back from trying to kill my brother. To kill me. And when he had fallen back on his own knife, he’d been the one to cry out, that blade sinking into his belly and chest like hot metal into butter.
The man who had tortured us, who had killed our mother, was dead.
And while I hadn’t technically killed him, some of the town had marked me as such.
“Well, hell,” I muttered.
“Everything okay?” I turned as a familiar man lumbered toward me, leaning heavily on his cane. I tossed the screws into my hand basket and moved forward.
“Hey. I thought you were staying home for now. What are you doing out?” I asked, noticing that Jessup’s face had grayed considerably in the past couple of weeks since I had seen him.
He had survived a stroke in the past year, and the fact that he was walking at all was a miracle, but I hated to see it.
Jessup just growled at me. “I’m fine, boy. And just like my sons, always hovering as if I can’t handle things on my own.”
“You look like you could keel over at any minute. Not quite sure what you’re handling? Other than your pride.”
When Jessup grinned at me and barked out a laugh, I knew he’d understood the barb. I wasn’t that much of a jackass. I was just damn worried about the man. Just like his sons were. I looked over his shoulder at Jesse, who was staring at his dad with worry etched on his face.
I’d made sure the old man got back to his son, and Jesse trusted me with that. None of these family members had ever once thought I was the worst of the worst. And that was why I still shopped there. Because they deserved my support.
And afterwards, I would pick up groceries and head back up to my place, doing my best to ignore the world.
It was easier said than done, I knew, but I didn’t have any other choice.
“I hear you have a visitor,” Jessup said, and I paused, my hands stiffening.
Nobody should know Kiera was at my place. Not unless one of my siblings was talking. And while Teagan had messaged me about Kiera ahead of time—a message I had promptly ignored incorrectly—she wouldn’t have told anybody. She protected our privacy, especially here, at this moment.
“Oh?” I asked, my tone harsher than I had intended.
“Briar and Gabriel are in town, right? And they brought that baby girl of hers. Of course, she’s five now.
Not so much of a baby.” Something flashed over the old man’s eyes, and I realized he was thinking about my kids.
The fact that they would be older than Maisie by now.
I pushed that thought away and let my shoulders sag in relief, be it infinitesimally.
I didn’t need anybody to catch on that it wasn’t my sister that I had been thinking about.
“They got here last night. I haven’t seen them yet.
” I would, it wasn’t like Briar would let me be for too long.
She and Teagan constantly took care of their brothers, because it wasn’t as if we’d had a mom around to do so.
I wanted her to thrive because it wasn’t Mom’s fault, or our stepmom’s fault, that they hadn’t been able to survive the torture that was living with our dad.
But they had done their best by us, and I would never hate them for that fact.
“Well, you say hi to them, and you make sure they come and say hello to me.”
My lips twitched. “You know they will. Briar loves you.”
“As she should.”
His gaze darkened, and I looked over my shoulder to see who he could possibly be glaring at. Dread pooled in my gut, but I ignored it. I wasn’t surprised Nathan was around, lurking, but it still annoyed the fuck out of me.
“Why don’t you get your things and go out the back? No need to deal with him.”
“He doesn’t get to own this store or my time. Don’t worry.”
Jessup gave me a look, but nodded, conceding.
I sighed, gathered the rest of the things on my list, and made my way to check out.