Chapter Three
The Bennet Ranch
Cal Bennet knew what he was doing.
Sometimes he had to remind himself of that very fact, but that didn’t change that he did know. He was a damn grown man, with a successful career—maybe that particular career was being left behind in Texas, but he could certainly build a new one on top of the ashes of that one.
He was a damn good lawyer, and maybe the little town of Marietta didn’t need him setting up shop, but it couldn’t hurt. Between Honor’s Edge Investigations bringing people in who often would need some kind of legal help, and the fact he could travel if need be, meant it was doable.
Once he passed the Montana bar, which he considered more technicality than anything to worry about.
The thing he was worried about was facing Aly Cartwright. Soon to be Aly Bennet. And it pissed him off he was worried about telling her he was going to live in town instead of on the ranch.
He was a grown man. One with a considerable amount of life under his belt. He’d been living alone for over a decade. What did her opinion matter to him?
Sure, she was a close friend, his soon-to-be sister-in-law and, hell, even if she wasn’t marrying Landon, she’d been like a sister to him most his life. She meant something to him.
But that didn’t mean he needed her approval.
Don’t you wish.
Truth of the matter was, Aly had pretty much always been there—the daughter of his dad’s foreman growing up, then just about raised by his parents after her father had died when she’d been a teenager. She was a fixture in his life and on this ranch.
And he hated hurting her.
The Bennet Ranch had been a good place to recover from his gunshot wound, to deal with some of his mental shit, but it would never be his life like it was Landon and Aly’s. Aly wouldn’t understand that. He knew she wouldn’t, so he was dreading this.
But he was a damn grown man. Or so he told himself as he parked his brand-new SUV in the gravel in front of the ranch house he’d grown up in.
He sat in the car, brooding a little as he stared at the house. His childhood in there had never been happy at its core, but there had been happy, good moments when his mother had been alive.
With Dad in jail—forever, forever—Cal knew there could be happiness in there again. Landon and Aly would sweep out the bad and the ugly and the fucked up and make it good. He knew they would.
And he just couldn’t live underfoot after they got married. He didn’t know quite what that feeling was—he didn’t begrudge them their happiness, figured they just about belonged together—but the idea of living in its proximity gave him hives.
Maybe he was just that much of a commitment-phobe.
Maybe that was the excuse he’d give Aly, so she didn’t get that hurt look he hated on her face.
Because he just didn’t want to live here, even if he was planning on building a new life here in Marietta. Maybe even for good.
He finally forced himself out of the car and into the frigid spring evening. But even if the air felt icy, the snow under his feet was soft and slushy. Like warmth was on its way.
Spring in Montana. What would that be like after all these years? He wasn’t sure it would be anything good.
But he’d made his choices, so he was going to find out.
He forced himself across the yard and snow, up onto the porch. He scraped his shoes on the mat, then pushed open the door. Maybe this wasn’t his place to come home to anymore, but he’d be damned if he’d knock on the Bennet ranch house door.
He was greeted with warmth and the smell of dinner coming from the kitchen. Which meant Aly was likely in the kitchen. Landon was probably still out doing ranch chores.
Aly and Landon had built a normal life out of the whirlwind of shit they’d all endured over the past year.
Or maybe they hadn’t built it. Maybe they’d held onto it.
Because this had always been Landon and Aly, even when they’d just been friends, even when Dad had been here pulling all his narcissist strings.
They’d taken care of the ranch, taken care of each other, and taken care of Cal himself when they could finagle it.
He sighed. They were still going to try to do that, but Cal knew the next step in his life needed to be taking a little bit better care of himself, without the help of anyone else. Which would hurt Aly’s feelings.
But it had to be done. He moved for the kitchen and was unsurprised to find Aly at the stove.
Cal didn’t understand it, but she seemed to like to feed anyone within a fifty-mile radius.
She seemed to like the domestic duties of living, when Cal found he couldn’t be bothered. He’d rather shovel horse shit.
Her red hair was in a thick braid that rested between her shoulder blades. She was tall and lean. A pretty thing, all in all.
He’d always felt a little too protective of her to develop the kind of feelings Landon had always had for Aly. Besides, Aly only ever had eyes for Landon. They were made for each other that way.
But he also wasn’t blind.
“Something smells good.”
Aly turned and smiled in surprised greeting. When things had been really bad here, she’d been the only one in his life ever happy to see him. These days, Landon didn’t hate to see him coming, but Aly’s smile meant something.
Time to crush it, Bennet, just like you do everything else.
“You’re home,” she said.
He wondered if she had any idea how complicated the idea of being home was, but she just started looking around the kitchen.
“I wish you would have warned me. I would have made more.”
“You don’t have to feed me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll make do.” She started bustling around.
Making do. He might have said something to stop her, but Landon stomped in from the mudroom. He didn’t seem surprised to see Cal standing here, so Cal supposed he’d seen a new car in the drive and done the math.
“Welcome back,” Landon offered.
Which was a lot different than welcome home—different enough Cal was somehow both relieved and irritated.
Would he ever be something other than conflicted about his brother? Hard to say.
Seemed doubtful when Landon and Aly shared an easy, companionable kiss in greeting, and Cal had to fight off a grimace.
Aly instructed them to set the table, and Cal did as he was told, settling around the table once Aly was done with everything. She’d made do easy enough, and there was plenty to go around.
“Everything taken care of in Texas?” Landon asked casually as they all dug into their meal.
“Yep. Quit the job. Sold the condo. Even got registered to take the Montana bar in a few weeks.” Now was the time to say the rest. “I’m going to stay in town.” And because he was a coward, he tacked on, “For the time being.”
“In town?” Aly’s forehead creased.
Landon’s mouth firmed—not because he’d want Cal underfoot, no doubt, but because he’d want Aly happy.
“Yeah, I’m going to rent a place in town.”
“Why?”
“Once I pass the bar, my business will be in town—or even out of town. It doesn’t make sense for me to live all the way up here, particularly once winter rolls around again. I might as well make plans for permanence and all that.”
He’d hoped permanence might ease what he saw reflected on their faces, but Aly was frowning at him, and so was Landon. And in their expressions, everything he didn’t want. Worry. Concern.
Because they thought he was still as bad off as he’d been before the trial. When the traumatic amnesia had been really fucking with his equilibrium.
And, hell, he wasn’t much better, but better enough. Better enough that he understood he needed not just a job that made him feel capable again, but that he needed to stand on his own two feet everywhere he went.
“But you could stay here for the time being,” Aly pressed. “Ease in.”
Cal shook his head. “No. I’ve already got a place all lined up. I want to settle in like … well, the point is staying. Here just feels like visiting.”
Cal watched as Aly opened her mouth to say something, to argue, no doubt, but Landon put a hand over hers. In that hand, they had some kind of nonverbal communication.
Maybe that was the source of all his discomfort when it came to Aly and Landon.
It reminded him of his parents. Who hadn’t been happy. His father had been a narcissistic abuser, excellent manipulator, and—something Cal hadn’t realized at the time—an absolute terrorizer.
But his parents had done things like that. Exchanged easy affection. Had conversations with their eyes and gestures. Maybe there’d been a lot more fear and threat in that than he’d ever realized, but it was still … marriage.
Cal didn’t think Landon was secretly some evil, abusive asshole. Cal didn’t think Landon was bad at all, but he looked so much like Dad sometimes…
The reminder of everything before set him on edge, and he didn’t want it.
“Where are you going to be staying?” Aly asked, clearly trying to sound bright and excited for him when she wasn’t.
“The apartment above Honor’s Edge.”
“Oh.” The crease on her forehead smoothed out, and she seemed almost relieved.
Which is when it dawned on him.
She assumed Sam and Nate would be babysitting him then.
Well, if it made her feel better, he’d let her think that.
But he’d be damned if he was letting anyone take care of him.
*
“I don’t like it.”
Landon glanced at his fiancée. Aly had her hands on her hips and that stubborn expression on her face that Landon knew better than to argue with.
Mostly.
“I thought you said you were glad Sam and Nate would be nearby to keep an eye on him?”
“I am glad about that, but that doesn’t mean I like the whole of what he’s doing.”
“His choice,” Landon reminded her as he loaded the dishwasher.
Meanwhile Aly still stood at the doorway of the kitchen, staring out at where Cal had left some fifteen minutes ago.
“His bad choice. And I just don’t understand.” She turned back to face him, that hurt look in her eyes that he hated.
Because he never wanted to see her hurt. And he couldn’t seem to force his will on the world around them to make sure she wasn’t.
“His space here is private. The only thing he shares with us is a kitchen. Why isn’t it good enough?”
Landon didn’t answer that question, even though he had answers.
Cal had been helping out at the ranch when he’d been home, and it was nice, but it wasn’t …
it wasn’t Cal. Landon figured his older brother had remembered what he’d loved about being a lawyer during Dad’s case.
In Landon’s estimation, that … whatever it was …
had saved Cal from falling any deeper into all his issues.
Cal didn’t want to be a rancher. Landon wasn’t altogether sure Cal wanted to be a Bennet. He certainly didn’t want to be around a soon-to-be-married couple when he was … well, alone.
But Aly would have an argument for every one of those points, so Landon kept them to himself. They finished cleaning up the kitchen in a quiet, companionable silence, but Landon knew she was stewing.
He’d learned, the hard way sometimes, he had to let her.
So he didn’t introduce a new topic or try to talk more about this one.
They went through their normal bedtime routine with a few shared words, but mostly that easy silence, putting on pajamas, taking turns at the tiny bathroom sink brushing teeth.
Aly turned down the covers. Landon got into bed, leaning against the headboard and holding out his arm so she would sit next to him and lean in.
She did, and he felt her tight shoulders relax under his arm.
“Do you really think he should be alone?” she asked quietly.
Landon considered the question. It didn’t sit right, but he wasn’t very good with words—especially ones that dealt with feelings. He knew some simple truths, though.
A year ago, they would have had this conversation—but not in their shared bed. Not with the option to have his arm around her, not with any knowledge of what it felt like to kiss her. To hear her say I love you. And be able to say it back.
Which somehow made his answer easy.
He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “He’s not alone, Aly. None of us are anymore. No matter where we live.”
She looked up at him and even though her blue eyes were still a little sad, she smiled at him.
Then she pressed her mouth to his. “I love you,” she murmured.
“Say the other thing,” he replied, keeping her close, wanting to hear her laugh.
She rolled her eyes, huffed out a fake, irritated breath. “You’re right, I guess.”
Then they laughed together.