Chapter 37
“What’s the matter, honey?” Greyson asks, rubbing my tight shoulders in the steam-filled bathroom of our apartment. “Tonight gettin’ to you?”
“No. Well, yes. But not in the way you might think.” Mia’s bottom lip’s taken a real beating being chewed so relentlessly.
I take my time massaging knots of tension from her neck, shoulders and back.
“Talk to me. You can tell me anything.”
It takes her a minute, but she opens up to me.
“When Carter balked about the settlement amount, you told him to think of it as incentive for you not outing him to his colleagues and ruining his ‘pristine’ reputation. It surprised me you’d be concerned about his reputation, is all,” she says, looking pointedly away from the mirror to avoid my reflection looking back at her.
I laugh. One of those rare laughs that starts at the bottom of my toes—laughs that light her sky, and thereby, mine.
“Mia, honey. I meant to tell you right away but got caught up kicking his slimy ass out of town. I don’t give a damn about that piece of shit’s reputation aside from how to destroy it.
I wrote an anonymous email detailing how he’s a narcissistic, physical-verbal-emotional-and sexual abuser who has no ethics or morality.
I sent it to every family member, work associate, superior, colleague, and investor I could find linked to him or who were considering doing business with him. ”
Mia’s smiling like a jackal. Now it’s her turn to burst out laughing.
“You did not! That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. That’ll hurt him more than his messed-up hand tenfold.”
I shrug because it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe to some, but not for me, because protecting my family is as natural as breathing.
My beautiful fiancée turns around and wraps her arms around my waist, nestling her cheek on my chest. Our skin’s still warm from the shower, and I hum, relaxed.
When we got home, I insisted Mia take a shower, but she insisted I take a shower because I was covered in blood and sawdust. Neither of us would back down, so we showered together. Nothing sexual about it, just tenderly washing the past from our skin.
I dressed in a pair of boxer briefs and slipped one of my T-shirts over her head.
I lead Mia to bed and go through my nightly security check of the apartment before turning off the lights and joining her beneath the covers. The only light filtering in is from the nearly full moon in the cloudless night sky.
We lay facing each other, more settled than we’ve been since she arrived in Swiftwater—and for me, than I’ve been my entire life.
“I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s really over. I’m finally free, Greyson.” Happy tears collect in the corner of Mia’s blue eyes and drip down her nose.
“Believe it, honey. You and Everly never have to worry about your past ever again. No more looking over your shoulder or having one foot out the door ready to bolt.”
I press her hand to my heart. “This is your home.”
Far past exhausted, it’s time we go to sleep, but she still has something on her mind.
“So, when are we getting married?” she asks.
With no hesitation, I ask, “Is two months enough time to plan the wedding of your dreams? Should be enough time for my channels to get the paperwork finalized.”
“I'd marry you tomorrow on the sidewalk if I could.”
Me too, honey. Me too.
“Thanks for meeting with me.”
“Yea, man. No problem,” Connor says, looking over his shoulder for the second time since he sat down.
“What’s wrong with you?” I cross my arms and lean back in a booth tucked away in a corner of The Flying Pig.
It’s not my table per se, but I’ve done enough business with Frank and Lou Ann over the years that if they see me coming, they try to secure the booth for me. It’s tucked around an odd corner by the kitchen, so our presence is visually obscured and audibly masked.
“You’d tell me if you were gonna off me or something, right? You wouldn’t just”—Connor motions slitting his throat —“without a heads-up…right?”
“What in the Sam-hell are you on about?” I already don’t want to be here asking for his advice, but I don’t have a better alternative.
“So, I’m not in trouble?” Connor asks.
“For god’s sake, no, you’re not in fucking trouble. You’re, what, twenty-seven years old? Grow some balls, kid.”
“Alright, alright. What can I, uh, do for you Greyson?” Connor asks, sitting taller.
“Hot plate.” Lou Ann slides our plates onto the table with no further pageantry. Two ice waters are clunked onto the edge of the table, sloshing over the rims, and she storms off to terrorize her other patrons.
Connor and I look from the indiscernible slop on our plates to each other.
“I have no clue. I ordered two daily specials to keep it simple.” I shrug one shoulder.
I wasn’t particularly hungry when I got here, but Connor must be because he braves the mystery dish. One cautious bite turns into a second regular bite.
“No idea what it is. Gotta be some kind of ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ casserole, but it tastes good.” Connor digs in to his meal, but I have no desire to try it.
Mouth full, Connor mumbles, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Listen, it’s not that I don’t respect you, but you’re kinda my only option.”
Connor snorts. “I’m flattered.”
“It’s not something I’m ready for James or Reid to know, which means Isabelle can’t know.
And Olivia and Delilah can’t know because they’d surely tell Isabelle.
I’m not asking you to keep secrets from your wife.
I just need a sounding board, and you’re that additional step away from that bloodline, you know?
” I try to explain without coming across as a complete dick.
“Naw, I get it. I have CJ if I need to discuss something outside of the family. We’re cool,” Connor assures.
“The apartment above the hardware store was fine for me and Harper when she was a little thing, even when her old nanny stayed with us. Now with Mia and Everly, let’s just say it’s cozy.
Everyone’s got their own rooms but we’re on top of each other and there sure as hell is no such thing as privacy.
” I raise my eyebrows like, you know exactly what I mean.
“It’s great having the girls so close to school, but we’re spending less and less time at the apartment in favor of the space and freedom at the ranch.”
Connor nods thoughtfully, still shoveling slop into his mouth.
“Hell, I’m at the ranch once if not twice a day helping with ranch chores, and I’m not complainin’ one bit. I owe everything to the Andersens and the ranch. The girls love it out there just like I did as a kid.
“Aside from Olivia, our girls don’t have any ‘real’ family, which I know is bullshit. We’ve got an incredible found family and support system, and I don’t like being stuck in town when the ranch is where we all want to be.
“I want Harper and Everly to grow up with grandparents and aunts and uncles. Maybe cousins someday.” I take a deep breath, preparing to voice a plan I’ve only dreamed of in silence.
“I’d like to approach the Andersens about purchasing a plot of land to build on, like you did for Delilah. Despite the family basically raising me, it’s an ask I can’t take back, and I’ll never forgive myself if I jeopardize those relationships for the girls.”
Making the Andersens uncomfortable or putting them in an awkward position makes my chest ache.
“Damn, Clark, that’s the most consecutive words I’ve ever heard put together.” Sitting taller in the booth looking over heads, he muses, “Think anyone here has the contact information for the Guinness Book of World Records?”
A quick heel stomp on the bridge of his foot has him sitting back down, chuckling.
“Are you gonna eat yours?” Connor points at my plate. I slide it across to him in reply.
“Do you want my opinion on if you’re doing the right thing? Or are you asking how I did it so you can take a similar approach?” A heap of glop goes it his mouth, some landing in his beard. Poor Delilah, she has to kiss this fool when he gets home.
“Both.”
Connor washes it down with his entire glass of water and leans back against the booth, crossing his arms.
“First of all, hell yea I think you’re doing the right thing.
Living at Lucky Spurs Ranch is like leaving the troubles of the world behind and existing in a bubble where you’re always supported and surrounded by the people who love you most. I think that kind of environment is one of a kind and would be a great place for your kids to grow up,” Connor says.
My throat constricts with emotion because that’s the childhood I had at the ranch, and every night I had to return home, I had to stop myself from begging to stay forever.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I think that kind of environment could also help Mia heal, especially with Delilah’s equine-assisted learning program on site.” He retreats minutely, afraid he’s crossed a line making assumptions about Mia, but he’s dead on.
I nod like that damn bobblehead armadillo mounted on Reid’s dash, not meeting Connor’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“As for how I did it”—Connor chuckles—“it was surprisingly easy. Walter and Cecelia own the ranch on paper, but Reid has unilateral control of everything that happens there. I told Reid what I wanted and my reasons, and he said he’d get the paperwork drawn up and welcomed me to Lucky Spurs Ranch.”
“That was it?” I ask in disbelief.
“That was it. He set me up with his architects and was with me every step of the way.”
I toss down more than enough cash to cover lunch. “I’ll follow you back to the ranch.”
I need to get ready for my next conversation.
“Damn, Clark. Don’t think I’ve ever heard so many words come out of you.” Reid chuckles.
What the hell is with everyone pointing out my speech habits today?
“I mean, I’m a resounding yes. I’d love for you and your family to move to the ranch. But I think you’re really going to want to talk to Mom and Dad.”
Reid’s response takes me aback after what Connor said. My jaw muscles fight against my urge to open my mouth but I refrain.