Chapter 35
cade
Sarah stayed the night in Tillie’s room.
And then she stayed the next day, and then the next.
She let me help get her truck back and cleaned up so she could use it. She let me hold her hand. She let me be there for her.
It’s Sunday morning, and all my dreams feel like they have come true.
I’m at the kitchen table with Sarah; Evie is curled up on her lap, coloring.
Bandit sprawls at their feet, twitching in his sleep.
It’s a picture of peace I didn’t know I’d ever have with my Dove and our child—until a knock on the front door shatters it.
I already know who it is before I open the door.
Landon and Violet have been blowing up my phone for days with messages and questions about what’s going on and why Denver PD came to talk to them about Sarah’s house burning down.
I ignored every text message and voicemail. I owe my brother no explanations.
“It’s them,” I tell Sarah.
“It’s who?” Evie wants to know.
I smile gently at her. “Just some people.”
Sarah straightens and puts on her game face.
“You don’t have to be here.” I tilt my chin to the door that leads out of the kitchen into the yard and then the barn.
“Go get the door,” she says softly, her face unreadable.
I look pointedly at Evie.
“I got this,” she adds.
I know she’ll protect my daughter. I have no doubt about it. Sarah loves Evie even though she just met her—she loves her because she’s mine and because Sarah loves me.
Now, if only she’d trust me….
I take my time walking to the front door. Since the poisoning, I’ve started locking doors, which is unusual for most folks in Wildflower Canyon. But I’m glad for it because it means Landon can’t just walk in.
I open the door with a grimace.
Landon is in his congressman uniform: polished cowboy boots, tailored sport coat, and designer jeans. This is his ‘I’m a cowboy but sophisticated’ look.
Violet walks past her husband, all but pushing me aside to enter my home.
She’s in a silk dress that costs more than three months’ worth of hay. This is my hard-earned money they’re spending. I’ve never resented it as much as I do now.
“We need to talk, Cade Mercer,” she declares like a drama queen.
“Brother,” Landon greets, voice dripping charm. “She’s just…she’s upset.”
“Of course I’m upset,” Violet screeches as she flops onto the couch, pushing aside some of Evie’s picture books so they land with a small thud on the area rug.
I step aside and let my brother in.
“Did you tell Hugh Dillon that we might be involved in that bitch’s house burning down?” Violet demands. She’s shouting.
“No, I did.” Sarah steps out from the kitchen into the living room. Evie isn’t with her. She probably handed her off to Dodge to go riding, to be away from the house.
Landon pales when he sees Sarah.
Violet’s lips curl, and she lets out a sharp laugh. “Well, well. That explains why you’ve not been answering my calls, Cade. You’ve taken up with the town whore.”
Before Sarah can flinch, I step between them. My blood runs hot. “Be careful how you talk to her in my home.” Our home.
Sarah smirks, chin high, refusing to shrink. And God, I love her for it.
“What do you both want?” I snap.
Landon’s mask is back in place. “Denver PD showed up early this morning. You’re having some trouble at the ranch?” His eyes keep flitting from me to Sarah and back, like he can’t believe she’s here—comfortably here.
But he should’ve known after the last time.
“Yes, he is.” Sarah moves to stand next to me. She grabs my hand. She’s making a statement. I’m there for it. “Someone tried to kill his new Angus. Didn’t succeed. But they did manage to kill a younger bull.”
She’s looking straight at Landon, and he’s shifty as hell—nervous, scared.
You should be, you son of a bitch!
Violet rises and stalks up to us. “You need to shut the fuck up, bitch.”
“Someone recently said that to me.” Sarah squeezes my hand—her way of telling me to let her handle this.
“Then maybe you should listen,” Violet sneers.
“Now, why would I do that?” Sarah tilts her head and smiles serenely. She doesn’t feel calm—I know it. I can all but touch the tension radiating from her. But she puts on a good facade.
Note to self: never, ever play poker with Sarah. Unless maybe strip poker….
Violet turns to face her husband. “Do something about this, Landon.” She waves at Sarah and me.
“We’re busy,” I chime in before Landon can say anything. “And you’re not welcome here. So why don’t you say what you have to and get out?”
Landon, the peacemaker, nods stiffly at Sarah. “You’ve taken up your father’s practice. I hear it’s going well.” He speaks like he’s talking to a constituent, not a girl he violated.
Sarah cocks an eyebrow but remains silent.
“Landon, you don’t talk to her,” I snap. “Hell, you don’t even look at her.”
“Senator Jessup tried to book a meeting with you, but you turned him down,” Violet rudely cuts me off.
I lift a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Don’t like politicians. See no reason to meet with one.”
Landon lets out a slow, exaggerated sigh like I’m someone dumb he needs to educate—with patience. He slides an arm around his wife, showing a united front.
“Don’t you want a better life for Evie, Cade?” he asks, his tone beseeching.
“Evie has a damn good life,” I counter blandly.
He gestures toward the couches and armchairs of my comfortable living room. “Why don’t we sit down? Maybe Tillie can fix—”
“This is not a social call,” I interrupt, my voice soft enough to be menacing. “You’re disturbing our Sunday afternoon.”
“I came to talk sense into you.” Landon’s jaw tightens. He’s running out of patience. “About Jessup. About selling Blue Rock.”
Violet jerks her husband’s arm off from around her and steps forward, into our personal space. Her perfume is thick, cloying. “And you need to get your whore to shut up and stop spreading rumors about Landon. This is an election year.”
I give Violet a withering look. “Didn’t I just tell you not to call her names?” I say at the same time as Sarah goads, “And what if I don’t shut up?”
Violet isn’t used to people striking back at her, and she’s surprised. But she course corrects effortlessly. “Then I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Sarah hums in mock thoughtfulness. “That feels like a threat. I am”—she frowns—“feeling a little frightened, and Hugh did say that I should let him know if I feel threatened.”
Landon sighs. “Come on, Cade. Cut this out. I know Hugh and—”
“He won’t be sweeping nothin’ under the rug,” I interject. “This time she’s going to tell her truth.”
For a heartbeat, there’s silence.
Then Violet bursts out laughing. It’s bitter, sharp.
“The truth? You think this is the first time Landon’s had to deal with silly little girls and their stories?
Do you know how many of them I’ve had to shut up over the years?
With money. With threats. With whatever it took to keep his career clean. ”
The air leaves my lungs. Sarah goes still beside me, her face draining of color.
“Violet, cut it out,” Landon cries, aware of what his wife has let slip out.
I ignore him and hold Violet’s gaze. “You know.”
“Of course I know,” Violet spits. “He’s a man. A powerful one. These girls throw themselves at him, and then they regret it. Someone has to protect him. That’s what a wife does.”
Sarah makes a sound then—a small, broken gasp—and it’s like the earth cracks open under me.
Rage burns through my veins as I push Sarah subtly behind me. “Get the hell off my land.”
Landon bristles. “Cade—”
“You heard me.” My fists are balled tight, the still-healing skin over torn knuckles cracking.
“I don’t want you here. Not you, not her.
You come back, and I won’t be civil about it.
This is my home. You come here if I permit it.
The ranch may be partly yours, Landon, but you come here when I allow it. And I don’t.”
Violet scoffs, but her eyes flick nervously to Sarah.
Landon’s jaw ticks, fury flashing under his smooth veneer. “We have to talk reasonably about this, brother.” He’s in full politician mode, still trying to save a situation that’s hit rock bottom.
“No, we don’t,” I growl. “Now get the fuck out.”
He gives Sarah a last look. “No one believed you then for a reason. No one will believe you now.”
“Then you should have no problem with me joining the other women who have stories to tell about you.” Sarah’s eyes are blazing bright. Whatever weakness she experienced when she found out that Violet had been protecting Landon vanished.
That shuts them both up. And I can see, clear as day, that they know others are talking. They’re aware of the investigations.
“Be careful, both of you,” Violet flings at us. “You never know what can happen.”
They leave, and we stand in silence, frozen for a long moment even after the door slams shut, and we hear the sound of tires spitting gravel as they tear down my drive.
Sarah’s trembling slightly. She just looks at me, her green eyes dark with horror and something I can’t quite name.
We both know the truth now. It’s worse than we imagined.
Violet’s been helping him all along.
My fists stay curled, fresh blood seeping out.
Beside me, Sarah lets out a sound I can’t name—half a sob, half a ragged exhale. She folds her arms tight across her middle like she’s trying to hold herself together.
And just like that, the rage in me gutters out.
“Dove—”
Her knees buckle, and I catch her before she hits the floorboards. She clutches the front of my shirt, burying her face against me, shaking so hard it nearly rattles my bones.
“She knew,” she whispers, broken. “All this time…she knew. And she covered for him. How can a woman do that to other women?”
“I know,” I rasp, pressing my chin to her hair. My own body quivers. “Christ, Sarah, I’m so sorry. I should’ve—God, I should’ve believed you. I should’ve protected you.”
She jerks back, eyes wild with pain. “It wasn’t only you.
It was everyone. My father. Your father then.
Violet. Why…why is it so hard to trust women when they tell you a man hurt them?
Like it’s a foreign concept, like it’s not in the realm of possibility when it happens every second of every day around the world. ”
My throat burns as tears blur my vision. I grip her face between my hands. “I was too damn young, too scared, too loyal to the wrong people, and I ruined us. But you always were and are everything.”
Tears spill down her cheeks. She shakes her head. “I’m wrecked, Cade. You can’t fix me.”
“You don’t need fixin’, baby.” My voice cracks. “I just want to be beside you. I want to carry it with you.”
For a long moment, we just hold on—me, sobbing into her hair, her fists knotted in my shirt like she’ll drown if she lets go.
The kiss is not soft, not sweet—it’s broken, like us.
A clash of salt and tears, teeth knocking, desperate and raw.
A kiss that says we’re shattered, but we’re still here, still together.