Текст книги "Best Worst Mistake"

Автор книги: Lia Riley

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“Would you do something for me?” She inched closer.

“What’s that?”

She patted the side of the bed. “Come here. Be next to me. We don’t have to sleep together to sleep together. Maybe I’m not ready to go whole hog, but what about cuddling?”

“Cuddling?” His breath sounded labored.

“Don’t be so dismissive.”

“I’m not, it’s just that . . . no one has ever asked me to before. I don’t exactly have a reputation as the warm and cuddly type.”

“Or no one’s ever bothered to look close enough.”

He froze before sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking from his weight.

“There we go, that’s a start,” she said encouragingly.

“Now what?”

“Now we both lie back on your pillows, get under the blankets.”

“What about shoes?”

“Right. Shoes. Very practical. Glad one of us handles the details. See? This is what makes me a terrible Virgo.”

“You nervous?” He slowly undid the zipper to her ankle boot, easing it off, giving her toes a squeeze before proceeding to the next boot. Her stomach muscles clenched. This guy would give amazing foot rubs; she knew it.

“A little, but in a good way.”

He considered her. “You’re strange.”

“And you are terrible at giving compliments.”

He chuckled at that, tossing her boots on the floor and pulling back the blankets, tucking her in.

“Aren’t you getting in too?”

“For my sanity, I’d rather have this as a barrier.” He tugged on the thick comforter, “Otherwise, I’ll never fall asleep.”

“Am I that hard to resist?” She batted her lashes with a faux-seductive voice.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.” But he sounded happy or at least not angry, which was a change. And for not being a cuddler, he had an excellent way of putting his arm around the hollow of her waist and spooning her against him. Was the rumbling sound the blood still racing through her veins, or even his veins?

“What is that noise?” she asked.

“The falls. Castle Falls.”

“You live that close to them?”

He gave a single nod.

“Will you take me to see them?”

He smoothed back her hair. “How about tomorrow?”

The warmth of his suggestion cooled under a dose of reality. “Tomorrow I have to do something, but soon.”

“It’s a date.”

Something about the way he said the word made her thighs clench. “A date?” She turned and traced a small circle on the end of his nose. “I’d like that.”

“You would?” He pretended to bite her finger.

She cupped his cheek and kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t sound so shocked that a person might like you, Wilder Kane.”

Chapter Nine

WILDER COULDN’T SLEEP. Quinn gave another cute little sigh but he couldn’t drift away with the prosthetic on. He needed to take it and the stump’s shrinker sock off. If she glimpsed his body, she would pity him. He’d faced enough—no point breaking the last spindly straw of his pride. As much as he hated leaving her, it was better if he crashed in the guest room. That way he could set his alarm early, be showered and dressed before she woke. Before she could see.

He pulled away, jaw clenching as she let out an unconscious whimper of protest. How many people had ever missed him when he’d left their beds? No one. That had always been his goal with women. Use them and let them use him in turn. A physical release was fine. Emotions? Hell no.

He sat and, in the distance, the waterfall laughed. Go ahead, let the water have its fucking snigger. It wasn’t as if it would get to run wild and free to the ocean. Soon it would be rerouted, sucked into some aqueduct to feed the insatiable, thirsty millions in Southern California. In a week this water would be irrigating a rich man’s putting green, then who’d be laughing?

He scrubbed his face.

Is this how hermit madness began? Talking to inanimate objects?

He fumbled for his cane, wincing as it scraped the floorboards, but Quinn must be a sound sleeper. A good thing because it wasn’t as if he could tiptoe. At first he’d balked at the idea of a two-bedroom cottage, thought one room would suit him plenty. He didn’t plan on having company and didn’t want to give Archer or Sawyer any excuse to stick around and play nursemaid.

But it came in useful tonight.

He got to the spare room, turned on the lamp and stripped off his sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. His cock poked like a hard and insistent bastard against his boxer briefs but he wasn’t going to be able to get any relief with his own poor hand tonight. Loneliness took hold, made it hard to breathe. For once, he didn’t crave release. What he wanted was connection.

He’d gotten the prosthetic and compression sock off when the floorboards creaked. Quinn had ten toes perfect for quiet movement.

“What are you doing?” he snarled at her outline in the doorway, acutely aware he was exposed, his stump on display to ruin everything.

“I rolled over and you were gone,” she whispered. Her eyes weren’t fixated on his leg. For some reason she stared at his chest.

His back muscles tightened as his ears grew hot. “Go away.”

Instead she came closer.

“Dear God, do you bench press sequoia logs or something?”

“Huh?”

“Seriously.” She licked her lips. “How do you have such an amazing body? You’re like a statue or something. I used to keep a D encyclopedia under my bed, to check out Michelangelo’s David and—”

“Please, go. I can’t stand it.” He sank his hands into the blanket, a freight train running through his head.

“You are beautifully made, don’t you know that?” She bent, bracing her hands on his thighs and lowering herself down to her knees.

He made himself well acquainted with the area where the opposite wall met the ceiling. “You’ve got a sweet-looking mouth for a liar.”

“I speak the truth. I don’t want a one night stand,” she said, “but I also can’t deny that I want you. Badly.”

His muscles coiled as tightly as springs.

“Can you please look at me?” she whispered.

“Can’t.” It was all he could say with his throat in a vise.

She was quiet a moment. From this room he couldn’t hear the falls, but the memory of the laughing water echoed in his skull. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Wilder. You’re trembling.”

Shit. He was. Toss another log on the pyre. Tonight this woman was going to burn him alive and he didn’t mind a bit.

“Is it this?”

He jerked as she touched his leg, stump, whatever you wanted to call the useless appendage.

“Your injury isn’t an issue for me,” she murmured. “You survived a terrible accident. I’m sorry for what you suffered. But that doesn’t subtract anything from who you are, the man I see.”

He snorted. “Man? I’m not a man anymore.”

She reached, her fingers tracing his chest hair. “You look plenty manly from where I sit, just saying.”

Her damn hand kept moving, down over his chest, his gut tightening as she reached his navel, the place where the hair began again, the thick arrow, an unsubtle guidepost.

She reached the elastic of his boxers and stopped. “I won’t go further unless you say it’s okay.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Right now I feel like the seducer.”

He seized her with a groan, lifting her easily, falling back on the mattress and carrying her with him. It was short work to get off her shirt. Her jeans were a little trickier. They were tight, which was good and meant she had to shimmy her hips to get them lower, which was better.

He groaned and clasped her ass, the little scrap of lace doing not much more than framing the high perfect swell of her ass.

“I don’t have a condom,” he rasped.

“I’m on birth control.” She kissed him again. “But we’re barely acquainted.”

“Never mind, I can make you feel good in other ways.” He ran his thumb down the center of her panties. No hiding the wetness. No hiding anything. Her entire body was a live wire. She trembled against him and he shuddered once.

“Wait.” She jerked up, shoving hair from her face. “I forgot. I have a condom in my purse. For emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“I was a Girl Scout—always come prepared. It’s stashed in my first-aid kit. I have a pocket-sized one.”

“In case you get a cut, need a Band-Aid and then a fuck to make things better?”

She narrowed her gaze in mock ferocity. “Listen, buddy, I saw this whole survival show on cable. Condoms can hold water. You can even make slingshots.”

“Slingshots?”

“Or a blow-up friend if you’re stranded. Draw a face on it, you know, like Tom Hanks did with Wilson during that one island movie.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned. “Now I’m hard and thinking about Tom Hanks with that beard.”

“Hey now.” She gave his chest a shove. “He was pretty great in The Shawshank Redemption.”

“You mean The Green Mile?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand as if flapping away pesky details. “Still a movie about prison and sads, right?”

“They are nothing alike.”

“I’m really messing this up, huh?” She scrubbed her face. “We’re supposed to be having hot monkey sex and instead I’ve got us discussing Tom Hanks. Need to share any deep thoughts on Big? Splash?”

“When you get back . . .” He gave her a long lingering kiss. “We’re talking less, deal?”

“Got it.”

Another kiss, short this time, but deeper. “Not that I don’t like talking to you.”

“No, no. Right, I get it. I like talking to you too. But this is about getting down.” She waggled her brows. “Got a one-way ticket to dirty town.”

He picked her up and deposited her onto the ground, giving the side of her ass a playful slap. “Go on, trouble-maker.”

“Going, going.” She fled the room.

Fuck. He was laughing. When had he ever laughed? Especially with a woman?

His dick throbbed. He was more turned on than he’d ever been and as much as it was disturbing, it also felt disturbingly right.

She came back and looked around. “Is it gone?”

“What?”

“The mood.”

“I’m not sure what we had could be classified as mood.”

“Atmosphere?” She jutted her hip.

His cock twitched. “Let’s get you out of what’s left of those clothes and see how much oxygen is left over.”

She climbed up on the bed, passing him the condom. “Want to know a secret? You’re sort of fun.”

He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad Kit stranded me,” she said through his fingers.

“We can send him a dozen roses.” His eyes rolled back in his head when she skillfully sucked his finger.

She took one more down before pulling back and biting her lower lip.

He tore open the foil and sheathed himself. “I haven’t done this in a while. And not since . . .”

“Hey.” She settled a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Hey, be with me. Right now all I see is your face. And all I feel is this.” Her other hand encircled him at the root, guided him home.

He didn’t even have to push. She was more than ready and, fuck, so was he. Too ready. One thrust and he had to close his eyes, stop, and breathe. “Need a second.”

“Take your time,” she gasped, rocking a little from side to side. “You’re a lot more than what I’m used to.”

He had a fleeting moment of hating anyone who’d ever been there before, touched this woman, heard her make this same gasp. But then she leaned up, her soft lips brushing his, and nothing more mattered because for once he existed fully in the present. No past. No future. He wasn’t even a fucking hermit. He was here buried inside this gorgeous woman and while it was a little awkward and his balance needed some adjustment, his arms were strong and he could keep his weight off her to concentrate on the in-and-out slide. She clenched those long legs around his waist and it was like a little slice of heaven was served with a fucking cherry on the top.

Her fingers raked down his back and he jerked, plunging deeper, spreading those long legs wider. Shit. The world was dissolving to this single point of contact, the hard rhythmic breaths. Their gazes locked and he was lost, hypnotized. He dragged his tongue over her neck, the pulse echoing in his cock. It had never been this way, rough yet soft. Tender even. Shit, he was going to get there too fast. He ground against her mons and she bowed too. Thank God. He wouldn’t go alone. He did it again, increasing the friction. “Like that?”

She didn’t answer but the way her jaw tightened, that low shallow whimper, told him she did.

“Say yes.”

“Yes.” She moaned the word.

His balls squeezed with hot, tight pleasure, edging him closer. “Say my name.”

“Yes, Wilder. I love it.”

The pleasure sharpened, took on a dark edge, and she began to contract around him, pulsing, milking, and everything was too good. Fuck it, incredible. His abs flexed, ass clenched, and with a primal groan and one last mad kiss, he joined her on the other side.

Afterward, he rolled onto his side, clasping her close, not wanting to sever the lust-drunk connection, not when everything felt exactly right. “Jesus, I didn’t even have enough time to bust out any big moves.”

“Wait. You’ve got bigger moves than that?” She cocked a brow, pushing a damp lock of hair off her forehead. “I guess the rest of you is big but whoa. Go on, pray, share your big move.”

“What I really want is to go down on you, savor every goddamn glorious inch.” Even as he said it his mouth watered. She’d taste amazing, strong, bright, and tangibly addictive as the rest of her.

She traced a bead of sweat trickling down his chest.

He cupped her cheek. “You aren’t impressed?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She rolled, nestling closer with a grin. “I’m sure I’d like it, correction—love it. One teensy problem though, I’m not sure if I’m in a great position to get into a relationship with anyone.”

Despite her words, she still threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him in for another kiss, one that started to harden his exhausted cock. Her tongue was sweet but tasted of falsehoods.

“That’s good,” he muttered before deepening the kiss. “Because I don’t do relationships myself.”

At last she broke away, breathing faster than she had a few minutes ago. She pressed her cheek against his and gave a tentative grin. “This is a big mistake, isn’t it?”

“Huge.” One that felt like it could change his whole world, and just maybe for the better.

Chapter Ten

TWO THOUGHTS COLLIDED in Quinn’s head the moment she woke up: (1) It felt damn good to be wrapped in Wilder’s big strong arms and (2) the fact they had used up her one emergency condom was a national tragedy because she wanted more, more, more, like Susan Sarandon in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. How could she ever get enough of this man?

She stretched her legs, smiling at the delicious soreness radiating between her legs before a third thought wandered in, late to the party.

Today is test day.

Great. Thanks, third thought. Way to ruin the moment.

Stupid brain.

She had to get to the hospital lab by nine-thirty for a blood draw, the one that would reveal if she too would develop Alzheimer’s at a young age, just like Dad. Fifty-fifty odds meant she didn’t know where to place the bet. All red? All black?

It wasn’t mandatory. She didn’t have to find out. But the Virgo in her wanted to plan, needed to know because even if this was a worst case scenario, maybe she could live her life to the fullest without being plagued by nagging uncertainty. The exhausting what-ifs that slithered in when she was almost asleep or relaxing under a hot stream of water in the shower or brewing a pot of morning coffee.

Wilder responded to her stirring by nuzzling the side of her neck, his stubble prickling her flesh in a pleasant way. God, he felt good, but her instincts last night were right. This was a mistake. She was set to sail off into an uncharted ocean and no one else deserved to go along on that voyage.

“Morning,” she said, lifting his arm and wiggling away to freedom.

“Morning.”

Her feet hit the cold floor as her stomach sank at his stiff tone. There was a wall between them again. As much as she hated that it was there, this screw-and-scram behavior no doubt gave him ample cause to ramp up his defenses. Her throat tightened but no matter how fabulous last night was, leaving was for the best. Chalk this encounter up to a little one-time fling that helped provide much needed distraction.

“So I have to get going,” she said, tugging on yesterday’s clothes. Yeah, it was dodgy as heck to avoid his eyes, but if she didn’t, he’d see in her gaze that leaving was the last thing she wanted. Last night she rambled about making a Wilson condom and he still wanted to have monkey sex. If she let him in, they might spend the morning doing sock puppet shows interspersed with fellatio. Then he might go ahead and bust out that big move he kept alluding to and she’d never want to do anything but live life with her legs wrapped around his shoulders.

Better to stick to black and white though. Grey wasn’t really her color.

“I realized it’s not far to walk back into town.” She reached for her purse.

“Less than a mile.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sullenness dulled his gaze. “My keys are—”

“Truth circle? I want to get some exercise and clear my head a little. The last couple days have been out of the ordinary. And then all this.” She waved her hand at the empty space between them, plus the disordered bed sheets and tangled comforter. “I wasn’t looking for anything like this.”

He was a master of the humorless smirk. “So you keep saying.”

“Look, I know you weren’t either. We’re like two people walking fast with our heads down who ended up smacking into each other.”

“What we did felt a hell of a lot better than that.” He yanked on his own shirt and all those beautiful muscles were covered back up, but somehow that didn’t make it easier to bear because now she knew they were there. She knew what they felt like. God help her, what they tasted like.

“I have an appointment that I can’t miss in a few hours.” She buttoned and zipped her jeans, having to try twice because of her dang trembling fingers.

He gave her a closer look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry, honey.” The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “I’m calling bullshit.”

She tied her hair into a quick ponytail. If she was going to leave with post-sex bedhead, she owed him the truth. “Fine. Actually, no. I’m not okay. I’m not even orbiting in okay’s solar system. But I also don’t want to talk about it right now.”

He paused, eyes darkening, before giving a single nod. “Fine.”

“See you around then.” She turned to leave.

“Wait.” His tone was ragged.

She closed her eyes and grimaced. Why was it so hard to go? “Mm-hmm?”

“I’d like to see you again.” How did he make that voice, all rough and snarling, have such a tender bite?

She tried to arch an eyebrow, go for casual, even as her mouth dried. “It’s a small town. I don’t have a Magic 8 Ball on me but your outlook is good.”

He shook his head, ignoring her lighthearted tone. “You know that’s not what I mean, Trouble.” His smile was dry, but hey, it was a start.

“Trouble?” He’d called her that before.

“That’s your new name. You’re welcome.”

“Good trouble or bad?”

“Depends on the situation.” That wolfish look he gave her. God, she was ready to drop her drawers again. Time to run before she sent her better judgment packing for a one-way vacation on a remote tropical island.

He cleared his throat. “I had a real good time with you.”

Those weren’t words of poetry, anything romantic, poignant, or even memorable. But the absolute sincerity in the words weakened her knees. Surely her better judgment would enjoy a mai tai and beach cabana.

The thought was dangerously tempting. This cottage did make a perfect love shack and—no! Retreat. Now. Don’t drag him into your medical drama-rama.

Sigh. Too true. Being a responsible adult was no fun but those were the apples.

“Me too. Okay. I’ll show myself out.” She patted her hair. The ponytail felt like a wild rat’s nest. She must look absolutely feral. “Goodbye, Wilder.” There wasn’t a clock in sight but she must have grabbed her coat and purse and been out the door in a world record time.

She walked up Castle Lane, her breath coming out in small white clouds as she puffed up the steepest bit. Add getting regular cardio to her “to do” list as well. Maybe a kettle ball. Or Zumba?

Or tantric sex?

After ten minutes she hit the stop sign at the top of the hill, where the freshly shoveled sidewalk began next to the Welcome to Brightwater sign. It was there that she finally allowed herself the luxury of two tears, one escaping out each eye before she swiped the rest away. No need to overspend her sorrow allowance. Time to pull the plug on the pity party. She didn’t want to medal in the Pain Olympics.

But really? Really, universe? She finally met someone she connected to, finally felt that indefinable spark she’d read about her whole entire life, and it was right now, when her life was a veritable shit storm.

“No fair!” She kicked a snowdrift, wincing as a cold wash of snow slipped into the top of her ankle boot.

Temper tantrums were pointless, especially as she might be unable to recall any of this in a few short years. She could forget all about this man, what he did, how she felt when near him. And suddenly that scared her more than anything.

WILDER GRIPPED HIS phone, pacing across the kitchen. Sawyer answered on the third ring.

“Kane.” His younger brother sounded distracted.

Wilder coughed into his fist. Maybe this was a bad idea. He wasn’t a guy known to give in to impulse. “It’s me. You busy?”

“What? No,” Sawyer said quickly. “I’m always here for you, man, just a bit sidetracked is all. There was another fire this morning at dawn.”

“Shit.” Wilder froze. “Where?”

“New place set up the hill from the old depot on the edge of town.” Sawyer didn’t elaborate but there was no denying this was a troubling development.

“Want to talk it out later?”

A pause. “You’re freely offering to have a conversation?” Incredulity crept into Sawyer’s stoic voice.

“Yeah, guess I am.” He cleared his throat. “And there’s another thing, the reason I called in the first place.”

“Shoot.”

“I want to go buy a new vehicle. An automatic. I’m sick of being stuck. I need to get out more.” After Quinn left this morning, he went out and chopped as much firewood as he could pile into the kitchen. Then he tried whittling and cut himself four times before he tossed the knife across the table, cursing his distraction. Something had shifted in him during the night. He didn’t know what, not exactly, but suddenly the four walls of this cottage felt too damn confining by half.

He wanted to get out in the world a little. It seemed like there was a hell of a lot that he might be missing.

“That’s good news, great.” Sawyer caught himself, tried to sound a little less eager. “About damn time.”

Wilder’s mouth quirked. “Don’t get any big ideas about hugging me or anything.”

“Course not. But this is me saying that I’m proud of you, big brother.”

“Hanging up now.” His cheeks flexed. Where had this full-blown smile come from? Quinn. Forty-eight hours ago he had nothing and now . . . what? As quick as it came, his beam faded.

Facts were still facts, stubborn bastards. This morning she couldn’t leave fast enough. You could almost hear the sound of burning rubber as she fled his house. But one thing niggled at him despite all his attempts at distraction: the look in her eyes the moment before she bolted, more regret than relief.

He should know. He’d seen that particular expression staring back in the mirror enough.

His features twisted into a glower as another thought whispered. Or was it pity?

“Fuck.” He tilted back his head and exhaled a drawn-out breath that came out closer to a growl. His guts were tied in an impossible knot.

Maybe he should tell Sawyer to forget it. Bid the memory of Quinn good riddance. Still, another stubborn part of him couldn’t deny the pleasurable chill he got every time Quinn so much as glanced in his direction.

Shit. He was in trouble, big trouble over this woman, but his instincts wavered between flight and fight.

But fight for what?

And how did she feel?

When did life get so damn confusing?

The tangled, mixed-up feelings remained well into the afternoon, even after he paid for a new 4Runner SUV, trading in the Jeep.

“Your ride handles well,” Sawyer said as they pulled out of the dealership. “Got to love that new car smell.”

“Yup.” Wilder turned onto the road, easing into traffic. There were three cars on the road, which meant it was busy out.

“Hungry?” Sawyer rested his elbow on the armrest. “Want to go grab a beer and burger at The Dirty Shame?”

“Don’t you have to get on home?” Annie and Atticus were no doubt waiting for him. He didn’t want to keep his brother from his new family.

“No one’s there. They went to San Francisco to visit Annie’s sister and do some holiday shopping.”

“Gotcha.” Wilder wasn’t all that hungry. Confusion killed his appetite. “How about you take me by the site of the morning’s fire?” Work would refocus him. It always did.

“Sure thing.” Sawyer fired off a few quick directions. “Same situation as last time. Empty place, but new, only built last summer. One of those McMansions, a five bedroom, three bathroom job.”

Wilder didn’t respond, just tightened his grip on the wheel. “You have a lot of unexplained fires in town?”

“Not really. These have been the first in a while. Why?”

“No reason.” Wilder stared straight ahead, ignoring Sawyer’s probing gaze.

“You’re not the sort to say anything without a reason.”

“Let’s have a look, then we’ll see what I have to say.” Wilder flicked on a country station, so music filled the cab and drowned out the silence.

They parked halfway up the driveway. The air still smelled of smoke even though the fire was out. The house was gutted. Wilder and Sawyer slammed the truck doors and walked the property line perimeter. Wilder left his stick in the car. The snow wasn’t too deep and he wanted the practice. His limp was pronounced but he managed to stay mobile and upright.

Small victories but he’d take them for once.

“This the garage?” he called out. Sawyer had stopped to survey the mountains. Place had a hell of a view, positioned to catch sunrise and sunset.

“Yes—a three-car deal. Owner said the place was empty. Think it could be faulty wiring again?”

“Nope.” Wilder walked forward, scanning the ground, kicking here and there at bits of char. Shit. There it was. His heart sank. “Come over here and take a look at this.”

Sawyer walked over. “What’s that?”

“Part of a sock.” Wilder brushed a light dusting of new-fallen snow from the perimeter. “That’s where the fire started. Didn’t the guys do a check?”

“The volunteers got it under control fast. I didn’t quiz them.”

“Should have.” He pointed. “See, someone started this, probably poured gasoline into a milk jug. Check out that bit of melted plastic too. The sock helped ignite it, burned like a wick.”

Sawyer squatted and whistled low. “Shit. You’re thinking arson.”

He mashed his lips together and thought a moment. “Yeah. I’d say the likelihood is pretty fucking good.”

“I’ll call the boys at ATF.”

“Good thinking. It’s not going to be easy to catch him. It’s usually a him by the way. But they’ll be of use helping to build a profile. We’ve had a couple arson cases in Montana over the years. A few were arrested but most eluded justice.”

“I’ll brief Leroy and Kit,” Sawyer said, referring to his deputies. “Request they keep a sharp eye out for any suspicious activity during their patrols.”

“Could be anyone.” Wilder hooked a hand over the back of his neck, rubbing the thick cords of tight muscle. “Don’t want it to be a place with people inside next time. Also, you might want to see if the gas station and Save-U-More will help keep track of who is buying two-gallon milk jugs.”

“Be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“True, but it’s a start at least. Could be a loner. Or someone seeking attention.”

They stared at the fresh cinder and ash. “You ever think about that one night?”

Wilder didn’t have to ask which night his brother referred to. He knew. The worst night of his life.

“I don’t remember any of it,” Sawyer said. “Weird, isn’t it? Like I should recollect something.”

“No,” Wilder replied firmly. “Consider it a very good thing.”

“Do you remember?”

Wilder shrugged, unable to face him.

“Shit, you do, don’t you?”

He wasn’t going to say he could still hear the deafening groan from when the roof caved in. The crash cutting off the scream. Their mother’s scream. He remembered the thick smoke cloud, clogging his lungs, burning his eyes. He remembered more too, from earlier in the night. How he couldn’t sleep because Dad had his weekly poker game, all the men were laughing too loud, drinking lots of beer. His brothers both fell asleep fast, but he’d tiptoed down the hall, peeked into his parents’ bedroom and saw Mom reading by lamplight.

He almost went in. She always went to bed with a book and didn’t mind giving him a snuggle. She’d rub his back, call him “my big beautiful boy.” She smelled like rose water and baby powder. But tonight he was curious about the men so kept going down the hall, perched on the top stair, listening to crass jokes he didn’t understand, followed by loud booming laughter.

Eventually, Mom turned off the light and the guys began to leave. He waited for Dad to stumble upstairs, scoop him up, tuck him in.

But he didn’t come.

So Wilder decided to find him.

“Hey, man.” Sawyer clasped his shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Wilder said, turning. That far-off night something happened to his soul. For a long time he thought it was burned away but the last few days revealed little shots of green in the black barren wasteland. But what if he didn’t have the right to regrowth? Hadn’t he lost the right to most everything good in this world?

He took Sawyer back to the station, dropped him off with a tense handshake. Next, he found himself driving slowly past A Novel Experience as if that might be a way to curb this restless sensation in his gut. Maybe he was a damn fool, but he couldn’t extinguish the small light inside him, fragile as candlelight that murmured, “Maybe.”

A woman walked by the bookshop window but it wasn’t Quinn. She was older, had long black hair, parted down the middle, and wore a flowing silk outfit that seemed to fit into the new Brightwater. Not so much the old. Things were changing around here. This wasn’t the hardscrabble Western town of his youth.