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Nate was the only one of the hands who hadn’t taken off when I’d told them to go, and I could feel him hovering about twenty feet back. I turned to him. “Get me some ice and a towel?”
“Sure thing.” Without hesitation, he ran back for the kitchen in the barn.
I pushed to my feet, careful as I lifted Evelyn, and I carried her shaking form the rest of the way around the trail to where I’d parked my truck in front of the house.
Nate was already running up to us by the time I was loading Evelyn inside. I secured her in the booster Caleb had only left for emergencies.
This qualified, right? I sure as heck hoped so. At least my gut told me this was what I needed to do, even though I was pretty sure he was going to kill me, anyway.
I set the ice on her wrist. “Hold it right there.”
She nodded, her face pinched and a mess, dust covering her head to toe.
I shut her door, then turned to Nate.
“Would you mind staying with her for a second? I need to grab my keys and some documents Mr. Greyson left.”
“Of course, Paisley. Anything you need,” Nate assured me.
“Thank you.” I turned and ran inside, boots clomping as I bounded upstairs to retrieve the folder Caleb had left with a document saying I could seek medical care for Evelyn. The second I had it, I darted back downstairs and grabbed my keys and wallet where I’d left them on the entry table.
I’d done it just to muck up the order a bit.
Racing back out, I tapped out a message to Caleb in response to the five I’d had in the last ten minutes since I hadn’t immediately responded earlier.
Me
Change of plans. Evelyn is okay, but she had a little accident. I’m taking her to the urgent care in town to get her checked out. Meet me there.
“Thanks, Nate,” I said as I whipped open my door and hopped inside.
Then I set a reassuring hand on Evelyn’s forearm, the words thick when I forced them out. “Listen to me, Evelyn. I want you to know you’re amazing and wonderful. Kind and smart and beautiful in every way, and you’re going to be okay.”
She would be.
I knew she would.
But I also worried it might be the last time we’d be together this way.
Because I had a hunch that Caleb Greyson was never going to forgive me.
TWENTY-TWO
CALEB
SIX YEARS AGO
Rain drizzled from the gray-strewn sky. Cold oozed through his jacket and seeped to the bone where Caleb stood at the edge of the grave, surrounded by a drove of people dressed in black.
The gleaming gray casket streamed with droplets of water that dripped down into the open ground.
A giant spray of red roses lay on top as if it could disguise the stench of the man who lie inside. Conceal the truth of who he had been.
Kimberly squeezed Caleb’s hand tighter, as if she were seeking strength. Or maybe she was trying to offer it to him.
He wanted to receive it. Take this moment to end one chapter and start another.
Begin again.
His father’s voice echoed in his ear.
“It’s time for you to step into the spot you were always destined for. I worked my entire life to give it to you, the same as your grandfather did for me. Promise me, you will protect it. Everything we have built.”
“I promise,” he’d whispered where he’d sat at his bedside.
He’d promised. Made an oath.
One he knew he had to keep.
Caleb sat at the same desk where his father used to reign, staring at the news report on his phone.
A local small-business owner had been killed in an apparent botched robbery.
Caleb’s chest twisted and twined as he stared at the name.
Frank Aston.
Hot hatred curled through his being.
Botched robbery.
What fucking bullshit.
That was right when Kimberly burst into his office and tossed the stack of papers onto his desk.
“What is this?” she demanded.
Caleb rocked back in his chair, gritting his teeth as guilt clotted off the flow of oxygen.
Their father never should have brought her into this. Given her the position.
She’d been oblivious.
Innocent.
The way she should have stayed.
And now this had spiraled so much deeper. A line crossed that couldn’t be uncrossed.
He forced the casualness that he always wore, though it was underlined in coldness, never able to just speak the fucking truth. “It’s a contract.”
Kimberly’s brown eyes were wide with horrified disbelief. “I know it’s a contract, Caleb, but I want to know why you have it. I worked with that family for months to come to a deal, and they did not want to sell.” Her words came in short, hysterical gasps. “Mr. Aston’s great grandfather built that home, and his grandfather was born there. Mr. Aston had zero interest in selling. None whatsoever. And now he’s dead?”
