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The drinking. The fighting. The small bar fights. The big bar fights.
And finally, the afternoon at the Wolf Den that changed everything…
“You’ve been home for a few days now?” Trey asked his twin, wanting to find out about McKenna and not sure how because Troy hadn’t brought her up, nor had he mentioned TJ, and Troy always talked about the five year old, wanting to keep Trey in the loop.
“A week.”
“What’s it like without Dad around?”
“Quiet.” Troy hesitated. “It’s just Dillon there at the ranch, you know. I’m still dividing my time between San Francisco and Marietta, and when I am here, I’m usually at The Graff.”
“Things still good with your little librarian?”
“Yeah.”
“Wedding date set?”
“We’re talking February, maybe around Valentine’s Day since we were paired up for that ball. But things are kind of hairy at work and I’m honestly not sure a February wedding would be the best thing.”
“How hairy is hairy?”
“Got hit with a big lawsuit. It should sort out but its damned expensive and time consuming until then.”
“Then wait till it’s settled to marry. No sense being all stressed out over a wedding.”
“I agree.” Troy tapped his hand on the steering wheel and then exhaled. “There are some other things going on, too. Family things.” He shot a quick glance in Trey’s direction. “Dad was a real bastard when it came to Mom.”
“That’s not news.”
“He had an affair with Bev Carrigan. A long affair.”
Trey said nothing.
Troy increased the speed on the windshield wipers. “Mom probably knew. Or found out.”
Trey had heard enough. He’d only just been out a couple hours. He wasn’t ready for family conflict and drama. “They’re all gone now, and the past is the past. Maybe it’s time to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Except they’re not all gone, and it’s not just the past.” Troy flexed his hands against the steering wheel again. “Because there is something else going on—”
“Another affair?”
“No, but with Callan.” Troy shot him a swift glance, brow creased. “When her dad passed, he didn’t leave the place to her. Or any of them.”
“What?”
“There’s some talk in town—just gossip at this point—that maybe he wasn’t their biological father—”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, why didn’t he leave the Carrigan ranch to his kids?”
“I don’t know. But Callan must have been pretty broken up. She loves that place.”
Troy was silent a moment. “I think Dillon knows something, too, but he’s not saying.”
“Those two friends again?”
“More friendly than friends. While you were gone they became drinking buddies. Every Friday night you can find them at Grey’s, playing pool and shooting the shit.” Troy’s lips curved. “Dillon practically lives at Grey’s on the weekends.”
“He’s not driving back to the ranch drunk, is he?”
“Usually he finds a warm bed in town, along with an even warmer woman.”
“Our Dillon is a player.”
“He’s certainly enjoying being a bachelor.”
“No little Sheenans on the way?”
“None that I’ve heard about.” Troy leaned forward, turned up the music and then halfway through the Martina McBride Christmas song turned it back down. “There’s something else I’ve got to tell you.”
Trey glanced warily at his brother. “Brock got cancer?”
“Um, no. Thank God.” He sighed. “But it’s not going to make you happy.”
Trey stiffened. “No?”
“It’s McKenna.”
Trey held his breath.
“I didn’t know how to tell you, or when to tell you, but seeing as you’re out today, now, you’re going to need to know.” Troy’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “McKenna is getting married tomorrow.”
They drove another mile in deafening silence, snow pelting the car and windshield. Trey stared out the window blindly, seeing nothing of the Tobacco Root Mountains and Three Forks before them. Instead he fought wave after wave of nausea. McKenna getting married….McKenna marrying tomorrow…
Unthinkable. Impossible.
His stomach rolled and heaved. He gave his head a sharp shake. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose her now, not after waiting four years to make things right.
“Hey, Troy. Pull over.” Trey’s deep voice dropped, cracked. “I’m going to be sick.”
Chapter Two
‡
These weren’t butterflies McKenna was feeling. They were giant wildebeests swarming with flies. So no, she wasn’t nervous. She was terrified.
Not terrified of marrying Lawrence, but terrified that if she didn’t marry him, the rest of her life would be just as hard as it’d been the first thirty-three years.
She was ready to lose the Douglas off her name. Ready to no longer be that tragic McKenna Douglas who’d lost five of her immediate family members as a not-quite-fourteen year old in the Douglas Home Invasion Tragedy nineteen years ago. People spoke of it like that, in newspaper headlines.
She was ready to stop being the brave girl folks hovered over, worrying about, petting, protecting to the point that McKenna couldn’t show fear or anxiety or everyone would hover more and worry more and suffocate her with the worrying that changed nothing, and the hovering that made it impossible to breathe. The only one who never hovered and worried was Trey and she’d loved him for it.
And hated him.
But that was neither here nor there. He was the past and today she was stepping into a bright new future as Mrs. McKenna Joplin, Lawrence Joplin’s wife.
She was more than ready to relinquish the title of ‘devoted single mom’. Of course she was devoted, she was a mother. And yes, like all moms, she tried to be a great mom, but she was ready for a partnership, ready for a daddy for her boy, and a warm, kind loving husband to help carry the burden…emotionally, physically, financially.
Lawrence would be a great partner, friend, and father for TJ, and just minutes from now she’d be walking down the aisle, joining Lawrence at the altar. But my God, the butterflies…
The wildebeests…
They were bad. She was shaking. She was this close to throwing up.
From joy, not nerves.
And okay, maybe a little bit of nerves and exhaustion thrown in there, too, as TJ had spent the last week sick with a virulent flu and she’d been up wit
h him, night after night, fussing over his temperature, holding him as he heaved into the toilet, measuring out thimblefuls of fever reducer and pain killer since his five year old body ached and ached so that her normally busy and bright boy was a whimpering tangle of arms and legs against her.
She loved that boy to distraction. Some said she loved him too much. But how could you ever love a child too much? Children needed love…tons and tons of love. And fortunately, TJ was better—bouncing back the way five year olds do—and at this very moment, tearing away with her brothers in the groom’s dressing room. Even better, she hadn’t come down sick, herself, so everything was good.
Everything was fantastic.
Which was why her eyes burned a bit, and her heart thudded. The only thing that could make today perfect was if her mom and dad could have been here, and Grace, Gordon, and Ty…
There were days where she didn’t think about them, those who died at the house that day, and then there were days she couldn’t forget them. Today was one of them. But then, it was natural for a bride to wish her mom was there to help her dress, and her dad was there to walk her down the aisle…
She blinked hard, quickly, holding back the emotion even as the door to St. Jame’s bridal dressing room opened, and the delicate light bright strains of Vivaldi reached McKenna, the organist continuing to make her way through the prelude play list, and then the heavy oak door closed behind Paige Joffe, silencing the music.
“The church is full,” Paige said, hands on her hips. “The flower girls are in place. The bouquets are in the foyer. All we need is you.”
McKenna nodded and reached up to wipe beneath her eyes to make sure they were dry. “I’m ready.”
But Paige heard the wobble in McKenna’s voice and was immediately at her side, ruby red bridesmaid dress swishing. “What’s wrong, Kenna?”
McKenna shook her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No!” McKenna’s voice rose, horrified. She didn’t have cold feet. Her nerves weren’t cold feet. Her nerves were an accumulation of emotion. Fear, hope, love, loss, longing.
