I’m aware that her death wasn’t my fault and yet I still blame myself.
Every what if screams at me in the silence: What if I’d answered her calls? What if I’d come home? What if I’d made time instead of assuming I had more? Instead of deciding it was some nonsense plot to make us a fucking family. The family she could never have because she . . .let it go, Ledger. She’s at peace and there’s nothing you can do.
I take a shaky breath, but it doesn’t help.
“I know. Don’t you think I fucking know that?” His pain mirrors my own, raw and exposed, but he buries it quickly, his jaw ticking. “It doesn’t matter what we know, Ledger. We didn’t show up when it counted, and now we’re the bad guys. That’s what people see. That’s what they’ll always see unless we show them differently.”
I look away, the ache in my chest spreading like wildfire. Mal presses on, his voice dropping lower. “I need you to remind the town why they loved Mom. Why they loved her family. We owe her that much.”
I scoff, bitter laughter escaping before I can stop it. “We’re stilltheTimberbridge boys, Mal. They hated Dad, and they sure as hell hated us for being his sons.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mal says firmly, his tone unyielding. “Mom wasn’t Dad. The town adored her, and that’s the only reason they won’t run us out. Focus on what I’m about to tell you.”
“Which is?”
“You can’t just fuck the new girl,” Mal says bluntly, pinning me with a hard stare.
I blink, narrowing my eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He exhales, and for the first time, there’s something vulnerable in his expression, like the next words physically hurt him. “She’s not just some random new girl, Ledger. She’s Dante Doherty’s long-lost granddaughter.”
That stops me cold. The name feels like a bomb dropping into the room.
“Galeana Monroe is his granddaughter?” I repeat, disbelief heavy in my voice. “Weren’t they looking for the runaway daughter six months ago?”
“They were,” Mal confirms. “They found out she died and spent months tracking down her kid. Galeana’s the heir.”
“So, what, you’re the sheriff and town gossip now?” I ask, not bothering to hide the bite in my tone.
“No,” he says evenly. “I . . . I just need you to keep an eye on her. Stay away, but make sure no one fucks with her or the inheritance.”
I laugh, the sound hollow. “You’re kidding. I came here to deal with Old Birchwood Timber, not babysit some out-of-towner with a chip on her shoulder.”
“She’s not just any out-of-towner,” Mal says, his tone sharp with warning. “She’s about to inherit Maple Haven. Sure, I need you to figure out how to save Old Birchwood Timber—it’s Mom’s legacy—but do me a favor and keep an eye on Galeana.”
I let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow and biting. “How about this: I sell the fucking company and ditch this town forever.” I step closer, my voice dropping as I jab a finger at him. “Just like you did when you turned eighteen. You fucking ditched us.”
Mal’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow. “As I recall, you left too—at sixteen.”
I scoff. Seriously, he thinks it’s the same? I was the last one. He had been gone for years when I left. But instead of saying that, I say, “It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Hockey was my life, Mal. At least when people hit me, it was for a reason—a puck. Not because our father was a drunk piece of shit who thought we made good punching bags.”
Mal flinches, but he hides it well, his face unreadable. “I had to leave before . . .” He trails off, his gaze dropping, and for a second, there’s something raw there, something he doesn’t want me to see.
“Before you couldn’t become some fancy FBI agent?” I finish for him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How did that turn out, by the way? Oh, wait. You did it—you became one. And yet, here you are, back in this shithole, playing small-town cop with a power trip.”
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he exhales slowly, his hands on his hips like he’s trying to keep his cool. “You think this is easy for me? Coming back here? Living in this town with all those fucked up memories. Seeing Mom’s things everywhere, knowing we all failed her?”
I feel my throat tighten, but I shove it down, crossing my arms tighter. “We didn’t fail her, Mal. She was stubborn about everything and if you recall, she fucking failed us first. Sure, I regret not coming when she called but . . . she never came to us when we begged for mercy. Keir, Hopper . . .she abandoned us first.”
That lands between us like a grenade, the silence after almost deafening. For a second, I swear I see something flicker in his eyes—guilt, regret, maybe both—but then it’s gone, replaced by the same stoic mask he always wears.
“Regardless,” he says once he recovers, “I need you to stay in line while you’re here. No distractions. No fucking around. Especially not with Galeana Monroe.”
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall with a smirk. “You’re really hung up on her, huh? What’s the deal? She your new favorite charity case? You want to fuck her?”
I hope not because I’d have to kill him.
“As I said, she’s Dante Doherty’s granddaughter,” he snaps, his tone sharp. “And she’s inheriting Maple Haven. Which means she’s about to be one of the most important people in this town, whether she likes it or not.”
