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He ran his hand over his face, looking out the bedroom window at their land. It was all he’d ever wanted. His own spread. A home. A wife and family.

He had it all.

Yet it was all coming apart.

Max sat on the side of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees, hanging his head. When had it all gone wrong? They were falling further and further in debt. They needed more help. They needed more money. More time.

What he really needed to focus on was Savannah. She needed him more than ever. Yet he had no idea how to help her.

His nightmares had started again. He guessed they’d been stirred up after what had happened to Savannah. During his time in the armed forces, he’d done and seen things he’d rather forget. Things that had a way of returning in his dreams.

He would have killed Stanton if Jake and Duncan, one of his deputy sheriffs, hadn’t stopped him. The rage that had come over him had been all-consuming. The only thing he’d seen was that asshole hurting the most important person in his world. He’d wanted to make him pay, to make certain he could never hurt her again. Duncan and Jake had pulled him off that bastard before he could go too far.

He should be grateful. But a part of him wondered if Savannah would feel better knowing Stanton was dead.

Would he?

He stood with a sigh.

She’d retreated into herself, and he felt like he had no idea how to get through to her. But if that’s what she needed to do to get by, then who was he to say she was wrong? They all had their own coping mechanisms.

Logan tinkered. Max worked. Savannah retreated.

He pushed the door open then strode down the stairs and out the front door. He should go check on Savannah but every time he saw her, a part of him died inside. Guilt ate away at him every time he looked at her, until looking at her become painful.

Jesus. What kind of a man was he? What sort of husband couldn’t even look at his own wife just because he felt guilty over not keeping her safe? Over not being able to provide for her?

“Where you going?” Logan looked over from where he stood by the tractor, dark fluid on the ground.

“What’s wrong with it?” Max barked.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Hose blew. Need a new one.”

“Of course, it does. Like every other fucking thing here.”

“Hey, what’s going on? Isn’t it your day to stay with Savannah?” Logan asked, storming towards him as Max climbed into the cab of his truck. He grabbed the door as Max went to shut it.

“I’ve got things to do.”

“Max, we need to talk about—”

“There’s nothing to fucking talk about.”

“Yeah, there is, and denying it won’t make it go away.”

“You’re one to talk,” Max sneered. “You’re the king of not wanting to talk about shit.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This is about Savannah. We need to figure out what to do.”

“I don’t know what to do! Maybe you should figure shit out for once without relying on me!” Max slammed the door shut and sped away. He glanced back to find Logan staring after him.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand down against the steering wheel.

Chapter Two

Max walked into the kitchen, raising his eyebrows as he saw Logan pull a roast from the oven. “What’s this?”

“Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn.”

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