“Let me guess. They call you Hightower? Everest?”
That got a reluctant half smile out of him. “Sequoia, actually.”
Cort nodded. “Makes sense. I like it.”
“How about you?”
“Earnest—because I was always serious or some dumb shit like that.” Cort glanced toward the living room. “That was before I met Marlow, of course.”
“Happier now, huh?”
“Hell of a lot more content.” Cort leaned back on the counter, crossed his arms, and said, “This is going to be a problem, you know.”
Damn. Yeah, he’d known that was coming; Cort was too protective not to see the danger in the situation. “I have no idea how Ruth knew I was here, but I plan to find out.”
“How? I doubt asking her will do the trick.”
“Connie’s friend Erin might know. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“The point is,” Cort said, “she does know, and now that she’s tracked you down, I don’t see her letting up anytime soon.”
All Brogan could do was nod. In the region around his heart, a vast emptiness opened up, a place that had only recently begun to overflow with new, gentler emotions. A lot of emotions that he hadn’t expected.
All thanks to Pixie.
Knowing he had no choice, Brogan said, “I can pack up and leave tonight if that’s what you want. If not, I’ll take off in the morning.”
Cort eyed him. “That’s the wrong move, and not what I was saying.”
Not outright, no, but the suggestion was there. “It’s necessary. Ruth will be like a tsunami coming through this quiet little town. She’ll leave destruction in her wake. I assume when I leave, she’ll follow.”
“What does she want?”
“Money. Or maybe permission to stay in the house that Connieleft to me.” With a rough laugh, he said, “Possibly both. She and my father are in the house now. I haven’t made any moves to kick them out, but I guess she knows it’s coming.”
“You had other priorities.”
So many of them. “Connie’s friend Erin—a lawyer—is keeping track of everything for me. She’ll handle the legal end of things when it comes to the house.” A headache started rapping at his temples, maybe from the coiling tension in his neck muscles. He rolled a shoulder, trying to loosen up, but it didn’t help.
“Good idea. After seeing Ruth firsthand, I’d say the less you deal with her, the better.”
But would kicking her out gain him any peace? “The thing is, even if I signed the house over to them, I have a feeling Ruth would keep coming back.” It was almost funny that they had never wanted anything to do with him, yet now they saw him as financial aid, a quick way to gain a leg up. “Money only goes so far, and it’s not like Connie left behind millions. But to Ruth, anything I have should be hers instead.” Because he was a bastard. Because Brian had fathered him.
If he’d died in Africa with his brothers, would Ruth have rejoiced? Would his father have?
Their reactions didn’t matter when compared to what would have happened to Shayna, so he blocked the questions from his thoughts.
“First it will be the house, then cash. And always, she’ll threaten to come after me for Shayna.”
Cort snorted. “Did you see Marlow with that baby?”
Hell yeah, he’d seen her. She’d looked at the baby with undiluted love. What the hell was that? What kind of person greeted such a messed-up situation with so much gentleness? With acceptance? He frowned at Cort. “Gotta admit, it confuses me.”
“Used to confuse me, too. I remember standing back, taking it in.” He shook his head. “Pixie showed up here with Andy, so sick she could barely stay on her feet—no money, no resources, no one to call for help.”
Brogan hated the image that formed in his mind. “She’s so small.”
“True, even more so then because she’d been ill awhile. I still don’t know how she made it here—maybe with sheer grit and a mother’s determination to keep her baby safe.”
