“With my mom.” Parker runs a hand over his face. “Can you tell us what the hell is going on?”
Memphis jots down his answer. “And you just got back to town, correct?”
“Yes,” I answer, my patience slipping. “What happened?”
Memphis shoves the tiny notebook into his pocket before he delivers the most unexpected news.
“Rhodes McDowell was found dead in his rental.”
My heart drops.
“What?” I gasp.
“His agent couldn’t get a hold of him since the night he was released. Called us for a welfare check. He was found this morning.”
My hand comes up to my mouth. “I…oh my God.”
“I wanted to come tell you in person as a courtesy. Also because his cause of death is still under investigation. Our medical examiner is looking into it.”
Parker reaches up to drag a hand up and down my arm. “We appreciate you coming all the way out here.”
He nods. “Not a problem. Questions about your whereabouts are nothing to be alarmed about. Given you had an altercation with him and she filed a restraining order, it’s just basic police work.”
I think I’m in shock. I feel numb.
I clear my throat. “I, uh…thank you.”
“Not a problem. If there are any new developments, I’ll let you know.” He goes to leave but turns back to us. “Make sure Ryder is getting enough sleep. He looks like shit.”
Ryder flips him off as we watch him climb into his SUV, then back out of the drive.
I wait until his taillights disappear before I turn to face my brother. “This is the only time I will ask.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Did you hurt him?”
Maddox rolls his shoulders back, clearly not surprised I asked. “No. I didn’t hurt him.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay then.”
I hold in the urge to cry when relief washes over me at the fact that he’s gone. But then guilt hits in equal measure. He lost his life. And what kind of person does that make me if I’m not even sad about it?
Chapter forty-eight
Parker
I roll over, my hand reaching for Laiken, but all I find is an empty bed. Slipping out from beneath the covers, I cross the room, stopping to fix a blanket bunched at Trace’s feet. He’s ventured to the couch now, claiming a real man can’t sleep with his momevery night. He added something about acowboy cardI knew nothing about. I run a hand over his hair, his eyes fluttering in his sleep.
Moving to the window that overlooks the barn, I peer out to see Laiken at Sugarfoot’s stall, cloaked in my hoodie. The clockon the microwave reads 2:46 a.m., so I slide on a long-sleeved shirt before venturing downstairs.
When I get to the bottom, a low hum filters through the empty barn. I recognize the tune. “Silent Night”.
I approach the stall, hanging my forearms over the railing.
“I sang that song every night to Trace when he was a baby,” Laiken says, not facing me but acknowledging my presence. She keeps stroking Sugarfoot’s mane, contemplating. “What if he hears rumors? Grows up having to hear all the terrible things about his dad?” She runs her fingers over Sugarfoot’s neck. “What if he’s already traumatized? What if I can’t be what he needs?”
My hands work the latch, and I step down into the stall. “Come here.”
When she’s finally in my arms, I rest my lips against her forehead before I speak. “He may be young, but Trace is smart. He knows what’s right and wrong. He knows what love is because you taught him.”
Her shoulders shake with a light sob.
