Page 283 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“So let’s end this quietly,” Nate said. “We’ll do everything we can to keep the worst of this away from Derek and the press.”

Tears rained down Thomas’s cheeks. “Fucking Evan has destroyed us all! Everything I’ve worked for. Our legacy.”

Callie struggled to understand Thomas’s ramblings as Matthew inched her closer to the cover of a large oak tree. Then time stopped, each beat of her heart echoing in her head, as Mac and Denny approached by Nate’s and Henry’s sides and Thomas moved the gun to point it at his own temple.

“No!” Nate and Henry shouted in unison, both of them firing their weapons, shooting Thomas in the leg, knocking him to the ground.

Callie screamed and jumped back, covering her ears in defense against the deafening sound as Nate dove into the snow, shoving the gun farther out of Thomas’s reach with his hand. Before she could blink, Henry and the deputies were swarming in, securing Thomas as he yelled in agony, and Matthew was rushing to his brother’s side. She settled her weight against the tree trunk, afraid she would fall, and met Nate’s gaze as he scrambled to his feet and closed the distance between them, picking her up and hugging her tight.

“My God, Callie. My God,” he muffled against her hair.

“Nate.” She returned his embrace, breathing him in, trying her best not to cry, but she lost the battle, letting go of the last several minutes of pure terror. “You’re okay? You’re all right?”

“I’m not worried about me.” He eased her back. “You’re wet. Cold.”

She shivered, nearly uncontrollably again. “I want to go home. I want us to go home.”

Nate glanced toward his dad and deputies handling Thomas’s care.

“We’ve got this, son. Get her out of here before it gets too dark to see.”

“Come on.” Nate cradled her against his body, his warm breath heating her temple as they headed through the wind and snow, closer to the place she loved best.

~~~~

Nate held Callie on his lap while they sat by Molly’s bedside in the clinic’s tiny ER. He kept Callie clutched close against him, combing his fingers through her hair while she slept deeply, using his shoulder as her pillow. She’d long since changed her clothes and warmed up, and the one scrape across her cheek had been cleaned and bandaged. Her knee would need a couple weeks of rest and plenty of ice, but otherwise she was fine. It was Molly who’d taken the brunt of Thomas’s wrath—a huge, nasty goose egg close to her temple and a mild concussion. Nate studied the screen monitoring his sister’s vitals while she rested, and he breathed in the scent of Callie’s shampoo, his stomach still a mess every time he thought of the what-ifs—of how badly the whole night could have ended.

His phone alerted to another text—Shawn keeping him up to date with what was going on at the sheriff’s station.

Officially processed and settled in their cells.

Thanks, he typed back, glad that he wasn’t there—that his family needed him more. He was the sheriff but his deputies were plenty capable of collecting pedigree information, fingerprinting, and photographing the men he’d loved and trusted his whole life.

Brad pulled back the curtain, wearing one of Matthew’s white coats over the khaki slacks and green button-down outfit he’d had on at the Thanksgiving table.

Nate studied his best friend’s pale, drawn face—his eyes that had been haunted since they found Molly unconscious in the snow several hours ago. “How’s Thomas?”

“Stable. Sedated.” He sat on the edge of Molly’s mattress and shoved his hand through his hair. “Handcuffed to the bed.”

Nate sighed. “I’m sorry about that, man.”

Brad shrugged. “Every time I make eye contact with Mac standing guard outside Dad’s room, he says the same thing. I think he’s up to twenty or thirty apologies.” He crossed his arms. “Your dad’s still sitting in with mine.”

Nate nodded, understanding his father and Thomas’s lifelong loyalty—friends no matter what. Even when one friend had lost their damn mind and the other had been forced to fire a bullet through their leg.

Brad huffed out a breath and shook his head. “I keep waiting to wake up—for all of this to be some sort of bad dream.”

Nate nodded again. “I’m trying to wrap my head around all of it myself.”

“What’s going to happen to them—my uncles?”

Nate sighed. “Matthew and Evan will head over to the mainland Monday—have their arraignments. With your family’s connections and bankroll behind them, they’ll probably be able to bond out.”

He nodded. “What are they looking at—timewise?”

“Evan’s probably looking at voluntary manslaughter—maybe involuntary if his lawyers can plead it down.”

“And Matthew?”