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Even though muffled by the glass, he could still hear Ethel. “Get out and talk to us, Dylan Michael Strange. Right now.”
Refusal was not an option for him with those two apparently. He opened the door and stepped out, stretching to his full height, which placed him towering over them. Just the advantage he needed with such fearsome foes. Ethel and Gretchen were both in their seventies but they weren’t to be taken lightly.
“Why aren’t you over at Lover’s Beach, lad?” Gretchen said in her familiar British accent.
Figured the whole town knew his business now. He was getting lax. Too lax. “What do you know about that, ladies?”
Ethel shook her head. “I’m the county judge here, young man. I know everything.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that.” He wanted to smile, but didn’t. These women already had him at a disadvantage. He wasn’t about to add to that. “But you didn’t answer my question, Mrs. O’Leary. Neither did, Mrs. Hollingsworth.”
“Listen to the mouth on this one, Ethel.” Gretchen winked. “I say you get Jason over here as fast as you can and we lock the lad up for a few days. Teach him some manners.”
“Not a bad idea,” Ethel teased, and then turned to him. “Dylan, I love Erica like my own. She’s the sweetest, dearest girl in Destiny. She’s had so much to deal with long before the shooting in the tower and her recent kidnapping. You have your parents still. She doesn’t.”
“But you helped her through the loss of her parents, Ethel. You, Patrick, and Sam. The whole town did. Her light returned quickly, even quicker than the guys’ did.”
“Don’t judge the orphans, Dylan.” Ethel lowered her gaze to her hands. “That kind of loss never really goes away. The world is one way one day, and then it’s completely another way the next—changed for all time to come.”
“But Erica did get better,” he said, feeling his gut clench at the thought of Erica’s suffering, both past and present. “She will again.”
“Will she? You’re sure about that?” Ethel shook her head. “You’re a good judge of a person. You see through people’s façades, don’t you? So do I. Erica’s had darkness inside her for a very long time. I never could get her to open up about her pain, her loss. Maybe you can. She needs to face her demons.”
His heart thudded like a sledgehammer in his chest. “But what if my demons are worse? What if I’m worse? What if I make her worse?”
Gretchen grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Trust in the love you feel for her, Dylan.”
Ethel reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. “Love won’t fail you, and it won’t fail her. Now go. Get. I’ll call your mom and your Aunt Alice if you don’t. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”
“Pulling out the big guns, I see.” Dylan leaned down and ki
ssed both women on the cheek. He wasn’t a gambler, preferring to rely on likely outcomes and probabilities. But his feelings for Erica and his loyalty to his brother weren’t allowing him the clarity he so desperately needed.
“Dylan, I can see you need her as much as she needs you.” Ethel stepped back and fixed her sweet gaze on him. “Please, don’t fail my little Erica. Give love a chance.”
I want to do that more than anything.
“I’ll do my best,” he told them, but inside—deep inside—he wondered if going to Cam’s proper date with Erica was another step closer to utter failure and a total disaster that would leave all of them bloodied.
* * * *
Cam took a deep breath of relief as he saw Dylan’s car pull up beside his. “My brother is lucky,” he told Erica. They were both still on the blanket but had moved to sitting positions moments ago. “I was about to eat the rest of the mashed potatoes.”
“I’m glad he came,” she said softly. “I need to talk to both of you.”
Cam didn’t like her tone, so serious and foreboding. He didn’t like it one damn bit.
Dylan walked up to them, his fucking sunglasses affixed to his face, as per normal. “Sorry, I’m late. Got held up talking to Ethel and Gretchen before I could head out here.”
“I can bet what they wanted to say to you.” Erica swallowed the last of her wine. “Sit. Please. I need to tell you something.”
Cam saw her lips were quivering. “Baby, can’t we just enjoy the evening together? You’ve been through way too much—”
“Stop it,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out so harshly, but I don’t want to be treated like a porcelain doll that might break anymore. I’m already broken. You treating me with kid gloves isn’t helping the matter.”
Her pain slammed into him like a wall. “Okay, sweetheart. We’re here. Talk to us.”
Dylan sat down next to her. “We are here and listening. Tell us everything.”
