“Ya think?” Rory glared at the road before them. “This is fucked up, man.”
“Yeah, tell me about it, but I plan to get to the bottom of it.”
Mitch opened the door and greeted both of them with a handshake and a half hug. Brock softened as soon as he saw his old friend. He and Mitch went way back. They’d spent endless summers working as counselors at the Colony family’s Cow Camp.
Prior to Mitch’s decision to marry Jordie Anne, Brock had believed Mitch was hopelessly devoted to Trixie. As it turned out, Brock was mistaken. Mitch had been desperate to right a wrong and save Jordie from the life he’d once introduced—an addiction to drugs.
“It’s really good to see you,” Mitch said, directing them to the wet bar. “Pour yourself a drink or help yourself to a beer. There’s a case in the fridge.”
“Apparently, you’ve been in town a while.” Rory pointed at a stack of laundry.
“About ten days,” Mitch admitted.
“Ten days,” Brock muttered, processing. “What have you been doing to pass the time?”
“Not much.”
“Not much, he says.” Rory took the opportunity to grab a beer from the refrigerator. “Anybody else want one?”
“Sure,” Brock replied, reaching for the longneck bottle.
“Not for me,” Mitch said. “I’ve drank myself drunk and silly a few nights in a row. I have a feeling the two of you aren’t here on a social call.”
“Why else would we be here?” Rory asked, twisting off the cap and sliding it in his front shirt pocket. He took a drag from his beer bottle. “We found out you were in town and rushed right over to see an old friend.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “How’d you find me?”
“Pete,” Brock replied.
“Ah, yeah,” Mitch drawled. “The Cartwell family’s eyes and ears.”
“You’ve upset Trixie,” Brock said, watching for a reaction.
“How?” Mitch asked, his skin turning an ashen color at the mention of Trixie’s name.
“She thinks she’s hallucinating,” Rory explained.
“Has she seen me?”
“You know damn well she’s seen you!” Brock’s anger rushed to the fore. Mitch had been in town for over a week and hadn’t bothered to contact them? He had no other choice except to view Mitch’s reasons for reentering their lives as highly suspect.
“What the hell were you thinking, man?” Rory asked. “Why didn’t you just act like a normal man and pay us a visit? Did it ever occur to you to knock on the door?”
Mitch’s gaze struck Brock’s like a flame. The familiar flare-up of the notorious Colony temper quickly emerged. “I fucking knocked a few times.”
“And then what?” Rory pressed. “You ran before anyone had time to find you on the porch?”
The room was suddenly quiet. Brock took the opportunity to inspect the place. Mitch’s accommodations weren’t lavish. In fact, the room he’d rented appeared standard with two double beds separated by a nightstand between them, a small dresser, and a table and chairs. Brock was surprised he hadn’t booked a stay at one of the area’s diamond-graded resorts.
“Look at the two of you leading perfect lives with the perfect woman at your side. Hell, you’re even raising the perfect little family with one boy and one girl. What more could you ask for, right?”
“You could’ve had precisely what we have. You’re the one who made your bed,” Rory reminded him.
“And I’ve had to lie in it!” Mitch yelled in an agonized voice. “Every. Damn. Day.”
“You chose to take responsibility for Jordie Anne,” Brock reminded him calmly. He refused to coddle Mitch’s conscience.
“I was responsible for what happened to her. Without me, she had no one.”
“She had no one with you. When you agreed to marry her, you knew you were headed to prison and Jordie would remain institutionalized.” Brock set his beer on the counter. “You even went as far as to tell Trixie you loved Jordie. She was your reason for living. Remember?”
“I told Trixie what I wanted her to believe so she could move on and live a good life with you.”
“And she has,” Brock grated out. “But you’re here to screw around with that happiness. Aren’t you?”
“No, Brock. I’m not.”
“Then what do you want?” Brock asked, stalking him. “What the hell could you possibly want now, Mitch? Wasn’t it enough that Jordie Anne nearly killed Trixie’s sister? Wasn’t it enough that she stalked the Cartwell women for months on end while you were behind bars, incarcerated by your own guilty admission and unable to do anything to reassure Jordie? In fact, you nearly taunted her. Didn’t you?”
“No.” Mitch’s denial sounded sincere. He wouldn’t own that guilt for whatever reason. Perhaps he didn’t realize he’d provoked a killer.
“No?” Brock grunted. “Well at least you’re learning. You won’t take blame and carry guilt on your shoulders now, huh? Prison taught you to keep a stiff upper lip if nothing else.”
“I killed Stephen Pratchert for her! If I hadn’t, he would’ve found a way to eventually send someone to finish what he’d started. Do you honestly think I could’ve taken another man’s life for any other reason other than to guarantee Trixie’s safety? Do you really believe I would’ve ended his life for anyone else? I killed to protect the woman I love.”
Brock sat on the edge of the bed. He realized then, he’d taken a seat because Mitch’s words were like a punch to the gut. “You just think you love her. You don’t even know her now.”
“I don’t know her?” Mitch scoffed at that. “I know her as well as either of you and that’s what kills you, Sheldon. You’re afraid of what she still feels for me.”
Brock snorted. “The hell I am. You’re no threat to me. I know what Trixie feels for me and for Rory.”
“The hell you do. If you were so certain, you would’ve brought Trixie with you today. But oh no, you couldn’t risk that. She’s at home keeping the kids and you’re here for one reason.”
Rory stepped forward. “And what is that reason exactly?”
“You want me to leave town without seeing her.” Mitch’s gaze jumped from Rory to Brock and back to Rory again. “And that ain’t gonna happen, boys.”
Brock splayed his legs and dropped clasped hands between them. He’d been afraid of this. That part was true. He’d feared Mitch would come in and destroy their happy lives. He represented a sliver of darkness, an air of uncertainty, and Brock didn’t want his family susceptible to the dangers his life had represented.
Mitch didn’t just have a dark cloud hanging over his head. He was the blackest of eerie skies.
“Mitch, prison changed you,” Rory said gently. “Jordie Anne played havoc on your life as well. We all know you cared for Jordie. We know you loved her. You loved Trixie, sure, but you loved Jordie enough to marry her.”
Brock wasn’t sure he agreed with Rory’s line of thinking entirely. He’d always been suspicious about Mitch’s reasons for marrying Jordie, and none of them had anything to do with love.
“If you try to reconcile with Trixie, what is it that you hope to accomplish?” Rory asked.
“I want her,” Mitch replied frankly. “I love her and it’s time she heard the truth.”
“And what about us?” Rory asked. “What about the men who’ve been beside her, the men who’ve given her two children? Mitch, man, you’re looking at the two guys who’ve been there.
“We were there to comfort her when you weren’t around, when you were behind bars dodging our phone calls, returning all letters marked ‘return to sender,’ and trying to be an absentee husband to that lunatic you called a wife. Where were you for Trixie then?”
A beat later, Rory added, “I know where you were physically, but I swear I don’t know where your mind was. You didn’t even attempt to keep in touch with us and we were your best friends. We’ve known you for twenty-six years, Mitch.”
“I never said I haven’t made mistakes,” Mitch said. “And I understand the two of you have been there for Trixie.”
“We have indeed—without conditions and without regrets, we’ve been beside her. We’ve watched her grow into this remarkable young woman, the mother of our children, the woman who has matured and thrived. Now here you are, telling us you want us to step aside and see if she still has feelings for you?”
“She does. Ask her.” Mitch looked damn confident.
Brock stood. “You can’t see her. Not right now. She’s too vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable?” Mitch copped a smile. “Come on now, Brock. Are we talking about the same woman here? Trixie, vulnerable?”
“I said you can’t see her,” Brock deadpanned. “Let’s go, Rory. We’re done here.”
Rory hesitated before meeting Brock at the door. Before they left the room, Mitch said, “You know, Rory, there’s something you should remember. The sentence I served was the punishment you would’ve received if I hadn’t taken the stand in your defense.”
“What’s your point?” Brock asked, stepping in before Mitch barricaded Rory in a corner and he came out fighting.
“No point, just stating a fact. Rory would’ve gone to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I didn’t have to come forward. If you remember, he was willing to take the fall. Why, I’m not sure, but he was ready to do it. And if I hadn’t stepped up to the plate, he would’ve been the one locked up. Who knows, maybe Jordie Anne would be alive today and—”
“Don’t you fucking put that on me!” Rory grabbed Mitch by the collar. “You don’t get to lay your guilt down at my feet and expect me to step over it every day of my existence.
“You made the decision to end Stephen Pratchert’s life. You could’ve let the cops handle him but no, you refused to trust the legal system. You’re Mitch Colony. You’ve always gotten away with whatever you wanted to do. You’ve ignored laws and operated right below the radar. And now you want someone to blame because Daddy and Momma aren’t around to save you.”
“Bastard,” Mitch grated out, shaking free of Rory’s grip. “I don’t want you to carry guilt.” He set his jaw. “Damn it, boys. I love her. I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Well you should’ve thought of that before you chose Jordie Anne,” Brock pointed out. “Trixie is our wife, Mitch. If you think Rory and I won’t protect our home and our woman, you’re wrong.”
“And if you believe I won’t find a way to see her, you’re sorely mistaken as well.”
Brock sneered. “You’ll play hell getting to her.”
Brock came to a screeching halt in front of the house. They’d called Trixie when they’d reentered the vehicle and deliberately kept her on the phone until they arrived back at their farm.
Rory hopped out of the truck with his phone still pinned to his ear. He nodded at Brock, who immediately took off again, heading for the Cartwells’ house.
It was up to Rory to keep Trixie preoccupied until he returned. He didn’t need to guess how he’d manage to keep their sexy vixen busy.
A few minutes later, Brock arrived at his destination. He barreled out of the vehicle and pounced up the front steps. Kane and Braden met him on the porch before he knocked.
“What the hell’s wrong?” Kane asked, affixing his belt.
“I need to talk to you,” Brock replied. “It’s important. Where’s Peyton?”
“She’s in bed. Normal folks—at least those without a full nest—go to bed before ten so they can have a good time before they drift off to sleep.”
Brock was taken aback by Kane’s directness. “I guess I should’ve called first.”
“You probably shouldn’t have ripped down the driveway at eighty miles an hour,” Braden said. “What’s wrong, Brock?”
“I need your help.”
“Oh God,” Kane grumbled, dragging his hand down his face. “What has she done this time?”
“Stop.” Braden shot Kane a warning glare. “We were just talking about Trixie today. She’s turned into a responsible young woman and we’re all proud of her. Don’t jump to conclusions now.”
Kane ignored Braden. “What the hell did she do? I’m not like my big brother here. I don’t sleepwalk through life wearing rose-colored glasses and a sign on my back stating my children are perfect.”
Braden snarled. “Stop it, Kane. Let the boy talk.”
Boy. Hell.
Brock paced the porch.
Damn
. Come to think of it, he felt like a boy. He sure wasn’t acting like a man. What the fuck was he doing? Running to his wife’s momma and daddies when he needed them to keep an old boyfriend at bay?
Storming away from them then, he said, “Forget I was here. I let my temper get the best of me.”
Kane marched down the front steps. “Hang on there a minute. What’s this about?”
Brock returned to the driver’s seat and fastened his seat belt. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have come.”
Kane reached in the open window and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “But you did. And you pulled me away from a very beautiful woman when you tore through our gates like a man being chased by a mad gal with a frying pan. So talk. What happened? What can we do to help?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
“Don’t give me that shit.”
“Kane is right,” Braden said. “What’s happened?”
Brock took a deep breath. Trixie would cut him off for a year after this. Gone were the days of spontaneous sex. He could kiss his active sex life good-bye.