Trust in Me (18 page)

“Because you’re stupid, that’s why.”

“She didn’t.” The words wandered out of Locke, despite his being vaguely aware the twins were squabbling and not even talking to him anymore. “I broke a promise to her.”

The twins glanced at each other, some unspoken communication between them Locke didn’t bother to try decoding.

“You don’t break promises.” At least Daniel sounded as confused as he was.

Except… “I did.” Locke dropped his head in his hands, but the pressure behind his eyes didn’t get any better. Worse, for once he couldn’t even blame the two in the room with him. “I didn’t mean to. I promised not to break her trust. I said I’d keep her safe and I promised never to break her trust and I screwed both of them up at the same goddamn time.”

“Can you fix it?”

When she wouldn’t even let him near her? “
How?
”

Identical pairs of wide eyes stared at him in shock.

For fuck’s sake. He shook his head and started getting up off the ground. “Forget I asked.”

“No, no, wait!” The boys rushed him, one of them finding a chair while the other pushed him into it. Locke let them do it, because… Well, hell, he didn’t have much else to do, did he?

“Okay, we can do this.” Dean stepped back, as deep a frown as Locke had ever seen on his face. “What’d you do?”

“I—” He caught himself in time. He couldn’t betray her twice. Her past was her secret. “Can’t tell you.”

“You did something without asking permission again, didn’t you?” Daniel crowed behind him. Locke grit his teeth while Dean glared. “That’s what always turns Mandy into a wet cat. Why not her evil best friend?”

Locke was already reaching for Daniel’s throat when Dean snapped at him. “Hey asshole, don’t you listen to anything? That’s the mother of his kid, how about a little respect?”

Daniel—smart enough to step quickly out of reach but dumb enough to keep talking—blinked in shock. “You knocked up
Medusa
?”

That was worth getting up for. Stepping into a solid pop to Daniel’s chin, Locke at least had the mildly satisfying crash of moron to the concrete.

Dean just stared down dispassionately. “Dude, it’s a wonder no one has drowned you in your sleep.”

Daniel made no effort to get up, rubbing his jaw. “Wouldn’t that wake me up?”

“Not if we did it right,” Locke answered, settling back into the metal folding chair.

Dean grinned at him, and okay, he gave in to the weak urge to grin back.

“Now where were we?”

“Nowhere?” Locke answered, the knotted situation before him coming back into focus. The woman he loved didn’t trust him, was angry at him and was running away with his child in tow. Oh, and she may well be being hunted by a man with seemingly unlimited resources, interested in killing her. Which he couldn’t tell anyone about.
Fuck
just wasn’t a strong enough word.

“Wrong!”

He glanced up to see Dean’s hopeful smile.

“She loves you, right? I mean, she’d have to, to put up with you this long. That’s like eighty percent of the problem solved right there.”

If only… “You don’t even know what the problem is.”

“All I need to know is that she made you smile again, man. I almost forgot what that looked like. Used to be just Dad could…” Dean trailed off, looking down again. Clearing his throat, he started over. “If she’s going to be the mother of your kids, at least the little bastards will have a shot at looking like something I won’t be embarrassed to claim as family, right? We can’t let her get away. I mean, come on, it’s not like you’re gonna bag a chick that hot
twice
in your lifetime.”

A lump thickened Locke’s voice, turning him gruff. “With our luck, the kid’ll come out looking like the two of you ugly things.”

Daniel finally sat up, working his jaw from side to side. “You should be so lucky.” He tilted his head all the way over, cracking it once and repeating the motion on the other side. “Why don’t you just follow her ’til she gives up and forgives you? That always works for me.”

No it didn’t.

“Because
he’s
not a stalker.” Dean kicked Daniel’s side for some unnecessary emphasis.

“Because she’s not coming back.” Otherwise, he might just do that.

He had both their attention now.

“You sure?” Daniel asked, finally looking serious.

All Locke could do was nod.

“Well… Shit.” And now they were all caught up.

The quiet went unbroken for long moments, except for Daniel’s occasional mouth breathing. Locke stared at the mangled stool now on the floor. As twisted up as he felt inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced indecision, every option in front of him meaning he would lose something important. Something vital. But it was the first time he faced it knowing, ultimately, the choice wasn’t his.

“Seems pretty clear to me what you have to do.” Dean looked at Daniel for confirmation.

Looking grim—something Locke had no idea Daniel knew how to do with his face—his twin nodded. “You gotta go with her.”

Locke shook his head. “I can’t leave here. You guys—”

“Are all grown-up. All of us.” Dean clapped a hand on Locke’s shoulder. “You don’t owe us anything, man.”

That damn lump in his throat doubled. “It’s not about owing. It never was.” He’d needed them as much as they needed him. Maybe even more. He couldn’t imagine a day without them, even when they got on his last nerve. Daniel, Dean, Amanda, Andrew, Peter and Steven… They’d been his life for so long. His to take care of and guide and protect.
His.

“We know that. But maybe it’s time to find something for you now. And you know us, we’re not going anywhere. We’ll take care of everyone.”

Locke raised a brow.

“
Amanda
will take care of everyone,” they all said in unison.

God, he was going to miss this. Which meant he was already decided.

“Locke?”

They all leaned past the aisle to see their sister standing in the doorway of the back room. Her arms were crossed, the thick sweater draping her slight form and somehow making the misery on her face worse.

How long she’d been there, none of them seemed to know. The twins just shrugged when he looked to them. At least that was more typical.

“What’s wrong, Mandy?” He brushed past Dean to get closer to her.

She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his middle. It was second-nature to pet her hair, the same as he’d done since she was little. “Susie closed the store. She said she’s leaving and she won’t tell me where she’s going. She won’t say anything at all. I think I messed everything up.”

“No, that was me.” And the gravity of that mistake felt like a thousand blades in his back.

Amanda looked up, her brows drawn. “They’re not even looking for
her
.”

Locke pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean they’re looking for someone named Kayla McCormick. Susie won’t talk to me. She just keeps saying she’s sorry but she has to go. I don’t understand any of this.”

No. Amanda wouldn’t. But for him, another puzzle piece snicked into place. Son of a bitch, he should have seen it a long time ago.

“Stay here, and for the love of God, do not call Cole to do any searches for you. It’s not your business. We don’t do a damn thing until she asks us to.”

“But—”

“No, Mandy. I mean it. Not yet.” He’d do nothing to risk her again.

It took her a moment, but she finally nodded.

Only then did he leave.

Susie sat on her bed, helplessness swamping her. Used to be, she would grab her two suitcases, throw them in the back of her truck and she was gone. If she left anything behind, it wouldn’t matter because she never had anything that couldn’t be replaced. But now…

Everywhere she looked, there was something she didn’t want to leave behind. Gifts from people in town, from Amanda, things she’d gotten for herself. Clothes filled her closet and the armoire in the corner. Furniture she’d grown to love demanded she find space in the truck bed. Like the old vanity Amanda had given her, with its big circle mirror and dark wood, inlaid with pine on the top, the grain creating this beautiful windmill effect in the golden squares… She’d seen something similar to that recently—

She looked away. She wasn’t going to think about woodworking or where she’d been when she’d seen it. She needed to think about packing. About leaving and never looking back. She could probably bring the quilts she’d bought from Dottie Johnson at the RDC Rodeo Days last fall. The curtains she’d made to match them. The fluffy bath towels that were so thick they could have been clouds. Then there were her shoes…

She rolled her eyes. This was not survivalist thinking. She needed to break it down to the simplest necessities. Take only what she needed. What here could she not live without?

Locke.

She flinched at the speed of that thought. It was panic making her think like that. Pure and simple. Or heartache. It wasn’t remotely true and she couldn’t afford to let herself think it. She’d lived plenty of years without him and come through them just fine. She could do it again.

She could…

Except the thought of trying had her leaning over onto her pillows, hugging one to her chest.

It didn’t feel as good as him. It didn’t even feel as good as the pillows on his giant bed. But it still smelled like him. Mixed with “that flowery shit” from her shampoo. Her smile was bittersweet. How could she be so angry, so hurt and still ache for him so much she was hugging his smell from her pillow?

Because he wasn’t trying to hurt you.

Her arms tightened around the pillow and her eyes scrunched tight. Locke would sooner skin himself alive than put her at risk. She knew that. Even before she’d allowed herself to acknowledge her own interest in him, she’d recognized his in her. She’d just been too skittish, too scarred, to accept it with any aplomb. He almost never said a word to her in those early days, but oh how he watched her. As if he could taste her…

Whenever they crossed paths, that stare would send a wave of awareness over her. Rather than ignore it, she started prodding him. She’d have said anything to make him stop wanting her. Because even then, something she’d thought dead in her wanted him back.

The comments never seemed to bother him. Insults he hasn’t deserved, observations about his brothers that weren’t his fault. He’d treated her with a patience that made her insane, until finally, finally, she knew she pissed him off. She couldn’t even remember now what had finally done it. Only that they had been at Shaky Jakes for May Belle’s annual Christmas Shindig, and when his patience snapped, she’d actually been relieved.

He had been sitting at the bar, nursing that beer like it was the last one on the planet, on the stool next to hers. He always did that, even then. Put himself close to her, all but marking her as taken. While she was angry at the implication, having him there kept any other interested males away, which was just how she liked it.

That night, though, he finally turned to her, his muscled arm snaking around her waist and lifting her off the stool like she was some kind of feather. By the time he put her down again, in the middle of the dance floor—so full of other holiday revelers neither of them could move any further—he already had his arms holding her close. Cradling her, protecting her from the crush of people as he swayed them to the slow song. She never knew if he meant to drag her outside to tell her off and got stuck in the crowd or if he really meant to dance with her, but she did know it was the first time she’d heard his heartbeat. Steady, strong. The kind of beat you could set your own to, if you had the courage.

She didn’t, not then. Honestly, she didn’t have it now, but that night was the first time in so long she’d felt completely and utterly safe. She’d softened for him, her ear pressed to his chest and the other first, the one that haunted her now, she’d closed her eyes while he held her.

When the dance was over, he let her go. Slowly. As if it were the last thing he wanted to do. Then he walked away, out of the bar and into the night.

Locke didn’t hurt her. Period. Not even when she deserved it. Not even when she let her fears carve him up along with herself. He made a mistake. A critical one, yes, but only a mistake. Hadn’t she made more than her share?

Was she making one right now?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Indecision turned her inside out. She couldn’t just lie there. Time was slipping away—especially costly since she didn’t know how much she had. Would that lawyer go back quickly? She couldn’t imagine why he would. No one ran to Malcolm Hall empty-handed. Maybe she had a few days. A few more hours.

But what was she hoping to do with it? Go to Locke? Break him just a little bit more while she took a few extra minutes to remember? It wouldn’t change her need to leave or his need to stay.

She looked at her suitcases, still packed as always, behind the bedroom door. Beaten little cases, a faded yellow and brown she’d picked up at a five-and-dime somewhere. All that was left of the life she’d left behind and her avenue to new beginnings.

Never let him find you…
The last words her father-in-law had ever said to her. Not because he cared about her. She knew that too well. Christopher Hall had simply known there were some limits to what he could get his son out of. Murder charges were fifty-fifty. The night the maid saved her, there were witnesses to deal with. People who could turn the tide of a jury if they felt strongly enough about the truth. Out here, on her own, she had no such guarantees.

You’re not alone here.

How many times had Locke said that to her? How many times had she scoffed in return, but deep down, she knew it was true. She wasn’t like him, knowing every face in the town as if they were all part of his immediate family, but she knew a lot of them. They’d welcomed her. Accepted her, even grumpy as she was. Unlike all the places she’d been before, she was going to miss this town. These people.

Locke.

Why couldn’t the right answer and the safe answer be the same thing?