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When he slides a cup of coffee onto the table and sits across from me, humor makes his dark eyes shine.

“So, married life treating you well? Still happy to be with the same girl?” His mouth twitches with the ghost of a smile.

“Shit, I had no idea what I was missing. Why didn’t you tell me?” I take a sip of the acrid blend. It’s so stiff a spoon could stand up in it.

“Just every damn day. I’m glad I finally get to say those three little words. ‘Told you so’.” He laughs, ducking away from my playful swing towards his arm.

“Yea, alright. Here, while you’re gloating, take a look at these and help me out.” I push the thick binder of photos towards him.

His humor fades into jaw clenching seriousness as he starts flipping through. “These off that son of a bitch’s computer?”

I just nod as I finish filling out the first payment.

He falls silent as he flips from one to the next.

My guts wrench when he reveals Libby’s pic. It hurts even more to see now than the first time.

“I think I have your answer,” he grunts, turning the last page over. Propping his elbow on the oak table, he leans into his palm, running it down his face.

His cheeks pale as his fingers work up through his hair.

He ages ten years in seconds.

“I need a real drink, join me?” His voice takes on a rasp before he pushes himself up. He doesn’t wait for my answer, but tosses two more mugs down and pulls a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet by the sink.

The amber alcohol spills when he slings mine down.

But seeing his hand shake as he knocks his back keeps me from protesting.

“All those farms, people, businesses, they all have one thing in common.” He tips the bottle again.

“Mason?” Lori calls from the back room.

He pauses with the cup halfway to his lips, then sets it down.

Without a word, he disappears into the hall.

Well, fuck.

I stare down at the Jack Daniels still circling in the ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ cup in front of me.

It doesn’t look at all appealing now. Not with the sour feeling in my guts, hinging on whatever revelation he has.

How does Libby play into this? Do I need to worry about her?

All those farms have had some sort of mischief. Some weren’t more than tarps being pulled off hay stacks, or tire tracks through their fields.

But others have had more serious financial hits, like Shufflebottom’s. That poor guy lost half his herd.

When Mason comes back, he’s carrying Jack and a duffle bag. Dropping the luggage, he strides to the table and fetches his phone where he left it next to the folder of photos.

“Everything okay?” I can tell he’s agitated.

He lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “Yep, Lori’s in labor.”

My heart races. “Oh shit,” I mutter.

“I’m fine.” She moves from the hall, her hand cupping her belly. “They’re just getting started, but it’s almost an hour to the clinic.”