Page 67

“Don’t leave town for a few days,” he said, looking at me to Candice and resting on Mark. “I expect that you will want to stay for the funeral anyhow.”
I nodded just as Mark said, “Why would she want to stay for that man’s funeral? He treated her like shit.”
Knox’s stare didn’t lessen. “Sutton inherits Abberly’s now that Gabe is gone. I know she most likely won’t want to keep it. But arrangements need to be made, and I know Sutton. She will stay to pay her respects.”
Mark looked like he wanted to argue, but I stopped him.
“I will start looking into funeral arrangements.”
Mark whipped around incredulously, “Why would you be doing the funeral?”
Knox shook his head. “You don’t know much about country folks do you, Mr. Big City?”
Mark made a snorting noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We take care of our own. Even bastards like Gabe.”
I felt a tear slip down my cheek. “He didn’t change the will. Before she died, Ruth Ann, Gabe’s mama, instructed him to take care of me. I knew he hated that more than anything. But he never changed his will. He still kept his promise to his mama.”
And with that, sobs wracked my body. I cried for the man that had been a complete ass to me. Nobody deserved to die like that, not even Gabe. I cried for Ruth Ann that had been a better mother to me than my own.
I couldn’t help but feel that this was all my fault. All of this happened because I went to the city with Mark. Knox was right, we do take care of our own.
Mark cradled me against his chest, clearly at a loss for what to do or say. I felt a small hand on my shoulder.
“We are here for you, Sutton.” Candice gave me a squeeze. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
And then I cried because for the first time in my life I really wasn’t alone, and I felt like my selfishness in needing others had been the cause for all hell to break loose here.
I hadn’t realized I had been uttering the words until Mark tipped my chin up to face him. His silver eyes were blazing.
“This is not your fault, Sutton. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault.”
But he didn’t understand, it really was.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mark
There were certain things I understood in life. For example, the stock market. As fickle as any mistress, there was a certain ebb and flow that followed an almost cadence-type rhythm. Sure, there were huge losses and triumphant gains, but in between it all there was the sense of adventure.
Sutton was my stock market, and I was beginning to see that I had invested more of my funds than I had ever thought to be possible.
I am a cautious man. I don’t take risky deals. I don’t mingle in the unsavory. And I certainly never find myself embroiled in murder cases.
I could also argue that I don’t do backwoods America and I am allergic to small towns. And yet, here I am in Otterville Falls for the foreseeable future. All because of that one small, infuriating creature that has literally ripped me up one side and torn down my walls with startling ease.
My parents were the perfect example of a loveless marriage. I had always vowed to myself that I would never find myself in that trap. However, the longer I spent with Sutton the more I feared I was heading straight in their footsteps.
They had cared for one another at some point well enough to speak their vows. But it wasn’t until the loss of my sister that they truly parted ways for good. Oh, they are still bound by the laws of the land in wedded bliss, but I doubt they have laid eyes on each other for at least five years.
Not many know about my sister, Irene. She only lived a few hours past birth and I never got to see her. When people asked if I was an only child, I always nodded. It seemed easier to not bring up the child that was supposed to be but wasn’t long for this life.
I often wondered over the years what my life would have been like had Irene lived. Would my parents still be together? Would I be as cynical and cold?
They say hindsight is 20/20. I would like to think that Irene and I would have been close. That growing up with a sibling would mean that, even if we were both raised by the staff, we might have had each other.
It’s silly to play ‘what if’ games and often a dangerous way of thinking. Some things couldn’t be changed and there was no reason to be so maudlin about it.