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When I ask, Damien’s usually stoic expression splits in a wide grin. “She’s good.” He gives me a nod, gaze still glued to the road. “She’s going to be pissed you made it all the way to Montana and didn’t stop in to say hi.”
Damien’s mom, Suzi, is the executive head chef at Hawthorne Helena and the only one of my father’s ex-wives who was ever nice to me. When Davino shipped us out here that single summer Delilah and I spent with Damien and Dakota, Suzi welcomed us with open arms. I never forgot that.
“And Kota?” I ask, referring to Damien’s twin. “She graduated with her bachelors last year, right?”
“She did.” He gives me a nod. “She dove right into her master’s—indigenous studies.” There’s no mistaking the pride in his voice when he talks about his twin. “She wants to get her doctorate in anthropology.”
“That’s amazing.” I give him a sheepish grin. “Delilah got drunk, stole a horse from Central Park stables and pulled a Lady Godiva through Strawberry Fields.”
“So, she’s as levelheaded as I remember,” Damien says on a laugh. “How’s your mom?”
“Astrid?” I look out my window on a humorless chuckle. I know he’s only asking to be polite. My mother did everything she could to stymie his mother’s career advancement with Hawthorne Hotels. One of the last things my grandfather did before he died was promote her to executive head chef. By leaving his controlling shares to Delilah and me, he made her promotion impossible for my mother to reverse. “Still a nightmare.”
Damien makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like it wants to be a laugh. “So... what’s with all the subterfuge?”
I knew he was going to ask. Has a right to ask but that doesn’t mean I want to answer him. “I told you,” I say evasively. “It’s the only way I get any privacy. If someone figures out I’m here, they’ll think I’m staying at the hotel.”
“And why aren’t you staying at the Hawthorne?” I can hear it in his tone, he knows I’m talking him in circles and his patience is wearing thin. When I don’t answer him, Damien makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat.
“Look, are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to keep pretending you called me because you had a sudden urge for another summer of brotherly male bonding?”
Sighing, I aim a look out the window. It’s green here. Impossibly green. Countless miles of it rolling out in front of me to collide with towering mountains and piercing blue sky. “Does it matter why I’m here?” I ask, suddenly sure that if I tell him what’s going on, he’ll pull over and kick me out of his truck in the middle of nowhere.
“No.” He shakes his head, gaze glued to the road in front of him. “It doesn’t matter to me, one fucking bit. Seven years or seven seconds—you’re my brother.” He flicks a look in my direction before going back to watching the road. “But it might matter to the people I talked into letting you stay with them.” He shakes his head. “Tom Barrett is my boss, Went. I can’t—”
“Trust me, you didn’t have to talk very hard. I just cut your boss a six-figure check for a one-month stay in his shitty little hunting cabin,” I remind him, instantly hating the bitter, entitled sound of my own voice. “Ol’ Tom has been bought and paid for. Why I’m here is none of his business.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Damien nods his head in my peripheral. “But it’s sure the fuck mine, asshole.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to disagree with him. Damien and I are brothers but we barely know each other. One summer spent together as teenagers is the extent of our relationship but as soon as the words surge up my throat, I swallow them down. Because I called him and he answered. I asked for help and he said yes, without hesitation. I have a thousand people in my life who’ll ask how high when I say jump—but only because it’s their job.
Throwing a look at my brother, I instantly regret calling him. Dragging him into this mess. Because none of this is his fault and it sure as hell isn’t his job. “Fuck—I’m sorry, okay?” When my apology does little to loosen the set of his jaw, I look out the window again. “I’m not running from the law.” It’s a half lie. I might be. Depends on how fast Conner Gilroy can untangle the mess Lexi made. “I didn’t kill anyone. No one is after me—I swear.”
He waits a beat before he says anything.
“But?”
“But my ex-girlfriend did something stupid—” Stupid is an understatement. Lexi didn’t do something stupid. She did something reckless and dangerous that might end up costing a man his life. “and she’s trying to blame it on me. The tabloids are in a tizzy and LA was not the place to ride it out.” Blowing out a heavy sigh, I swipe a rough hand over my face. “I just need some time to get it sorted. That’s it. Just a few weeks to—”
“Alright.” Damien gives me a sigh of his own, along with a nod that loosens his jaw. “But you’re still an asshole.”
“Davino Fiorella is our father,” I remind him with a grin. “I come by it honestly.”
FOUR
Kaitlyn
BARR TT RANCH, BARRETT VALLEY MONTANA
Go after him.
My eyes pop open, heart thundering in my chest, words echoing in my ears like someone said them out loud. I lay here, staring at the ceiling above me and wait for the screaming to start but it never does.
The screaming died out a long time ago.
All that’s left are the echoes.
Rolling over, I find Abbey in the dark. The shape of her under her covers, back already turned to me in preparation for the bedside lamp I always turn on.