Page 24 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dove

I ’d slept fitfully and rolled out of bed ready for work and as much distraction as possible. Sheriff Ryan had left not long after I’d told him I did in fact know Hawk Jensen. At least, I used to know him.

What kind of messed-up person is upset that their brother hasn’t tried to see them after the only contact they’ve had with him is him calling her horrible names? I mean really, who does that?

But there it had been at the sound of his name, a bruise deepening with every minute I thought about how close he apparently was and how little he cared to see me.

Dorian could clearly tell how upset I was, but I’d insisted I was fine. He needed to go check his property, and I wanted him to do that—it’d be awful if there was a fire we didn’t know about, or any other problems. So I promised him I was going to eat and get to bed early .

What a shift from the moments before the sheriff had arrived, when it’d seemed like we might kiss, to after, when it felt like I was crumbling again.

I was so tired of crumbling.

As I left for work, I found an envelope on my front porch.

Dove,

I’m sorry about your brother. I wish there was something I could do. If you’re not too tired after work tonight, knock on my door. Please.

He’s a fool to miss out on you. You’re a good woman.

Dorian Q

PS. Please knock.

The note stayed with me as I took blood pressures and temperatures and health histories at the clinic, mind numb except the repeating refrain he’d left with me.

He’s a fool to miss out on you.

By the time I did knock on Dorian’s door, I’d shifted from sad to resigned to accepting, and just as I’d mounted his steps, to angry.

“Glad you?—”

I burst past him into his house.

“How dare he, right? I mean what the actual… Ugh!” I practically stomped my foot, frustration and anger sending my pulse into a sprint.

“How dare he be a deadbeat brother and then call me up like he knows anything about my life and call me names? Meanwhile, he’s living in a camp three minutes from my house and fifteen minutes from the town where he darn well knows I’ve lived for years. And Nan! He could come see her!”

Bear stood watching, on alert, and his perked triangle ears and still tail made me deflate and press my hands over my face. “I’m so sorry. I just barged in here.”

Dorian’s warm hands gently took my wrists and tugged. “No need to hide. Everything’s fine.”

“I—” My voice wobbled, and I frowned. “I really don’t want to cry about this.”

But I already was, and Dorian pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping around me and holding me so perfectly snug and safe, I couldn’t manage to cry for long before I was simply hugging him back.

After indulging in his solid warmth for another minute, I pulled myself together and stepped away. “Thank you.”

He nodded toward the living room. “Sit. I’ll bring tea.”

Bear and I shared a look. I imagined him saying something like, Isn’t he so great?

He was such an imposing dog—physically large and his black-and-white coloring was striking.

He had a wolfish quality and yet he was such a sweet, friendly dog.

Knowing he helped Dorian with his anxiety made him even more special.

The low rumble of an electric kettle sounded after a few seconds in the kitchen, but I took the time to take in the space.

Worn couches and a TV on a stand, though not the gigantic eighty-inch monstrosity one might expect from a bachelor’s living room.

Why didn’t I notice this last time? Oh, right, the exquisite tea party setup with the beehive teacups.

I’d had eyes only for them and the cakes, and the man who’d baked them.

Today, it seemed like I was seeing another aspect of him.

Taking it all in, I could confirm Dorian was about as predictable as a summer storm, so I wasn’t surprised his space was less traditionally single guy .

“Hope you don’t mind chamomile. Figured something herbal might be a good idea.” He set down a small tray, one he hadn’t used for our fancy tea, and took a seat next to me on the couch.

My heart flipped like a silly little thing. What was it thinking?

He’d taken a different seat before—that was what.

I took the tea and dropped a cube of sugar in. Not super smart, but I decided not to care.

“Those are mini macarons. There’s a maple, a pumpkin, and an espresso cream, but don’t feel like you need to eat them.” His gaze fixed on his own tea as he stirred a small spoon around the edge of the cup.

“Those are almost too pretty to eat,” I said, studying the gorgeous little treats, one a saddle brown with lighter filling, one a brilliant orange with a white middle, and the last a café au lait color.

They were a gorgeous fall palette and the fact he’d clearly made them himself was simply amazing. “I’m not sure I can eat them.”

He huffed. “You can.”

Oh my goodness and be still my heart, was this man blushing under that burly beard of his? Gah!

I took a bite of the espresso cream and shut my eyes, the texture perfect and not too crumbly and falling everywhere but my mouth like macarons often did, the flavor exploding on my tongue. “I think you’re a magician.”

When I finally opened my eyes and focused on him, I found him watching me with a pleased expression.

He pointed to himself. “Normal guy.”

I giggled and took a bite of the pumpkin one. Again. So freaking good. After a sip of tea, the heaviness of the truth about my brother settled in. I didn’t want to talk about it and risk crying again, but I also needed to process it .

“Do you think it’s a cult? The old Sego Lily place?”

He exhaled, running a hand over Bear’s head before notching his chin toward the dog’s bed. The good boy obediently moved to his spot and sank down, then sighed.

“Cult is probably a bit strong. So far, they seem like they might be doomsday preppers with a side of extreme nationalism, but who knows. They’ve messed around, but it sounds like it might be a case of the teens acting out in a situation where they’re deprived of other outlets.”

I blinked, processing his statement. “That’s very generous, considering they’ve caused you trouble.”

He tipped his head side to side. “I’m not sure trouble is right, so much as inconvenience. Frustration. Some long days dealing with their nonsense. As a recovered entitled little jerk, I don’t want to judge too harshly.”

“You were a teenage dirtbag?” It was hard to imagine him as anything but how he was now—giant and gentle and more and more irresistible. Thinking of him as a surly teen with sass made me giggle.

He chuckled low, his baritone voice pleased. “Oh, yes. It was a formative time.”

I wanted to know everything about that, but something nagged. “Sheriff Ryan said they started a fire. That’s not small.”

“True. Fire’s a real concern. Kind of a nightmare for a tree farm in a desert climate.” He made a distressed face.

An empty laugh tripped out of me. “Yeah.” I hated to remember, but he should know my concerns. “I don’t want to admit this, but based on what I know of my brother’s past, I think you are right to be worried.”

His gaze narrowed. “Can you tell me more?”

Even questioning me about my criminal brother’s possibly sketchy new “community” didn’t push him into being curt. How had I ever thought of him as grumpy?

I nodded as I chewed the last macaron, the maple flavor a surprisingly delicious morsel I’d be thinking about later. I tended to like fruitier desserts, but these were all fallish and perfect.

“That was so good, thank you,” I said, then wiped my fingers on the cocktail napkin he’d brought on the tray.

“So, Hawk went to juvenile detention when he was fourteen. That was right after our parents died and he was in a rough place. I stayed on the compound for a few years, then went to live with Nan, and he…” I shook my head at the memory.

“He got wrapped up with the people who’d been so influential for our mom and dad. ”

Dorian waited, listening attentively. He clearly sensed there was more to come, and he was right.

I swallowed hard, then took one last drink of my tea in hopes it might settle the tightness in my throat.

“So, my dad killed my mom, then himself. Hawk lost it, started acting out. I retreated in. He burned down a house and the people who were inside only barely survived. He’d had some run-ins with police before that and because of it and the fact that people had been there, he went to juvey.

He also called me from jail about four years ago.

He was on one of his ‘making amends’ kicks, which seem to crop up about once every five years. ”

My chest ached, and I rubbed a hand over my sternum.

“One of the aspects of the cult was a lot of talk about purity and obedience. Lots of women ‘obeying’ but really what that meant was men behaving badly, hurting their wives, and facing no consequences since the leadership wouldn’t step in.

I’d genuinely hoped Hawk had gotten away from all that crap, but what he said to me the other day makes me think he probably hasn’t. ”

A warm hand slipped over my arm and gently squeezed my wrist. “I’m sorry. That sounds like a hard way to grow up.”

I laughed, but there was no lightness in it. “For the most part, I’ve made my peace with it. But even without Hawk calling, and now finding out he’s so close by, I’ve been thinking a lot about the way I was raised and how it’s affected me as an adult. The choices I’ve made…”

He waited, ever patient. Always listening.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit everything to him, but as though he sensed I’d hit the end of my ability to be vulnerable, he caught my eye. “As far as I’m concerned, Dove Jensen, you’re a miracle.”

And just like that, the tears came again.