Page 35

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jigsaw

The closer I get to the hotel, the more I regret saying I’d meet him here. Too exposed. Too public. Too many variables I can’t control.

But it’s too late to back out now.

I spot him before I even finish turning into the parking lot—pacing the sidewalk like he doesn’t want to have this meeting any more than I do. Black hoodie, beat-up jeans, and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

My stomach knots.

I roll into a spot and kill the engine. Sit there a second watching him. He’s taller than I remember from our short reunion at Crystal Ball the other night. Restless energy rolls off him—something I recognize all too well.

He seems more than nervous. Untethered. Lost.

I push the door open and climb out, forcing my legs to move.

Cain stops pacing as I approach, eyes flicking to mine, then darting away.

“What’re you doing outside?” I ask, tone gruffer than I mean it to be.

He shrugs. “Needed air.”

I understand more than he realizes. “You want to go somewhere to talk? Grab lunch? Have you eaten?”

Jesus Christ, why am I so fucking awkward around this kid?

He gives me a half smile. “I could eat.”

“All right. There are like a dozen chain restaurants on the mall road.”

“I know.”

“Anything interest you?”

“The steakhouse?” he asks hopefully.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.” I clap my hands, eager to get moving.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re tucked into a wide, wooden booth in the corner of a Southwest Steakhouse—country music playing overhead, peanut shells crunching underfoot, and the scent of grilled meat thick in the air.

The walls are plastered with vintage rodeo posters and rusted license plates, making it look, feel, and smell exactly like every other Southwest Steakhouse I’ve ever stepped into.

A pretty—in an ordinary, girl-next-door kind of way—server in jeans, boots, and pigtails drops off glasses of ice water and rattles off the daily specials.

“Order whatever you want,” I say, figuring he’ll get a cheeseburger and fries.

Cain studies the menu like it’s a final exam, his brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a tight line. Then he clears his throat. “Uh, the bone-in ribeye. Medium. With the spicy shrimp, baked potato, and mac and cheese.”

Did this little shit just order the most expensive thing on the menu?

I snort under my breath and hand the server my menu. “I’ll have the same.”

“Everything?” she asks, arching a brow.

“Yup.”

“And a Coke,” Cain adds, without looking up.

I tap my water glass. “I’m good with this.”

After she leaves, Cain leans back in the booth, hands in his lap. He doesn’t fidget or reach for his phone, just stares past me in the direction the server went.

“How’s the hotel?” I ask, gripping the base of my water glass and giving it a slow spin, condensation slick under my fingertips.

“Okay. Planes are noisy, though.”

“Staying there can’t be cheap.”

He shrugs.

“You been eating enough?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. As if he thinks I’m criticizing his lunch order. “They have a free continental breakfast. I’ve been making it last all day.”

“That’s good.”

The scent of fresh baked bread and cinnamon hits my nose and a second later, a basket of rolls and a dish of cinnamon butter lands in front of us. I nod a thanks at the server and she hurries away.

Cain’s eyes light up for the first time since we sat down. He grabs a roll, tears it in half, and slathers it with butter.

I take one too, tearing it in half and smear butter on one side. It’s sweet, warm, and soft. Probably terrible for me, but I don’t care right now.

We munch on the rolls in silence for a few minutes. The sound of clinking silverware and a country ballad hum through the background.

“So, what’s your plan?” I ask, catching him mid-reach for another roll.

He freezes, then slowly sits back. “Not sure.” His gaze meets mine, full of something that might be defiance—or just exhaustion. “I want to see Jezzie.”

I hold out a hand, palm down. “We’ll get there.”

“Mom wanted me to use the money she left me for school.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s barely enough to pay for a year at a state school.”

“What do you want to do?” I ask.

He pops a piece of roll in his mouth and chews it slowly. “I think I want to be an electrician. Do a training program and find an apprenticeship.”

I nod slowly. I know some people who could probably help him out. “I might be able to help you with that.” Actually, I’m almost positive the community college out in Johnsonville has a solid program.

“Really?” His eyes widen, like he’s shocked I’d offer to do anything for him.

“Look, you said you and your stepdad aren’t close. Are you plannin’ to go back to Arizona?”

“New Mexico,” he corrects, focusing his attention on the now empty breadbasket. “There’s nothing for me there.”

“You got any other options?”

“Sure.” He spreads his hands wide. “I can go anywhere I want now. Just me and the open road.”

“Yeah, you can do that.”

“Here we go!” Our server swoops in, placing two massive plates with our steaks on them in front of us. A guy behind her delivers the side dishes.

“I’ll grab fresh drinks and bring more rolls,” the server chirps. “Be right back.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

Cain doesn’t wait. He dives into the steak, cutting off a thick bite and closing his eyes as he chews. Like it’s the first real meal he’s had in days.

I stab my fork into the mac and cheese—gooey, creamy, cheesy—and drop a ball of butter into the steaming crack of my baked potato.

Across from me, Cain keeps eating, fast but not sloppy. Intent.

Unease digs into me. Is he actually staying at that hotel?

I slice into my steak and take a bite, chewing while I figure out how to bring it up without making him defensive.

After he’s inhaled about a quarter of his meal, I steer the conversation toward his living situation.

“I have a friend who owns an apartment building. It’s about an hour outside of Empire.

” I circle my finger through the air to indicate the location we’re currently in.

“But it’s nice. My girlfriend’s place isn’t far from there, so I’m in the area a lot. ”

“Yeah, and?” he asks, clearly confused.

“It’s yours if you want it.”

His cheeks redden. “I don’t have enough to rent a place on my own and?—”

“No rent. He keeps it for members of the club who need a place to crash. It’s empty right now. Guy who was staying there just moved in with his girlfriend. As a favor to me , my friend who owns the building is willing to let you stay there.”

“Why don’t you live there?”

“I got a place down in Union. But like I said, I’m up that way a lot.”

“Sleeping over at your girlfriend’s?” He raises his eyebrows, looking like a scandalized ten-year-old who just learned that sex isn’t always about making babies.

“Yeah. And my club has some business interests out that way.”

“Your club has businesses?”

“Yes,” I say sharply. “But that’s not your concern right now.” I glance over his too-thin frame. “You ever been inside a gym?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Mom believed in chores and nature for exercise.”

“Well, a friend of mine owns a gym and he needs someone to help out. Answer phones, stock towels, keep the place clean, shit like that I guess.”

He blinks at me. “So?”

Christ. Do I have to spell this out? I hold out one hand. “I got an apartment for you to stay in.” I lift the other. “And a job so you can earn some money.”

“Wait, what?” His fork clatters against his plate. “An apartment? Like, just for me? A job? How? Why?”

“Why?” I repeat. “You’re my brother. And you just told me you’re basically homeless. So, if you want to stick around, I can help you with the basics.”

His eyes turn glassy. He glances away, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly at the wall. “I thought this was a fuck-off lunch,” he mumbles.

“What?” I laugh.

“Like, you just wanted to chat and maybe catch up.” He flicks his hand in the air. “And then when your curiosity was satisfied you’d say, off you fuck now, kid.”

Instead of laughing, I blow out a weary breath. Yeah, I can understand why he’d think that. “No, I don’t want you to fuck off into the sunset, Cain.”

He chuckles and sniffles at the same time, wiping the corner of his sleeve under both eyes. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

“Like I said, I’m not there a lot. Plus, I live in my friend’s apartment. There isn’t a lot of extra room.”

He fixes me with a sharp, unsettling stare. “And you don’t trust me not to rob your friend’s place?”

Why lie? The kid’s not dumb. “Well, yeah. Kinda.”

“But I can stay at your other friend’s place?”

“It doesn’t have any valuables,” I say with a straight face.

He snorts, then glances back down at his plate. When he looks up again, the humor’s gone. “I don’t steal.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t take handouts.”

“Which is why I helped you find the job,” I answer, barely holding onto my patience.

He fiddles with his fork, tapping it against the side of his plate until I want to rip it out of his hand. “Mom always said you saved our lives.”

I swallow hard. “She did?”

He nods quickly, eyes darting away.

It doesn’t seem like the right time to dig into that, but my curiosity overpowers my common sense. “How much do you remember about living on the farm?”

He spears me with a haunted stare full of horror. “Too much. I still have nightmares about it.”

“I do too sometimes.”

He stabs his fork into the mac and cheese and shovels a huge glob into his mouth.

We eat in silence for a while, the clink of silverware and low murmur of conversations filling the space between us.

“Your mom helped save my life,” I finally say. “She…helped me leave. He probably would’ve ended up killing me, otherwise.”

“We tried to leave once.”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. Surprised Ruth had it in her. The little I knew of her seemed so meek.

“Didn’t get far.” He pokes at his potato, jaw tight.

“How’d you end up in New Mexico?” I ask.

He shrugs. “We were in southern California for a while, but it was too expensive. She liked the art community there.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah. It was okay.” The corners of his mouth twist up, but there’s no joy behind it. “Anywhere I didn’t have to sit through four-hour fire-and-brimstone sermons or get my ass beat for blinking at the wrong verse felt like heaven.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You were…young. He didn’t start…hitting us and stuff until we were older.”

He frowns at me.

“Uh, I had two older brothers… We had two older brothers. They were…long gone before your mom came to live there, though.”

“Where’d they go?”

I shrug. “I don’t have any proof, but I think our father killed them.”

His face pales. “I used to think he was a monster sent by the devil himself to test us.” He hits his hand against the side of his head a few times, the ring on his pinky glinting under the lights. “He was always screaming about sin, punishment, and how the devil tricks you.”

“I remember those lectures.”

“He was meanest to Jezzie, though. If I messed up something, he’d take it out on her. I just stopped saying anything after a while so she wouldn’t get hurt.” He focuses his glassy eyes on me again. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

Fuck me. What if he’s putting on the performance of a lifetime just to get close and hurt us?

He can’t be that diabolical at his age, can he?

“Yeah, she’s fine.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and search for a photo of her that’s a couple years old.

I find one with her on the back of my bike, arms raised over her head, laughing.

Aunt Angela took the picture and fussed over the short ride.

I turn the screen toward him. “She’s in school, a couple hours from here.

Comes to visit on the weekends sometimes. ”

He studies the picture like he’s searching for proof—something in her eyes, her smile, maybe the way she holds herself—that she’s okay. After a few seconds, he nods and hands the phone back without a word.

“How about when we’re done here, I’ll take you to see the apartment?” I slide my phone back into my pocket. “We can stop by the gym too. If Sully’s around, you can meet him.”

He nods again, more sure this time. “Okay.”

Obviously, he doesn’t trust me yet.

Can’t blame him.

I’m not sure I trust him either.

But at least it’s a start.