“I know you were.” She set her glass aside and interlaced her fingers with his. “We didn’t realize we were up against three separatemen. Between their wives and kids, think of how many cars Ken, Dennis, and Jeff have access to. All three of them might have taken turns following us on a single trip. Then, on the next trip, all three might have been driving three different cars than the time before.”
Still. It sickened him that the Vance brothers had successfully followed them on his watch.
“Luke.”
“Mmm?”
“Will you tell me honestly how you’re holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m worried that you’re not. Your pursuit of the Vance brothers has formed this . . . dark cloud that hovers over you. I’m recovering. But sometimes I’m afraid that you’re deteriorating.”
“No. So long as you’re good, I’m good.”
“I’m good. See?” She stretched out her free arm. “Look at me. All good!”
He gave her a tender, uneven smile. “Then I’m good, too.”
She released a sound of frustration and squeezed his hand. “Look. I know you’re brooding about what happened to me. Please don’t. When you were in El Salvador and trying to find your brother in that hallway, your actions, unfortunately, didn’t affect the outcome for Ethan. But this time—for me—they did. This time, your actions made the difference. That’s what I’ve chosen to focus on.” She looked at him fiercely. “That’s what I want you to focus on, too.”
Maybe a healthier man, a man who hadn’t lived through the death of his brother, would be able to focus solely on the positive. His reality was more complex than that. Finley had lived—and he was more thankful for that than he’d ever been for anything. At the same time, he wasn’t willing to release the Vance brothers.
He was a man who held on to things. At times, that was a flaw. At times, a strength because it meant he would love Finley with everything he had until his death.
Since the day he’d written the letter to Ethan, he’d been workingto forgive himself and trust God. But a lifetime of patterns couldn’t be cured with a single prayer. They demanded unlearning. Daily, he was doing his best to release his mistakes and forgive himself.
He still wasn’t great at that. But he was trying.
She slid her legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand.
He assisted her to her feet. “How’s the dizziness?”
“Better. Almost gone now.” She moved into his arms, sliding her slim fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
Their eyes met and just that—one heated look from beneath her dark lashes—undid him. He lived for moments like this when they were alone together.
“I know better than to ask you to give up your pursuit of the Vance brothers,” she said. “But maybe you could take a week off? Do some self-care?”
He snorted. “I’m not a girl. I don’t do self-care.”
“Therein lies the problem.” She smiled. “To clarify, the fact that you don’t do self-care is the problem. The fact that you’re a man is one hundred percent not a problem.”
He kissed her.
They shared an intense type of intimacy he’d never before allowed himself. It sent his blood rushing. Yet he never let himself lose his head with her. He was extremely careful with Finley these days.
His heart beat,Mine. She really is all right. Mine. She really is all right.
He’d built a dream of a life in Montana while in prison. It hadn’t been wasted. It had served its purpose. It had given him a destination to visit in his mind when he’d been caged. He’d needed that then. And after his release, he’d continued to need it because it had provided him with a plan.
He hadn’t thought of Montana in quite a while because he no longer needed it.
His reality—this reality—had become his dream.
Late the next night, Luke printed out CeCe’s email and the sketch she’d made of the Vance family tree. He set them next to his computer and pulled up the Union County Assessor’s Office website.
He’d thought a lot about how the Vance brothers could have accessed an ATV on short notice. The only scenario that made sense to him? That one of their family members or friends lived in the vicinity of Blood Moutain and had made the ATV available to Ken.
