The horror of the situation sears me. I didn’t listen to my Dove. I handed her to the wolves, and even after she came back, I continued to kill her, again and again. I was supposed to be her safe space, but I became the biggest villain in her story.
Joy’s eyes gloss with tears, but she keeps bandaging, wrapping gauze around my hands like she’s holding me together.
“I chose him,” I rasp. “Over her. Over the woman I loved…still love. And now—I see it. In his face. In hers. There’s no denying it.”
Mav finally sits, the porch swing creaking under his weight. He levels me with a thoughtful stare. “You fucked up, Cade.Bad. Ain’t no use dressin’ it up pretty. But a man’s not measured by the shit he falls into; he’s measured by how he climbs out. You get up, dust off, and set it right, best you can. That’s the only trail worth ridin’ now.”
“How am I supposed to set this right?” I sputter.
“You can’t change the past,” he says slowly, as if weighing his words. “But you can damn sure face it. Own your mistake.”
Joy ties the last knot in the bandage and lays a hand over mine. “It’ll be okay, Cade.” Her voice trembles as tears spill over. “It’s not okay now. But it will be.”
Something inside me cracks. I drop my head into my hands, shoulders heaving, sobs tearing out of me like I haven’t cried since I was a boy.
Joy pulls me into her arms, and I let her. I bury my face against her shoulder, her dress soft, smelling faintly of some fancy perfume.
She rocks me like I do Evie when she skins her knee.
“Let it out, darling,” she murmurs. “Then tomorrow, you can stand back up.”
After a while, when the tears have dried, we settle back in our chairs.
Joy bandages my other hand. “You’re good at patchin’ people up,” I say in gratitude.
“I get a lot of practice with the ranch hands and this one.” She jerks her head toward her brother.
“So, what’s our move to make that son of a bitch pay?” Mav’s eyes have gone storm-dark. “‘Cause a rattlesnake that close to home—you don’t leave it coiled. You deal with it.”
A broken inhale slips past my lips. “And this is where it gets worse.”
“Worse?” Joy narrows her eyes. “How?” And then, as if it dawns on her, she shakes her head. “Please tell me he didn’t do this to someone else.”
Defeated, I nod. “I don’t know how Sarah knows, but…she said there are others,severalothers, and one”—my chest locks up like I’ve been branded hot—“one girl killed herself.”
Joy claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God!”
“If I’d listened to Sarah then, if I’d stood by her….” I feel lost and confused. “He’s my brother. How…how can this be happening?”
“People live with murderers and rapists and don’t know who they are.” Mav lets out a long breath, shaking his head slowly. “If there are others…then….” He lets out a brittle laugh suddenly. “Now it makes sense.”
“What does?” Joy asks before I can.
He pulls out his phone from his pocket and browses through it. “Yeah. Here it is. I received an email from Marnie Evans, a journalist atThe Washington Herald. She said she wanted to talk about ranching. I looked her up. She’s cracked open her share of sexual assault cases, gotten law enforcement to go back and deal with some they swept under the rug. I didn’t get back to her, ‘cause I saw nothing about ranching in her portfolio.”
“You think this…Marnie person talked to Sarah?” She had mentioned a journalist.
Mav moves his head in a slow, solemn nod. “I think so.”
Joy picks up her glass of whiskey and downs it. “I’m going to go check on Sarah.”
“You can’t drive,” Mav protests.
“I hadonedrink,” she counters.
“Let me ask Zane to take you.”
“At this hour, your foreman is deeper into his cupsthan I am.” She leans down and kisses my forehead. “Cade, baby, we’re going to take your fucking brother down.”
