Because maybe then I could keep him for real.
Chapter 29
Bradford
Turner standsin my kitchen with his jaw set and his hands jammed so deep in his jacket pockets I half-expect him to tear straight through the lining.
“Okay, well, she’s gone. Say what you need to say,” I clear my throat, reaching for my hat on the counter. I place it on my head, reality crashing back down on me.
But on the bright side, Idolook forward to second fucking date with Jenna.
And it’ll be much easier to focus on that once work is settled.
“Well, it’s bad.” Turner nods, and stares past me at the window above the sink, where the glass is filmed over with a thick scrim of condensation. Outside, the sun hasn’t climbed the ridge yet, but the rows of pines are already slashed with cold blue shadows.
“What happened?” I poke, annoyed that he won’t just fucking spill it. I missed out on morning post-breakfast sex with an intelligent woman because of this shit.
He steps forward, every movement deliberate, like he’s passing through a field of tripwires. “Cade. He trashed the place. Broke every bed, cut the mattresses. Tools are everywhere—some are bent in half, some are gone. Found the chainsaw inthe kitchen, halfway through the countertop. He ran out before I could do anything, and you know, you wouldn’t say whether or not…”
Fuck.I try to picture the chaos. I know exactly what it looks like when a man with nothing left to lose goes off-script. I’ve seen it too many times.
“Where’d he go?”
Turner shrugs. “Took the dirtbike, and said he’d be back.”
“What triggered it?”
He’s quiet, his eyes jumping from me to the dog and then back to me. “Something was off last night. Cade was pacing, mumbling weird shit about owing someone? I don’t fucking know. I thought I was fucked up, but he’s…”
“He’s different than you. He broke as child, not an adult. There’re different consequences to that.” I grip the edge of the counter, the old wounds of my past slipping up on me. The only difference between Cade and I, is that I lean into control.
And he fucking hates control.
“What are we supposed to do? Do I need to go look for him?”
I stare at my hands, already knowing what we’re supposed to do—what weshoulddo—but suddenly struggling to tell him.
“He’s bad news. It’s clear that he’s affecting you.” Turner’s lips twitch. “I can find him. Gunner’s a hell of tracker. He caught wind of something outside last night. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to…hunt.”
I rub my palms together, trying to get the blood moving. My head throbs with the beginnings of a cold or maybe a hangover, though I haven’t touched a drink in years. “Knight called to tie up the loose end.” My eyes jump to Turner’s. “And I think that’s what should be done, too.” I hate the words I’m saying. I hate giving up on people.
But I also hate losing control.
And maybe I’ve done that with Jenna, but I won’t do it with Cade.
“Okay, then let’s go find him.”
“I’ll do the put down,” I say, my stomach knotting up at the thought of Turner dropping him. “Unless you’ve got a better shot.”
Turner gives me a grin. “Guess we’ll see.”
I nod, and then gesture to the door. “I’ll follow you to the bunkhouse, and we’ll start from there.”
Turner nods, and then he and Gunner head out, the door slamming with the wind behind him. I catch myself moving slower, tugging on my boots and coat like it’s a fucking inconvenience.
But that’s mostly because it is. And my brain keeps running back to Jenna.
If only, I could have a normal fucking life. If only, I was just the guy who ran the tree farm and construction company—without the buried bodies. I’m taking a major risk trying to keep someone like Dr. Williams.
