“Stay with Rex, Bailey. At the farmhouse. Please.”
Oh, how she wanted to tell him yes. Even if it meant staying in the farmhouse, which he would never visit, it would still mean she was closer to him. And her heart wanted that more than anything.
Only she had obligations, and until she could end things with Seth the right way, she couldn’t do that to herself or Rafe.
“Let me think about it,” she whispered, hoping that would appease him.
His thumb brushed over her wrist. Once, twice, but then his touch and his warmth disappeared.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as she climbed out of the truck.
“I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
More than he knew.
***
After reluctantly leaving Bailey, Rafe came hometo an empty apartment, which was located in the small retail space that lined Main Street.
Not for the first time, Rafe realized how lonely this place was. As was the case on any given night, all the businesses were closed up tight, the streets empty. According to Bailey, that was how country towns were meant to be. She said Coyote Ridge was exactly the sort of small town they wrote romance novels about.
Rafe didn’t know about that. But it was small, and despite the larger cities encroaching, the town held true to its roots. There were community events on any given weekend and damn near every holiday. The businesses were independently owned and run by people whose families had lived there for generations.
Aside from the light shining from Rafe’s apartment, the rest of the shopping center was dark. There wouldn’t be life outside these walls for a few more hours when Bailey’s mom arrived at the bakery across the street to start baking for the day.
As for his apartment … well, it was exactly what you expected for a converted retail spot in a small town. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was nice enough. There were no holes in the plaster walls, no electrical sockets hanging loose. The lights worked, as did the A/C in the summer and the heater in the winter. And during the day, it was insulated enough he wasn’t bothered by the traffic outside his window. Plus, Violet Anderson, the owner of the bookstore, had given him a good deal on the rent because she liked that someone was there to keep an eye on her stuff when she wasn’t.
Small though it was, it worked for him. Rafe didn’t need much room, only a bed to sleep in, a recliner to sit on, and a refrigerator and microwave to get him by. And that was pretty much all there was. One bedroom, one bathroom, nothing fancy. He had a living room and a kitchenette. His brother had insisted he get a television, and when Rafe didn’t buy one, Rex did. Unless it was football or hockey, Rafe rarely ever turned it on. He spent his spare time reading, one of the perks of living above a bookstore.
Despite the fact he had minimal furnishings, this place felt more like home to Rafe than any place he’d lived his entire life. Even the farmhouse, back when his mama had been alive. Back when life had been full of warmth and light and something to look forward to. While he hoped never to part with the memories of his mother, Rafe had long ago accepted that the farmhouse was not where he wanted to be. Too much had happened in that place, and he was content never to step foot back inside.
Rafe marched across the living room and headed for the refrigerator. He grabbed a beer, popped the top, leaned against the rickety little island, and stared at the brown suede recliner. It was a housewarming gift from Rex, one of many his brother had tried to slip by him when he got back.
His gaze shifted to the window. In the distance, he could see the farmhouse, one of the only remaining residences downtown. The houses that were still standing had been converted into retail space.
It stunned him how different this place was when so much was still the same. Especially the main square of downtown. Sure, the names of the businesses were different than he remembered, but the layout was the same. Strips of retail space formed a U around the park, with the B and B and acres of land on the other side.
As was the case in many small towns, there was a bookstore, a drugstore, and a barber shop, complete with the old-fashioned pole with the spinning helix of red, white, and blue stripes. A florist, a vintage record shop, and of course, the bakery. Those were all in the main square. Downtown was also home to the hardware store, a plant nursery, the diner, and of course, Moonshiners.
But the B and B stood proudly there, beautified over the years to reflect his brother’s dream. Part of him was curious as to what the house looked like now. He remembered every square inch of that place. The secondhand furniture his mother had worked so hard to keep nice, the knickknacks she dusted every week, the yellow tile countertops she had insisted were charming but were simply ugly. Rafe knew the third step on the back staircase squeaked when you stepped on it, and the newel post on the front staircase wasn’t attached because Rafe had broken it off when he was four.
But the room he remembered most was Rex’s old bedroom. The blood that had splattered on the white wall behind where his father had been standing when—
The memory hit him with the impact of a freight train.
“Don’t … please don’t … God, don’t…”
Rafe came awake with a start, his ears perked to his brother’s coughing and sputtering, his inconsolable cries.
“Don’t!” Rex yelled. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
A horrible hacking laugh followed, drowned out by metal clanking on metal.
Rafe knew what was happening, knew he had to do something to stop it. Jolene had sounded the same way when she’d trapped Rafe in his bedroom that first time. If he was right, she was even using those same cuffs she’d strapped him to his own bed with.
Grabbing the shotgun Rex had hidden in the closet, Rafe stumbled to his feet. He knew it was loaded because Rex had shown him how to do it, and Rafe didn’t go to sleep without checking it every single night.
His breaths raced in his lungs, his heart pounding painfully in his ears.
