“I sowry,” Nathan said, appearing sad.
“I appreciate the apology,” May said, stooping to his level. She handed him two small bags. “Dillon said you didn’t have any snacks. I packed you and your brother some carrots and pretzels until you get home.”
“Tank you,” he said excitedly, taking the bags and grinning.
“Good job, buddy,” Owen praised him before turning to May. “How much do I owe you for breakfast?”
“Dillon already took care of it. Take care of him. He acts tough, but he’s a gentle soul who’s seen way too much,” she advised.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, taking Nathan’s hand and leading him from the restaurant. He placed him in his car seat. Passing the other bag to his brother, Nathan settled in and Owen slid into the driver’s seat.
Pressing the navigation button, he sighed in relief as he drove home. He wanted to talk to Leslie and spend time with his son. He hurt her. Thinking hegave her an out by walking out, he realized he ran away.
No one wanted anything to do with the Wolfe family after the shooting. Rumors flew through the small town like wildfire. People who rarely spoke with his mom showed up at the funeral, not because they wanted to pay their respects. They wanted gossip.
The boys accepted their condolences, still in shock over the events. When they returned home, Owen went into the office, placing the cards and his mother’s death certificate on the desk. Tomorrow, they’d sit at the table and write out the thank-you cards.
Stopping in the hallway, he heard the brothers talking.
“It’s my fault,” Wyatt cried. “If I didn’t get the gun, Mom would still be here.”
“It’s not your fault,” Cade replied. “Dad wrestled Owen for the gun.”
“It might not have happened if Owen kept his mouth shut about Dad,” Dillon said heatedly. “It’s no secret where Dad went or what he did. Owen told Mom, and she went to get Dad. Why didn’t he leave it alone?”
“Owen told Mom?” Elias asked, confused.
“Yeah. He told her at breakfast. I heard him,” Wyatt spoke up.
“Damn it, Owen. Why didn’t you ignore seeing him?” Cade said angrily. “He acts like he’s our damn father.”
“I’m sick of him bossing me around. It’s his fault Momdied,” Dillon sobbed. “If he kept his mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened.”
The words tore at Owen’s chest, like knives slashing his skin wide open. He told his mother because the town gossiped about his dad’s drinking. Kids tormented him and Cade about his dad’s whereabouts and his drinking. To hear Cade rip him apart stung the most. When the others joined in, the hurt and betrayal of his four brothers, after all he sacrificed for them, shifted something inside him. Owen turned down a four-year scholarship to attend a community college away from home to help his mom with his brothers. He didn’t want Cade and Dillon dealing with his father alone. Usually, Dillon remained the quiet one in the group. Cade always lost his cool. It felt like his brothers turned on him. If they didn’t want him to guide them anymore, then he’d remove himself.
He packed his bag and headed down the stairs when he heard Cade say, “Did you hear the women asking Leslie if she planned to cancel the wedding? He’ll make her the laughing stock of this town. We still don’t know what they’ll do about Dad.”
He turned the curve, and his phone dinged with messages. Glancing at the screen, he saw Gunny’s text, and he missed a call from Leslie in the middle of the night and then again in the wee hours of the morning.
When he left her, she didn’t seem anxious to ask questions. Leslie only wanted to ensure he didn’t hurt her son. Not wanting the entire van to hear themessage, he opted to call her instead. Owen wanted her to know that this time he planned to return.
Hitting dial, he listened as the phone rang.
Tucker’s voice came over the line, “Hello?”
“Hi, Tucker. It’s Owen. May I speak with your mom?” he asked.
“Ummm, I’m the one who called you. We need your help. A man broke into our house and got into a fight with Mom. After the police arrived, she told us to pack our bags, and we planned to head to Grandpa’s, but the truck didn’t start,” he blurted.
“Whoa,” Owen said. “Slow down. Where did you go?”
“We’re on the mountain. They searched for us and wanted to hurt Mom. We left our bikes in the ditch and hiked to Grandpa’s secret cave. She has a big cut on her arm from the man who attacked her,” he told Owen, his voice cracking.
“It’s all right, son,” he said, feeling something stir deep in his chest at calling Tucker his. “What’s going on with your mom? She has a cut, and what else?”
“She’s running a fever. Conner tried waking her up when we saw the man on the ridge. She’s burning up, but when we searched for the phone and unzipped the sleeping bag, she got the chills,” Tucker informed him. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Tucker, it’s your Uncle Dillon. Does the spring still run in the back?” he asked.
