The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5)

“Yeah, she had to take the papers into town and wants to get a few things for a special last-night dinner.”

The three of us share a look, and I have no doubt they feel the same sense of dread that I do. We’re moving out tomorrow, into community housing at the new Lodge. Not exactly the place for an unconventional relationship. She still hasn’t said, maybe doesn’t know, where she’ll go after she sells the house.

None of us wants to give this up, but Sierra has to figure out what she wants next in her life.

Smith’s fingers grip the window. “Let me grab my stuff.”

He straightens, about to head back into the shack, when I see Brent walking up.

“Hold up,” he calls. He’s carrying envelopes in his hands. “The compensation came through for your losses during the fire.”

I frown at the envelope he hands me. I hadn’t thought much about any kind of compensation. We’d filled out forms after the fire, listing our possessions. There’d also been other assessments for overtime and displacement; a stipend for housing.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Brent says, waving to us and walking back to his truck.

Holden tears open his envelope. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Smith asks, ripping into his. “Fuck.”

I follow suit, easing open the flap. My heart pounds, terrified at their reaction. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d been screwed on pay. The government shut-downs are the worst.

I pull out the check and my eyes nearly pop out of my head at the number listed on the right-hand corner.

“Is this for real?” I ask.

Holden holds up his. It’s for nearly an identical amount. Same with Smith.

Seeing the dollar amount triggers something in my head—an idea—a dream, maybe. I put the truck in reverse, taking care not to back over anyone, and head to the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Holden asks. I don’t have to look to see that Smith is staring after me.

I slam the car in park and grab the check, gesturing for Holden to follow.

“I think I have an idea.”

33

Sierra

Standing by the Jeep, I perform the challenge of juggling grocery bags and looking for my keys at the same time. I’ve got steak, potatoes, and enough beer and wine to hopefully soften the blow of the conversation we’re going to have tonight.

It was hard not to notice how together the boys were today. They have plans, big ones, and are weeks away from launching into their future. And the Rangers…they’re passionate and dedicated to their jobs. We’re selling the house, Dex is taking care of the Wayward Sun. There’s only one thing—well, three—keeping me from starting fresh and finally figuring out what I want in life.

I’m not running.

I’m not.

But I am tired of treading water.

With the keys finally clasped tight in my fingers, I manage to get it into the slot without dropping anything. Once I load up, I see the thick envelope I need to take over to Monica’s office. I grab it and slam the door shut, knowing the food should be okay since I only have to drop it off. I turn the corner and head across Main Street.

That’s when I see Reid.

I panic, frozen in place, nausea engulfing me.

He’s walking down the street, six pack of beer in his hand. He looks up and our eyes meet.

He can’t know I’m scared. He can’t know I’m about to barf. He doesn’t know that all I can think about is his violating hands and foul breath.