As she rushed into her father’s bedroom, gratitude and relief soared through her. He wasn’t awake, but he was alive. A chair and table had been upended, items and pictures from the top of his dresser scattered and broken. A framed picture of Silas and Mia was distorted by shattered glass.
Still, her father slept on, oblivious to the chaos Regina had staged. Jarvis had been right. There was no telling what might have happened if he and his brother hadn’t shown up in time. Guilt blotted out the relief and tears threatened. She’d ruined everything, damaged something beautiful between her and Jarvis.
When the paramedics arrived, she stepped aside, watched with a new fear as they gathered the pill bottles from the nightstand and transferred her father from the bed to the stretcher, wheeling him away.
Chapter 12
Jarvis listened to the updates on Spencer’s police scanner as Regina fumed in the back seat. She tossed out threats even after Spencer read her her rights.
The ambulance was transporting Norton Graves to Mustang Valley General Hospital. He was sure Mia was with them. At the very least, she was following. Maybe he’d see her again when she returned the truck. A pulse of heat zipped through his veins at the idea. He was a fool.
Seeing her again wouldn’t change the facts. She was more than a beautiful woman he’d fallen for. She and Silas were a ready-made family he wasn’t convinced he could have.
“How do you do it?” he asked Spencer when Regina had been hauled deeper into the police station for processing.
“Do what?”
“Love. Your relationship with Katrina.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You put your life on the line in this job.”
“Not too often,” Spencer said. “Is there a question in there?”
“Everyone left us,” Jarvis said. “Everyone has let us down. What made you take that kind of chance?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t exactly choose that car wreck,” Spencer said. “Aunt Amelia did her best by us, considering she wound up with three kids when she didn’t want any.”
Jarvis slumped into a chair near his brother’s desk, one normally reserved for criminals in processing. He should be happy Mia and Silas were out of danger, but he kept thinking about that expectant look on her face. Thinking about the promise he’d made that he had to break. Anything else would be emotional suicide.
“I’ve let her down,” he muttered.
“Mia?”
Jarvis nodded. To be fair, she’d let him down, too, when she rushed into danger. “I can’t be what she needs.”
“Why the hell not?” Spencer demanded.
“Come on.” He stood up, restless. “She has a kid. Me and fatherhood? That’s a joke.”
Spencer leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the armrests. “Is it? Do you love her?”
“How would I know?”
Spencer glared at him. “Only you can answer that.” From the back, they heard Regina shouting. “Get out of here,” he said. “I’ll keep you posted.” He clapped Jarvis on the shoulder as he walked by. “You do the same.”
Twitchy as the adrenaline faded, Jarvis didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t ready to go back to the ranch and talk with Asher. Spencer didn’t need him here and neither did Mia. She
was set now that her stepmother was in custody and she had her father back.
Family sucked, he thought. Always had. He walked out of the police station, guilt digging into the back of the neck. Mia and Silas were a family and they didn’t suck at all.
No, Mia and Silas were a sweet temptation he’d never expected to crave.
Jarvis slid into the driver’s seat of the old pickup and tried to imagine how he’d fill his time without them. The idea left him hollow. He’d found evidence that his family, several messy generations ago, had tried their best with various degrees of success. All the way down to his parents.
Lost in his wandering thoughts, Jarvis drove through town, a little surprised to find himself at his aunt’s old house. They’d sold it right after she died. He wouldn’t find absolution here. He drove on to the cemetery where his parents, Amelia and his granddad were buried.
Herman’s box had slipped out from under the towel, like some ghostly challenge. Jarvis owed it to Isaiah to let someone know the old man had been right about the family legend, even if those folks weren’t around anymore.
With the box under his arm, he walked out toward their graves, staring down at the headstones. “I found it,” he said to the hushed cemetery. “The old family legend is true. Isaiah wasn’t just drunk or confused.” He sat down, resting the box on his crossed legs. “I found the box Herman buried.”