Now that piqued his interest. "Was she going to?"
"She said she'd married the man and she would stay with him through the trial for her daughter." The big blond guy shifted again in the seat too small for his frame, jeans and boots creaking with each attempt to get comfortable. "But once the trial was over, yeah, she was going to divorce him."
Hearing that shouldn't be so important, but oh, yeah, there came another nudge to his rocky restraint. And why was Vic sharing things guaranteed to make Paige seem more accessible?
Bo eased back on the throttle and leveled at altitude. "He didn't deserve her."
"Damn straight. Sure she made a mistake in marrying Haugen. We all make mistakes."
His voice roughened and he cleared his throat before continuing, "She just had to pay for hers and his. She says that's the price for trusting him."
He thought of the paperwork and legalities she'd mentioned haunting her even a year later. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"He broke her trust but she got back on her feet, dusted herself off, survived. Barely. I'm not so sure she can get up a second time."
Ah, the real message behind this talk. "She's stronger than you think."
Although he was feeling weaker by the day when it came to resisting Paige. Each new revelation about her offered another nudge to his self-control.
"I'd rather she not be put to the test."
"Fair enough." Yeah, he got it. Paige belonged here. She needed her independence. Bo tapped the fuel gauge again, watched it sink, calculated fuel again while the plane droned.
"Look, I've decided you're a good guy—"
Gee, thanks, dude.
"—and if things were different I could probably be okay with you hitting on my sister."
His hand shot out. "And don't even insult my intelligence by saying you haven't, because I've got eyes."
Bo chose his words carefully. "What I say or do with your sister is our business. But rest assured, I know she's better off without a guy like me complicating her life."
"Good. I'm not talking as an overprotective brother. I'm speaking as somebody who's been there. A person can look okay on the outside, getting out of bed each morning, facing the day and doing a job, but..."
Only a rock wouldn't feel sorry for the guy who'd lost his kid, then his wife, too, through divorce. "You don't need to say anything more."
"Yeah, well, thanks." Vic scrubbed a hand over his face and stared out the side window without blinking, his pain radiating every bit as strong as Seth's after a long day on his busted ankle.
Ah, hell.
He hated the suspicion crawling through his veins over how those drugs disappeared from the clinic. The guy had every reason to be depressed, a totally normal reaction.
Survivor's guilt could be hell. But could he have sought relief from the pain and grief through drugs? He'd discounted Vic earlier, figuring he could get whatever drugs he wanted. However Paige maintained records, too, and would notice discrepancies.
He understood well that guilt was a thousand times worse than a punch. Those first months after the shoot down, most nightmares had focused on Tag taking a boot to the ribs to shield him after his hands had been broken. So where did that leave questions about Vic Jansen?
Hell if he knew anything, except he couldn't see walking away from Paige until he had a few more answers.
Swiping his wrist under his nose, Vic shifted back to all gruff country vet again. "So you can keep your damn hands off my sister for a couple more days?"
Bo thumped the fuel gauge again. "I'm trying, dude, I'm trying."
Problem was, he figured one more nudge from Paige would do him in.
"I'm trying, Mom, but fractions are too hard for first graders, even Uncle Seth says so."
Sitting cross-legged on the blanket soaking up the late-afternoon sun, Paige took two deep breaths—three—then counted to ten for good measure. Doggone that Seth. Kirstie didn't need any help griping about math.