Buckled (Trails of Sin 2)

“I want you and Raina gone by nightfall.” I glance at the position of the sun beyond the office window. “You have three hours to gather your shit.”

It feels weird standing on this side of a confrontation with him. Giving orders rather than receiving them. It’s empowering.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Dad scans the office, his usual dominant demeanor weakening by the second. “Let me stay. I’ll pull my weight on the ranch and make it up to you.”

He looks tired, a defeated old man who long ago exhausted his sixty years. He still has his hair—thick and dark, peppered with silver. He’s still physically fit, strong limbs and a sturdy build. Except for his gut, which extends past his belt buckle from years of laziness and self-indulgence. Maybe his appearance hasn’t changed much, but I see him differently now. He no longer holds power over me, and he knows it.

“We’re five years past amnesty.” I stand and head toward the door, lingering on the threshold. “If you turn us in for crimes you believe we committed, we’ll kill you. If you harm a hair on Conor’s head, we’ll kill you. If you kill us, the evidence we hold against you will be delivered to people we trust. People on the right side of the law who would love to put you and Sheriff Fletcher behind bars for the rest of your miserable lives.”

Lorne has access to every piece of evidence we hold and can do a hellacious amount of damage with it from prison.

“I pity you.” Dad rises from the chair and circles the desk, his posture relaxed and nonthreatening. “You think you’re smarter than me? A better man? Yet you’re willing to kill your own flesh and blood. That makes you truly evil.”

The fact that I’m letting him live proves him wrong. But there’s an iota of truth in his statement. A man cannot be good unless he possesses the capacity to be evil. Decency is a choice. It’s being tempted by hatred and following a different path no matter how difficult. It’s looking inward with a magnifying glass and acknowledging the flaws and weaknesses in one’s character.

It’s the terrible ache for revenge and choosing to let it go.

“We’re showing you mercy.” I grip the door frame, giving him my back. “Don’t squander it. You have three hours to disappear.”

I leave him there to regret his consequences. Or to make more mistakes. Whatever happens next is up to him.

Walking from one end of our eight-thousand-square-foot estate to the other, I enter the Cassidy wing. Jake completely renovated this space with his bare hands. He rebuilt it for him and Conor, knowing full well he may have lost her for good.

I find him in the master suite, staring at the mural that represents the horse impressionist paintings Conor collected as a child.

“Will he give us trouble?” Jake asks, without moving his eyes from the wall.

“Not sure.” I lower onto the bed behind him. “He knows we did him a favor by erasing his debts, and he gains nothing by going after us.”

“Except revenge.”

“Maybe. But I think he’s too tired to take us on. He’s not the same man who raised us.”

“We’re not the same, either.” He reaches out and traces a brush stroke along one of the painted stallions. “I used to be worthy of Conor. I was a proud, dependable man with a lot to offer her. But not anymore. Even if she returns—”

“You’re still that man, Jake. And she will return.”

“For the blood oath. She won’t come back for me. Not that I blame her. I chased her away, as effectively as possible. And now… If she’s happy with that fucking professor…” His shoulders tense, and he grips his brow as if in pain. “If she’s truly happy, I won’t interfere. I’ve caused her enough heartbreak.”

“Will you tell her about that night in the barn?”

“I’ll tell her everything. She deserves to know.”

My lovesick brother waited years to have sex, just so he could give her his virginity. Since it was anonymous, in the darkness of an abandoned barn, Conor doesn’t know it was him. He gave himself to her, and she thinks she had sex with a stranger. He won’t admit it, but I know that hurts him more than anything.

He lowers his arms, flexing his hands at his sides. Then he slides down the wall and pulls his knees to his brow.

Every tense inch of him radiates misery and loneliness. He’s been watching Conor from afar for the past few years. The moment she began dating Miles York, Jake lost parts of himself he’ll never get back.

He started fucking a lot of women, night after night, treating them in ways I didn’t think he was capable. He used them to channel his rage. His grief. But it only heightened his guilt over the wrongs that were done to Conor.