Page 93 of Wilder Heart

Billy buried his fingers in his hair. “I just wanted you to see that he shouldn’tbehere.”

“That wasn’t your call,” Cash said.

“You weren’t here when he went down for murdering his dad, boss,” Billy said bitterly. “The whole town was changed by it. It was the first murder in Roselake in a hundred years. It was all anybody could talk about.”

“I was here,” Lain said slowly. “I was here when it happened. I was here while the ‘whole town’ looked at me with pity. I carried injuries from that night for weeks, and for the first time in my life, people actually saw them. They noticed the marks my dad had put on my body, where they’d once politely ignored them. This whole town let us down, andmy brotherwas the only one who stepped up to protect me that night.”

Billy didn’t raise his gaze from the edge of the desk. After a beat of silence, he said, “I’ll collect my stuff from the bunkhouse.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Lain agreed. “Wilder is about to be part-owner of this ranch. If you have this kind of problem with him, I don’t see how you can continue working for us.”

“Just like that, huh?” Billy asked.

“Holding on to these harsh judgments hurtsyoumore in the long run, Billy,” Cash said. “I suggest you find a way to let go of this anger.”

He could imagine, maybe, how shocking it was to hear that his sister’s boyfriend had killed someone—and not just anyone, but his own father. If the whole town had turned a blind eye to the abuse going on in the Blackwood house, maybe it truly had shaken the entire community when it all came to a bloody, violent head. And it was easier to blame the killer than to take a look at themselves and wonder why they’d refused to see the rot in their own neighborhood. And Billy, who’d been an adolescent at the time, had probably heard the adults discussing this over his head and seen his sister’s first heartbreak and internalized that Wilder was somehow the one most deserving of blame.

None of that excused what he’d done, though.

“Wilder could have been killed that day,” Cash said.

Billy sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean for him to fall like that. I thought maybe the saddle would come loose right away. He’d fall down, be humiliated, maybe he’d hold us up for a few minutes tightening it back up. I’d have pointed out how badly he must’ve put the saddle on the first time around and felt smug about planting some doubt about him in your heads. I never thought he’d fall likethatand get hurt.”

Cash didn’t think that was worth very much at all, actually, but Lain inclined his head politely.

“I understand,” Lain said magnanimously. “Unfortunately, Wilder’s place is here. That wasn’t ever going to change.”

“Yeah,” Billy said under his breath. “I guess I should’ve known.”

He slipped out of the room without another word, leaving Cash and Lain to stare dubiously at each other.

“I had no idea he had such complicated feelings about Wilder,” Lain finally said.

“I think this wholetownhas complicated feelings about Wilder, boss,” Cash replied.

Lain chuckled wearily, running a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right. Has… Has it been bad? Has he been having a hard time?”

“I think that’s probably something you should ask him. He keeps his feelings pretty close to the vest most days.”

Lain arched a brow at him, looking remarkably like his brother. “You’re saying you don’t know?”

Cash waffled. “No. I know some stuff. I don’t know how much he’d want me to tell you, though. I think it’d be better for both of you if you asked and gave him a chance to tell you himself.”

“But hehashad some trouble?”

“Of course, boss.” Cash tried not to soundtooexasperated. “He did eight years in the state pen formurder. People remember that. And he’s got those tattoos now, which doesn’t really help matters.”

“I’ve wanted to ask him about them so many times,” Lain said with a sigh.

“That is definitely something he’ll have to tell you himself.”

“But you know? What they mean and why he got them?”

“I do. He told me. That’s not something I’m willing to share unless he allows it.”

Lain nodded. “That’s fair. He’s entitled to his secrets and to share them when he wants.”

“I’m glad we agree.” It was an intimate moment when Wilder had shared that story, and Cash wouldn’t repeat it. Wilder didn’t trust easily, and Cash had worked too hard to earn it just to squander it so readily.

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