Page 29 of Bourbon and Secrets

“That would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? Bury shit, leave, tell everyone to fuck off so you can just do whatever you want with your life,” she calls after me.

I stop in my tracks and turn back to her. “Shut your fucking mouth, Maggie.”

“Why? Did I hit a nerve?” She sniffs a laugh. “Well, our mom cried for months.” Shaking her head, she grits her teeth. “Months. And you didn’t visit her. You barely called. And then it was like you never existed. So yeah, maybe everyone else around here is so enamored with the fact that you’ve come back, to what? Save your poor, fucked-up sister? Strip off your clothes so people will pay attention to you again?—”

“That’s enough,” Lincoln says from behind me, standing close enough for me to feel his warmth. I don’t expect it. And I hate that I like it.

She rolls her eyes. “Nice.” Her gaze flicks to Lincoln and then back to me. “You’re here less than a week and already under a man. Maybe you’re more like mom after all.”

Chapter 10

Faye

Five years ago. . .

“Mom, put the knife down,” I rush out. I can’t inhale a full breath into my lungs, so I swallow down the lump in my throat. Ignoring everything else, I stifle the wave of emotions that instantly drenched me when I walked into the kitchen. Instincts kicked in immediately.

Dark red blood drips over her hands and tracks down her wrists in rivulets, getting lighter the longer the air has a chance to greet it. It trickles and then disappears over the body lumped awkwardly on the linoleum floor. I may have hated the man, but I never pictured this. This can’t be undone.

I hold up my hands, showing I’m not a threat. I may not have a badge yet, but I know she needs to see I’m here to help. Tears stream down her face, her eyebrows pinched in anger and maybe confusion. Her chest rises and falls with every exaggerated breath, matching mine.

There isn’t time to process any of this. She may be shit in loving the right men, but my mother is kind and loves with her eyes and arms wide open. She’s always told me to follow my instincts and find a path that would make my soul happy. But this version of her, angry and shaken, is one I’ve never seen. I don’t want the rose-colored glasses removed or to know this version of her. But I catalog every detail without even realizing it. The low whistle from the wind outside. The glasses in the sink, the bourbon on the counter, the back screened door unlatched, the way she isn’t sad, but scared and in shock. I’m taking mental snapshots that’ll make it impossible to forget.

“Mom, look at me,” I say firmly.

She glances back up at me, slightly dazed. There’s a smear of blood along her lip from where it split. Pieces of hair stick to her neck. Shelby Calloway is a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t going to be one of them. I love her too much for that to be true.

I walk closer and hit the hot water valve with force. She doesn’t move; only stares into the stream of water beginning to steam.

I move around the body and tell her, “I’m going to call for some help?—”

“No!” she snaps, breaking her trance as she points at me. Her black mascara streaks down her face as if the darkness around this moment is bleeding into her.

She held her own with Tullis, but it never looked like love. When I was home, it felt more like “benefits.” Arguments and gaslighting disguised as passion. The horses she trains are more loyal than her live-in partner—people know he fucks around on her. I wonder if she does too. But she loves her job, training thoroughbreds for Finch & Kings Racing. If she broke up with Tullis King, she would find herself without a job. It isn’t right, but most of what men got away with in this town wasn’t. Everyone knows not to piss off Wheeler Finch and theKing brothers, Waz and Tullis. And now one of them was on our farmhouse floor, choking on his blood.

Fuck, he’s still alive.

The glasses piled in the sink clatter as water fills them. Mom drops the knife in and leans forward, her weight on her arms as she hovers over the farm sink with her eyes closed. “This isn’t...He’s dangerous, Faye.”

I pull my phone from my back pocket. “Mom, I need to call for help or else he’s going to bleed out.”

“You think the police are going to take my word here? You think those men aren’t on Finch & Kings’ payroll?” She laughs, but it’s one of panic. “I promise you I will not walk out of that police station if you call for help,” she says, shaking her head.

I want to be a part of the Fiasco police department, but she’s right; Tullis has friends, he and his brother have too much influence. There are too many people in higher places who would be able to spin this differently. She doesn’t deserve what would become of her.

I glance at Tullis again, his chest barely rising as his body awkwardly lies there.

I watch as the arm that’s tucked under his torso remains motionless. His fingers curve upwards, as if he’s holding a baseball. “A mishap of training,” he’d said. A horse stepping on a hand and the bones that hadn’t been set right. I hated his stories. They always seemed like half-truths.

I’ve always been good at thinking too many steps ahead, and every minute that ticked by would be studied and scrutinized by detectives and the district attorney. The longer we wait to call for help, the story changes from accident or self-defense to calculated and premeditated.

I turn it over in my head, heart racing and sweat beading along my hairline, watching her stare off and play over whatever just happened. She’s a single mother who had gottencaught up time and time again with trusting and loving the wrong people. It’s a cycle that got her here, to this moment. And it needs to stop now. I love her and Maggie more than anything, and I’ll protect the people I love over anything else.

I look again at Tullis, who’s bleeding out on the floor. There are two slices along each side of his neck, pulsing blood more slowly now. His chest stopped moving.

I clear my throat, making up my mind.

The things needed are in the barn.

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