Page 11 of Dirty Secret Love

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he teases, leaving me utterly baffled.

ChapterFive

River

The last hourof my life feels like it belongs in a dream—or a television drama.

Seriously, what on earth possessed me? No, really, I should file it under: what the fuck was I thinking?

I was about to say no to Sutton’s proposal, but then Mrs. Asher waltzed in with her haughty demeanor and piercing critiques. She eerily mirrored Flora’s behavior and her relentless criticism of Genevieve.

My poor older sister has to deal with a horrible person as a mother. No wonder Gen liked Mom better. When we were growing up, she’d ask my father if she could spend more time with us than in her own house. Flora agreed as long as it didn’t affect the monthly child support.

Mom always welcomed her and never treated her like a stepchild—she was my sister, the same as Elle. Suzie Thorndale wasn’t perfect, but she was loving and compassionate.

Since I can’t offer my mother to Sutton so she can feel less crappy about herself, the next best thing is accepting to be her fiancé. And as an added bonus, I’ll be moving into a house that hopefully has all the comforts of modern life—television, computers, and the luxury of a landline. If I play my cards right, I might be able to convince Sutton to take me away from this godforsaken town for a weekend or two.

But before I can pack the little shit I own and change my address, I have to discuss this with my family, starting with Callahan. He’s the middleman between CQS and the rest of us. I’m not thrilled he’s in charge of communicating with them, but I have to accept it since he now works for them.

It’s not hard to find him. When he’s not at CQS headquarters, he’s at the barn with the horses. He’s been learning how to ride and spends so much of his time brushing and talking to them. I don’t understand why, but he says it’s part of his therapy.

Why he has to be in therapy is beyond me.

Nothing against mental health. My grandparents sent me to a grief counselor when Mom was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer and was told she didn’t have much time left. I’m not sure if it helped me with the loss, but I spent several years visiting my counselor’s office in hopes that the hole her absence left would be filled—it’s still hollow, and the pain remains, though.

Just as I’m getting lost in thought, I hear that oh-so-familiar snark. “What do you want, asshole?” I walk closer and find Callahan brushing Hoof Jackman.

“You’re in a good mood,” I say, making sure my voice drips with enough sarcasm to irk him.

“It’s been a shitty day,” he admits, his gaze fixated on the horse, fingers deftly working a brush through its mane. His jawline hardens in frustration.

“Every day in Heartwood Lake is shitty for the Thorndales,” I say sarcastically, not adding that the people in this town seem too happy to be real. “We’re trapped—with each other. I’m surprised we’re all still alive.”

“There’s that too,” he concedes, lips twitching into a smirk. Maybe he thinks the same as I do. Being together isn’t as bad as it used to be when our father was alive.

“So, what’s happening?” I ask. It’s best if he gets whatever’s bothering him off his chest before I give him my news.

He sighs heavily. “Slade decided not to move in with Drake. He’s moving in with me,” he growls, his grip on the horse brush tightening.”It’s not like I have any medical knowledge. How am I supposed to take care of him?”

Our brother is a SEAL, and he got hurt during a mission. After a prolonged hospital stay, he was moved to the small-town clinic for further care, and now . . . well, we’re supposed to care for him.

“Doesn’t he get a nurse?” I probe, tilting my head. “Someone professional who can assist?”

“Nope. He only has therapists who’ll come to help me occasionally,” he states. “And I don’t even have room to drag one of you to the cabin so you can help me.”

“Can you explain to him that Drake’s house is better?” I suggest, trying to sound casual. “It has not one, but two doctors to look after him.”

“There’s a child there,” he counters.

“What does he have against Milo? I love that kid.” Drake’s stepson is incredibly funny and loving. I don’t mind babysitting him when his parents want a little break. “Maybe he could help with his recovery?”

Callahan shrugs in exasperation. “Who the fuck knows? I just know that I’m doomed.”

“Why not send him to stay with your mom?” I throw the idea out there. Donna is cool, and I’m sure she’ll agree to take care of him.

“His mother is dying—and Leonora didn’t like Mom.” He lets out a loud breath and clears the sweat off his forehead. “This fucking family is too complicated. Sometimes, I wonder if it’d be safer to be a sitting duck outside in the real world than here, dealing with all the Thorndale drama.”

“You’re an FBI agent. Why don’t you shoot whoever pisses you off and call it self-defense or some shit like that?” I joke, hoping it’ll help with his mood.

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