Holding On (Haven, Montana Book 3)

by Jill Sanders

  Trey woke the next morning and felt every ache in every muscle, and every scratch on his very tender skin. Before he could sit up, Dylan was there with a glass of water and a pill. He wanted to deny that he needed them, but he could see the determined look in her eyes and knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “Can I shower?” he asked her after making his way into the bathroom.

  She turned and gave him a look. “The doctor said it all depends on how your skin looks.” She carefully helped him off with his bandages.

  He was surprised at how good his skin looked. There were red spots with small blisters in some areas, but for the most part, he doubted he’d have any major scars. He was thankful he’d had the water to protect him most of the time.

  When she unwrapped his left hand, he winced. His fingers were puffy and swollen.

  Dylan let out a quiet gasp when she saw them. “You’ll have to keep this hand out of the water,” she said. She looked at him with sad eyes, and he gently took her hand.

  “I’m here and I’m in one piece. More or less.” He tried to lighten the mood by joking, but seeing the sadness in her eyes, he pulled her close. “I’m okay, really.” He tested his left hand and relaxed slightly when the pain there was minimal. “See?” He moved his hand several times for her. “Minimal pain. It’s just swollen.”

  She nodded and wiped a tear from her eyes. “When I think of how lucky we got…” She held onto him again. She was right, they had gotten lucky. They had another chance, another day together. There wasn’t going to be a day from here on out that he didn’t remember just how lucky he was.

  She pulled back and scanned his face, then she chuckled and put her fingers into his hair. “We’ll have to do something about this mess.”

  “Chop it all off.” He nodded to the scissors on the countertop.

  “I… I don’t think I can.”

  “Then I will…” He reached for the scissors, but she stopped him.

  “No.” She took them up. “I’ll do it. Maybe I can save some of it.”

  He shrugged. “It grows back fast.”

  For the next hour, he sat still as she took her time chopping off his hair. As the curls dropped to the floor, he wondered how he’d let it grow that long in the first place.

  Dylan had been right—time had flown by since he’d moved in with her. Spring was in full swing and it seemed like just yesterday that he’d spotted her sexy legs on the sticky dance floor.

  She handed him a mirror and he smiled at the very short haircut.

  “Remind me to give you a tip, later.” He smiled and pulled her close. “Come on, I think I’ll call this good enough to shower.” He pulled her into the shower with him, and she helped him gently clean his skin. Then he sat on the edge of the bathtub while she lathered salve all over him and rebandaged the worst areas.

  When her phone chimed, he reached for it. He’d told everyone to contact him at her number until his new phone could be delivered later that day.

  “Tony wants us down at the station. I’d hoped to avoid being seen in public for a few days.” He glanced down at the bandages. He knew that all of Haven knew exactly what he’d gone through, and he wasn’t ready for all the attention he was sure he was going to get.

  “How about we stop off and get some donuts and coffee for the entire station? After all the demanding work they’ve had in the past few days.” Dylan suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan.” His stomach growled at the mention of donuts.

  She helped him get dressed, which was a little more difficult than he’d imagined. His skin was still tender and with his sore muscles, he moved more slowly and stiffly than before.

  After stopping off at the donut shop and loading up with five boxes of donuts, they pulled into the parking lot of the station. The place was packed with news vans, and he immediately wished he could hide.

  “Think we can sneak in the back?” Dylan asked, looking out the front windshield.

  “It looks like it’s too late.” Several cameras had already turned their way.

  “How about we run for it?” she suggested.

  “You take the donuts. I’ll handle this and meet you inside.” He took the coffee cups and reached for the door handle.

  “No, I’m not leaving you to the wolves.” She glanced out and he realized the car was surrounded already.

  He chuckled. “I’d hate for you to get swallowed. Go on inside. I’ll answer a handful of questions then head in.”

  “Okay, but if you need me…” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it gently. Several camera flashes went off and he groaned at the lack of privacy.

  He was bombarded with shouted questions the moment he stepped out of the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dylan being shuffled towards the back of the growing crowd.

  “How did you get out of the blast zone?”

  “Is this a family feud?”

  “Did you have anything to do with the explosion?”

  He stood in front of the station doors and held up his hands.

  “Thank you all for your concern. I’m very lucky to be here today. Our prayers go out to everyone who has been affected by the fire. We wanted to shout out a huge thank you to all the firefighters and emergency personnel who have worked hard to ensure the safety of everyone in town.” He took a breath. More questions were shouted at him and he decided enough was enough. “Thank you,” he turned and entered the building.

  “Nicely handled, kid.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder, and Trey winced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled, then glanced around. “Where’s Dylan?”

  “In the back, handing out donuts.”

  He followed Tony into Mike’s office.

  “Good, you made it through the buzzards,” Mike said as Trey took a seat.

  “We have a positive ID of the body found near the site.” He glanced up at him. “Steven Rice.”

  “Not Dennis?” Trey asked.

  “No, the car was under Dennis’ name, but with dental records, we’ve positively ID that Rice was the one found.”

  “Why would Dad’s lawyer be in a car rented by Dennis Rodgers with the trunk full of explosives?”

  “We’ve been asking ourselves that question since we found out,” Mike said.

  Chapter 21

  The entire town of Haven was on edge the following few days.

  Dennis Rodgers was brought in and questioned. Everyone wished they could be in on the questioning, but so far, the police were keeping the outcome quiet. The fact that he was released less than five hours after walking into the station told everyone that the police had no proof Dennis had killed Steven Rice or knew anything about how the man had ended up in a car leased to him.

  The rumor going around was that he hadn’t known of the rental car and there was no proof he was the man who’d picked up the car in the first place. His ex-wife, Chrystal, confirmed that he had been at her place picking up their kids for a planned visit when the explosion had happened.

  No one doubted her word anymore, now that she was officially free from his grasp.

  Dylan was thankful when the media frenzy died down in Haven. Now that the fire was completely out, the town quickly went to work cleaning up the mess. The town came together to help those who had lost their homes. Donations were collected, temporary housing was arranged, and everything seemed to get back to normal.

  It was Trey’s first full week back out in the field. He’d been stuck in the office for almost two full weeks.

  No one had seen or heard from he’d stopped by the day that she’d been attacked. Still, she was never left alone at the office, and she was thankful for it. She doubted she could handle another bump to the head.

  They’d had a few other McGowan family meetings, which were always planned around meals. They’d discussed what they should do next and how to keep everyone safe, and Dylan started to feel like part of the family. It felt wonderful.

 
Their weekends were spent working on the new house on Trey’s property. Even her brother pitched in before he left for North Dakota. He’d postponed his trip a full week after the fire. Tom’s family had lost their barn and he had helped rebuild it before they headed out to their new jobs.

  It was hard seeing the garage apartment empty and not seeing his truck parked in the driveway. This was the first time she’d ever been away from him for any length of time. She knew it was a good thing for him to get out on his own, but she hadn’t thought she’d miss him this much.

  She’d run into Darla several times at the store. She swore the woman showed up whenever she pulled into the parking lot. The last time, she’d planned out what she would say to her. It had gone over just as she’d imagined and, since then, Darla hadn’t bumped into her again.

  Dylan smiled remembering the run-in. She’d gone to the store after work to get a few items for a dinner she was planning to make for Trey.

  She’d turned the corner aisle towards the back of the store, near the milk and eggs. Darla had been standing in the middle of the aisle, her arms crossed over her ample chest, blocking the way.

  “Darla.” She’d tried to pass by her, but the woman had gripped her cart, her eyes narrowed in her direction.

  “Where’s your brother?” she’d hissed.

  “He’s moved on. Isn’t it about time you did the same?” she said clearly.

  “I’m pregnant,” Darla had blurted out. If she hadn’t heard how Darla had dealt with Addy’s family, she would have believed her. Instead, she maneuvered her cart around her. “Once you have a paternity test confirm it’s my brother’s, our lawyer will be in contact. Until then”—she narrowed her eyes—“try barking up someone else’s tree.”

  “You’ll see when I have my baby, our baby,” Darla had screamed after her. Several people rolled their eyes in Dylan’s direction when they passed by. “I am pregnant!” She stomped her foot and shouted at the passersby.

  Dylan had almost laughed as she walked out of the store.

  A spring snowstorm hit shortly after that. Trey had helped her cover her flowers with trash bags before the storm hit so they wouldn’t be shocked and freeze. They had sprouted up even faster after the cold weather passed.

  It was strange, having seventy-degree weather the day after a snowstorm that had brought in almost a foot of the white stuff.

  Now everything was melting and muddy as the men worked on laying the foundation for the new house. The cement was due to arrive in a few days, and the men were hooking up the rough-in plumbing and electricity.

  The log home kit had arrived, and the massive pieces were set where Trey planned on building a three-car garage. A large crane had been set up to lift the pieces into place.

  It was another warm Saturday and Dylan and Addy were glued to their computer screens as they sat in the shade of a cluster of trees. Her classes had started up again, and she was worried that this time she’d bitten off more than she should have. She had thought she had plenty of time to take six classes, but she was finding it harder to set time aside now that she was helping Trey out at the property. Not that she was doing much, just giving her opinions and helping rake dirt now and then. But she found it harder to concentrate on her classes when Trey was strutting around in front of her without a shirt on, all sweaty and looking like a true mountain man.

  After the haircut she’d given him to fix the parts of his hair that had been singed by the fire, his hair had grown back quickly. It was still shorter than before, but the curls were already coming back.

  Trey’s skin had healed quickly with her help. He only had one little scar on his wrist, just under his owl tattoo. He mentioned often how good it felt to regain his strength.

  His brothers still gave him grief about his shorter hair, but for the most part, Dylan could tell they were happy he had come out of the ordeal nearly unscathed.

  They were just shutting down for the evening when a truck pulled into the driveway. A man in a suit stepped out and worry flooded Dylan instantly.

  “You must be lost,” Trey called out.

  “I’m looking for the McGowans?” The man walked slowly towards them.

  “You found them.” Tyler tossed down the towel he’d been using to wipe his face. “I’m Tyler McGowan. Can I help you?”

  “I’m here about Carl McGowan.” The man extended his hand.

  “You are?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m Don Hathaway, Carl McGowan’s new lawyer. He’s hired me to oversee his affairs.”

  “What affairs?” Tyler asked.

  “Well, that’s what I’d like to meet with you all about, if possible.” The man glanced between the three brothers. “Do you have someplace we can talk?”

  “Back up at the main house.” Tyler pointed to his mother’s place. “I’m sure our mother would want to hear what you have to say.”

  “I’ll follow you up there.” The man walked back to his car.

  “Just what we need, another lawyer,” Trey said under his breath.

  “Let’s see what the man has to say. I’m curious what our dear uncle thinks he needs a lawyer for,” Tyler added as they all piled into their trucks.

  When they arrived up at Gail’s place, she was waiting for them. Tyler had called her and let her know they was coming.

  They all gathered around the living area and, after introductions were made, Don Hathaway pulled out a piece of paper.

  “As I mentioned, I was hired to represent Carl McGowan in a suit to contest his brother’s will.”

  It wasn’t a big surprise to the family. Dylan noticed several of them sigh with frustration.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Hathaway, but this will be the second time Carl has tried such actions,” Gail said.

  “I’m aware of that. I’m also aware that your late husband, Thurston, has been deceased almost two years now. The statute of limitations in the state of Montana only allows up to two years, which is why Carl is contesting his brother’s will now.”

  “Son of a…” Tyler ran his hands through his hair.

  “My husband’s last will was sound. It’s already been proven…” Gail started.

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t made myself clear. We are not contesting the will that was read shortly after your late husband’s death.”

  “Then what are you contesting?” Gail asked.

  “The new will that has been filed in the last few months. The one that Carl McGowan found at the hunting lease that post-dates the first will read.”

  “What?” several people said at once.

  “The will was filed by a…” He shuffled through his paperwork.

  “Steven Rice?” Tyler asked before the new lawyer could find the name.

  “Yes, how did…” The man shook his head. “Anyway, the new will was presented and verified on the twenty-second of last month.”

  “The day before the explosion,” Trey added softly. “The day before Steven Rice was found shot to death.”

  To his credit, Don Hathaway looked shocked. He set down the stack of papers he held. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

  “Steven Rice, the lawyer who filed my father’s supposedly new will, was found murdered a day after he filed it. We have reason to believe that Carl had something to do with his murder.”

  Dylan hadn’t heard that bit of news, but figured Tyler knew more than she did and kept her mouth shut.

  “I see.” The man sighed. “In light of these new circumstances, I’ll postpone my own filing until I can do a little digging myself.” He moved to get up.

  “Mr. Hathaway, is there any chance you have a copy of the new will my husband supposedly made?” Gail asked.

  “Yes.” The man dug through his case. “In the will, Thurston McGowan the second left everything to his youngest son, Thurston Noah McGowan the third.”

  The room was silent as every eye turned to Trey. Everyone remained silent as Gail showed the lawyer out.

  “What the hell?” Tyler
turned back to the room. “There is no way in hell Dad would leave everything to only one of us.”

  “Of course not,” Gail said as she walked back in. “This is just another way for Carl to get at us,” she said, looking down at the paperwork. “The signature looks real.” She held it up for the three boys to see.

  “I’ve seen Dad’s chicken scratches enough to know that it’s real, but the question is, did he know what he was signing or is it from something else?” Tyler sighed. “I’ll take this home and read through it.”

  “Why would Carl be contesting this will? Does he really think he could win this fight when he didn’t win the fight against a will that left everything to all of us?”

  “You don’t think…” Trey started but then stopped.

  “What?” Dylan encouraged him.

  “You don’t think that Carl blew the pipe with me standing next to it so he could contest the new will that, upon my death, left everything dad left us, including McGowan Enterprises uncontested?”

  The fact that his uncle had probably tried to murder him to get his hands on his family’s business and money weighed heavily on Trey, and he found it impossible to sleep that night.

  There had been lots to discuss after the lawyer had left and everyone agreed that, no matter the signature, the document was an obvious fake. It went against everything his father had set in motion with his mother. His parents’ relationship had been solid. So solid that they had talked about every aspect of their lives, including their deaths.

  After trying to sleep for about an hour, he pushed Dopey off his feet and slowly got out of the bed, making sure not to wake Dylan.

  Taking her laptop, he crept downstairs and sat at the table to do his own research. The first thing he looked up was the new lawyer. Don Hathaway had an office in Butte, which lead him to question what Carl had been doing in Butte. Could he be hiding there still?

  A few hours later, he gently woke Dylan up as the sun started to rise.

  “What’s up?” she asked, scooting up and blinking.

  “God, you look amazing in the morning.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. It was true. He’d spent a few moments just watching her sleep before waking her.