by Helm, Nicole
Those words echoed inside of him, reminding him of old feelings, old desperate wishes that he thought had died long ago.
“I thought it was my personality, because it was the last thing she said to me. She told me to take care of everyone. So, I latched on. Like doing it could keep her alive even though I knew it couldn’t.”
The days after losing Susannah had been especially dark. Fritz had been inconsolable, the girls had been so young, and he and Colt and Bracken had been so…worried. Worried they’d have to go back to who and what they’d been before Susannah had saved them.
But that had been a long time ago. In the here and now Pen had to finally understand she didn’t have to be the only one taking care. “Last thing she said to Bracken, too.”
“What?”
“She asked him to watch out for you girls. You don’t think he trails after Mack for fun, do you? Or it’s a coincidence they find themselves on the same rodeo circuit.”
“I…” Pen blinked and then let out a sad little laugh. “Well.” She seemed to think that over, but didn’t seem upset about it. Not really. Still, she was serious as she watched the moon rise. “Dad and Sadie too. I suppose she said it to all of us.”
He shook his head slowly, wishing he didn’t have to picture that last all over again.
“She didn’t say it to you?” Pen demanded.
“No,” Ethan said, hoping that would be it. Even knowing it wouldn’t be.
“So what did she say then?”
“She said…” Ethan blew out a breath. “‘I’m sorry I have to go so soon.” But she’d never asked him to care for anyone, look out for anyone. And Ethan had always known why.
Susannah had wanted to save him, had saved him. She’d blackmailed his father into leaving town without Ethan, but she hadn’t been able to beat Abe Thompson. She hadn’t been able to arrest him or prove anything he’d done.
Mostly thanks to Ethan’s mother refusing to corroborate anything Ethan said, claiming both her children were in desperate need of a mental health evaluation.
Ethan might have been saved thanks to Susannah knowing enough of her father’s secrets to make him wary, but not enough to put Abe behind bars. Ethan wasn’t free from his father’s reach or his father’s name.
So she’d only been able to apologize to him, knowing she was dying. She hadn’t asked anything of a man so connected to something so bleak.
It took him a while to come out of that memory, to remember where he was and who he was with. To regret he hadn’t changed the subject or made something up.
Because Pen was crying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just—”
She waved him off. “I asked. I needed to know. I… I put it all away to take care of everyone else, and now I guess I have to let it all out.” She sniffled miserably, a little sob escaping her mouth after that. “And I don’t want to cry in front of anyone else.”
He’d known his whole life how cruel words could be, but those might be the cruelest he’d ever heard. All the things he wanted wrapped up in all the things he couldn’t have.
But for a second or two, he had to be what she needed. For Pen. “Shh, now,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “You don’t have to.” He didn’t want her crying in front of anyone else if it meant he got to comfort her.
You shouldn’t.
But even that voice inside his head couldn’t argue with a crying woman.
She sniffled and nestled in, wrapping her good arm around him. So, he held her while she cried and tried not to let his mind wander. Or worse, dream.
“The nice thing about the police is you can almost always be guaranteed they’ve seen way worse than your emotional breakdown,” she said in a squeaky voice, her cheek pressed to his chest and her arm holding him tightly.
Not tight enough to blame this crushing sensation in his chest on, but it’d go away. It’d go away eventually.
“We have indeed,” he responded, baffled by how rusty his voice sounded. Since he was a cop, he had held more than one stranger while she cried over a variety of things. He’d seen people rage over awful things. This was a little blip of a nothing when it came to the emotional outbursts he’d seen.
But it was Pen, so it hurt him to see her hurt.
She let out a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders, releasing him slowly. “Emotional release is good for grief,” she said, as if reciting a poem. “A natural response to loss.”
Ethan didn’t know what to do with that—he imagined some words her therapist had given her to deal with Henry’s death.
It all settled very uncomfortably, like the sound of nails on a chalkboard making his skin prickle. Emotional release.
Controlling it was a far better response. What kind of cop would he be if he responded emotionally to things?
But she wasn’t a cop, so those words were probably quite helpful for her and that was fine. Just fine. He didn’t need to give in to the desperate impulse to move away from her. To talk about something else—anything else.
Slowly he withdrew his arm from her shoulders, trying to act casual. Trying to feel casual.
“I’m sorry. That makes you uncomfortable.”
“What does?”
“Talking about dealing with emotions. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the bad boys of Last Stand aren’t exactly known for their soft, emotional sides.” She smiled sweetly, as if it would soften the blow.
But it wasn’t a blow. That was a compliment as far as he was concerned.
“Colt’s better now. Which just goes to show, you and Bracken need a good woman in your lives.”
“I don’t…” He didn’t know how to finish that. Need a woman seemed a little harsh, even if it was true. She’d only set about trying to find him one. He barely repressed a shudder at the thought.
“It’s so weird. I thought losing control would be the worst thing, sometimes that thought still creeps up on me, but…I feel lighter than I have in years. I know the worst thing isn’t the girls seeing their mother cry or Sadie making a dinner or two. The worst thing is losing people you shouldn’t have to, but we all do anyway.”
“So, that panic attack was some kind of godsend?” he asked incredulously. It was hard to believe Pen thought breaking down was good.
She thought about it. “I suppose.” She huffed out a soft laugh. “I don’t magically feel better. I just don’t feel so tightly wound. And I remember that from after Henry died. Some of the exercises the therapist gave me and the girls helped with that panic and anxiety. It’s strange to have some of those feelings again and not recognize them. But I know how to fight them now… I think. That makes me feel less…out of control. To apply some of the things I did after we lost Henry to these feelings about Mom.”
Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but he realized he didn’t need to. She was dealing with some big stuff, and it was the kind of big you had to unwind on your own. She just needed someone to be a shoulder to cry on every now and again.
It didn’t bother him any to take on that role.
She patted his leg.
Well, maybe it bothered him a little.
“You being here helps too. You’ve always been the steady one. I never had to worry about you.” She smiled up at him.
It was meant to be a compliment, and he knew he should take it as one. He wasn’t her burden to bear. Good deal.
But she wasn’t…the grand holder of worries in the Martin clan. She wasn’t… “You know everyone here worries about you.”
She blinked at him, her eyebrows drawing together. Not just as if she was rejecting what he said, but as if she didn’t understand it.
“No matter how much they’ve always thought you had it all together. Your father worried about you leaving home so young. Sadie and Mack worried about you trying to raise three kids on your own after Henry died. Colt and Bracken threatened Henry before he asked you to marry him.”
“The
y what?” she screeched.
“Henry never told you?”
“He told me they had a chat.” Pen frowned deeply. “He said it was friendly. About his intentions. He said he told them he was going to marry me and they congratulated him.”
Ethan couldn’t help a smile. “They said they’d hunt him to the ends of the earth if he ever hurt you.”
She made an offended sound, then narrowed her eyes at him. “And what did you do?”
Ethan looked down at his hands. He hadn’t wanted to get involved. Not with…that. “I didn’t approve of threats, so they went when I was at work.”
“Why does it feel like there are all these things no one ever told me?”
“Because there are always things people don’t tell each other. Everyone has their own…secrets is a harsh word. But you know, separate things.”
“I suppose you are full of separate things.”
“I suppose I am.” And he wasn’t ever going to share them with her.
“I don’t want anyone to worry about me,” she said resolutely, as if saying it would make it so. “I never wanted that. Not from any of them.”
“But the people who love you always will. That’s kind of part and parcel of the whole family and loved ones thing.”
She looked up at him. She studied him as if she could read his mind, and she was quiet and studying long enough he wanted to fidget.
He made a move to get up, but she took his hand in her good one. She held him there, still studying him. Still quiet.
He forgot about the cold night and the emotional upheaval, because it wasn’t often someone focused on him. He preferred to keep himself more in the background. He was there. He could be counted on and leaned on.
But not looked at and into.
Especially when she leaned closer, when her eyes seemed to decide something.
Her mouth moved toward his, and even though every inch of his chest ached to move forward—to lean in and accept—the rest of his body knew what that could cost. And he panicked.
He jumped up and she fell a little forward, just barely catching herself with her good arm. She glared up at him.
He couldn’t let her glare or talk or anything. He had to pretend this hadn’t happened. He lunged forward, almost tripping over his own stupid feet. He caught himself with the banister. He might have had room to be embarrassed if he wasn’t so absolutely sure he had to get away. Now. And pretend that had never happened.
“Ethan—”
“Night, Pen.” Maybe it was an embarrassing overreaction of an escape, but it was necessary. Vital.
Because if he’d let her kiss him, it would ruin everything.
Chapter Seven
Pen had not slept well, but she didn’t plan on discussing that with anyone. She got the girls up, though Addie grumbled about getting up and going on a Saturday.
“But it’s the Christmas parade and then Christkindlmarkt. You love Christkindlmarkt.”
“You love Christkindlmarkt. It’s just dumb crafts.”
Pen moved out of her daughter’s room, rolling her eyes. No, she actually didn’t love the Christkindlmarkt. Because it reminded her of Mom. Of magic Christmases where Pen didn’t have to supply the magic.
But it was tradition, and it was order. Addie might complain now. Okay, Addie might complain the whole time, but Brynn and Daisy would bounce and take immense joy in the parade. Then eat themselves silly at the various booths at the market.
They were why she did these things, and even a surly pre-teen wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.
When Pen made it downstairs, Sadie was already in the kitchen, having seen to the milking with Dad. Brynn and Daisy were at the table eating cereal and coloring.
By the time Pen browbeat Addie downstairs, they were running late. Pen snapped at least half a dozen times on the drive into town—at Dad for riling the girls up, at the girls for being riled up, at Sadie for not parking in the place they always parked in.
She was thoroughly disgusted with herself when they settled into a spot along the street—Dad veering off to talk to one of his friends, taking Addie with him. Brynn and Daisy bickered as they fought for space to sit on the curb. Pen bit her tongue to keep from scolding them and instead turned to Sadie.
“Were we that annoying?”
“I just bet.” Sadie smiled her bland, helpful smile that Pen had learned to hate back when Sadie had come to stay with her after they’d lost Henry. Of course, Pen had always kept that to herself, lest her sister think her anger or irritation was grief.
She frowned. Maybe this whole feeling awful thing wasn’t even all about Mom. Maybe it was just about…her.
Sadie touched her arm. “I can keep an eye on them if you need some time alone or—”
“Would you please stop treating me like I’m glass? I’m being a jerk. Treat me like I’m being a jerk.”
Sadie looked at her with so much pity Pen wanted to scream.
“You’ve got a broken arm and you’ve had an emotional upheaval. You can have some jerk. So long as it’s short-lived and not directed at your children. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
Which of course only served to make Pen feel worse. “I don’t want you to take it. You shouldn’t have to take it.”
Sadie grinned. “Oh, well then. Stop being a jerk.”
Pen laughed in spite of herself. Sadie had always been good about making her laugh. Pen hadn’t seen it when she’d been younger, but after Henry had died Pen had realized how much Sadie had done for them all without ever really making a deal of it. She held Dad and the farm together.
Pen had left. For Henry. Sadie had stayed and kept it all together.
So, maybe this feeling inside of her wasn’t grief. Maybe it was growing up—a second wave of maturity after the wave motherhood had given her. Maybe she was starting to see that her family and the people she loved were who they were regardless of her—her control, her help—and she had to see them as they were instead of how she wanted to twist their world to be.
“I hate Christmas,” Pen muttered as the girls jostled each other while waiting for the parade to start. Not because she missed Mom or because of the stress of being the source of magic, but because she always seemed to look inward during Christmas. Looking inward inspired change and change was hard.
Really hard.
“You don’t hate Christmas,” Sadie replied easily. “You hate the stress, and I’m sure it’s got more sadness for you than joy. I get that, but you don’t hate Christmas.”
Pen wasn’t so sure, but she appreciated Sadie’s attempt to soothe her. Sadie was moving onto her tiptoes, trying to see over the much taller heads around her. “I should have made Colt come and put me on his shoulders,” she muttered.
Pen smiled at the thought, at her little sister as this grown, wonderful woman. “Thank you.”
Sadie turned to frown at her. “Huh?”
“You’re a good sister. You grew up good. Without me.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Please. I’d have been lost without you. You know it.” Sadie wrapped her arm around Pen’s waist. Pen knew the demonstrative move did not come naturally to her sister, so it made the gesture that much more special.
“I’ll always need you,” Sadie said, eyes straight ahead.
“I need you too.” Which was not an easy admission, but easier with her sister’s arm around her. Easier when Pen knew Sadie was pushing out of her comfort zone to give her some reassurances she needed.
The parade was starting farther down the street. Pen wouldn’t be able to see anything yet, so she watched the girls, breathing through the aftermath of that admission to Sadie.
When she happened to look up, she locked gazes with Ethan across the street. He was in his uniform, and that gave her a bit of a jolt. Since he was a county deputy, he didn’t always work Last Stand events, though usually the larger Christmas ones. She should have known she’d see him, at the very least.
He waved as if t
hings were normal, then turned to talk to someone next to him.
Nothing was normal. Especially with him. And since she’d already made one admission, why not make another?
She kept her gaze on him. “I tried to kiss Ethan last night,” she said quietly to Sadie.
She supposed that was half of her snapping this morning. No matter how many times she worked through it, she couldn’t understand. She didn’t want to share it with Sadie, who knew and loved them both. But apparently Sadie was all she had.
“Tried?” Sadie screeched, then looked around as a few heads turned their way. “What does tried mean?” she demanded on a whisper.
“I leaned in. He jumped away.”
“Jumped?”
“Practically fell over himself to escape.” Pen couldn’t help but relive the moment. Over and over again. “I don’t understand. You and Colt are together, so it’s not like he’s worried about Dad. If he wasn’t interested, he would have let me down gently. So, I just don’t get the dramatic run away.”
“Did you ask him?”
“He ran away so fast he left smoke behind. Then he was already at work when I woke up this morning.”
Sadie gave her a really look. “Pen.”
“What?”
“Sure, he ran away, but since when don’t you follow and demand answers?”
“I… You don’t run after someone you try to kiss who rejects you.”
Sadie shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because…because! It’s embarrassing.”
“Yeah, but you gotta live with the guy, so embarrassing or not, it’s your life.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Sadie gave her a considering look. “Remember what you said to me when Colt and I were starting out. About not falling for him just because he was there and comfortable.”
Pen remembered all too clearly. She hadn’t exactly approved of Sadie and Colt starting something up. She wanted to believe it was because she’d been concerned about her sister’s well-being, but looking back she thought maybe she’d been more selfishly concerned about change.
“Ethan is comfortable. But it’s like you said about Colt. I don’t feel the same way about Ethan as I do the other two. It’s different. Besides, it was just a kiss.” She glanced at the girls leaning forward to see the parade and lowered her voice. “Or an attempt at a kiss. I didn’t go jump into bed with the guy, unlike some people.”