Bethany

She’d been seated at the table in the window of the coffee shop for an hour, waiting. When she reached out to pick up the oversized mug, Bethy studied her fingers impassively, watching the tremble caused by too much caffeine. If she’s not coming, she would have texted. To prove to herself that the girls’ lunch they’d planned was still on, she picked up her phone and unlocked it, going to the last message from Dot. Nope, still just the See you there that was a definite meeting notice.

Tipping the cup, Bethy lifted it to her mouth, draining the contents. The next time the waitress came by she shook her head, declining a refill for the moment. Come on, Dot.

The door opened and she looked up, smiling when she recognized Ty’s mother. Rising to her feet, she opened her arms for a hug, sighing with relief when a moment later she was wrapped in warmth and the soft scent of Dot’s favorite perfume. “How you doin’, Miss Bethy?” The whisper in her ear was light, airy, and Bethy returned the soft greeting.

“I’m well, Dot. How are you doing?”

While she’d been in west Texas, Ty had another turn. Without her there to look out for him, it had gotten bad before help was called. Dot had walked in on her son casually playing a version of Russian Roulette, and the bullet hole Bethy had patched in the apartment wall testified to how close things had been.

“Oh, you know me. I’m fine, honey. Just fine.”

Bethy narrowed her eyes, assessing, and then called Dot on her lie. “No, you aren’t. Have you heard from Sarge?” They pulled apart, and Bethy flicked a finger at the girl behind the counter, getting a nod in response. Dot was looking down, avoiding Bethy’s eyes as they seated themselves. “Dot, have you gotten an update from Sarge?”

“Tyrell is doin’ fine.” Dot was still looking anywhere but at Bethy. She murmured her thanks when the girl placed a cup of coffee in front of her, studiously adding three packets of sugar to the drink. “He was hurtin’, no denyin’ that. But he’s going to be fine.” Dot’s eyes darted up, then down. “What did Sarge tell you?”

“Just that Ty was back in treatment at his place, and I had a mess to clean up when I got home.” She had, too, Sarge hadn’t lied about that. There had been at least two weeks’ worth of takeout trash and spoiled food to dispose of, followed by a couple of hours of dishwashing and tidying. “He’s always terse with me, so I hoped you had a better update.”

“Tyrell was bad, Bethany.” Dot’s gaze lifted, focusing in on Bethy’s face. “Real bad, honey.” Tipping her head to one side, Dot asked, “Anything you want to tell me?” On guard now, Bethy shook her head. “You sure, honey? What happened in Lamesa?”

“What do you mean?” She shrugged. “We had a concert. Then I stayed over a few days to sort out details.”

“Ty said he got a call from a man asking him to come out and help guard you.” Bethy froze. “When he asked the guy what was going on, the man told him that you were in danger. Put my Tyrell into a tailspin, knowing his best friend was in a situation like that and hundreds of miles away.”

“Oh, no.” Bethy blinked fast, clearing the stinging wetness from her eyes. “No.”

“Yes, Bethany.” Seeming to change directions in the conversation, Dot waited until Bethy had herself under control to ask her next question. “Who is Michael?”

The bottom of Bethy’s coffee mug clattered against the tabletop as she tried to set it down without spilling. Dot’s warm hand settled over hers, fingers curling tightly, holding on as Bethy folded in half, bending far over her knees and breathing deeply. “Honey.” Dot’s soothing voice settled on her like a blanket. “Baby girl, what’s happening? What happened in Texas? Who is Michael?”

With holes punched through her words by sobs, Bethy told her. Ty was the only one who’d known, the only one she’d ever spoken to about Michael. There were the Marshalls of course, but they weren’t her family. Ty and his mother were closer to her than anyone other than Mason, and Bethy would never be able to tell him about Michael. So she told Dot the story, how she’d been pregnant when dropped on Ty’s doorstep, how he’d helped her every step of the way, been there for her and for Michael.

And Dot returned the favor, telling her how Ty had sobbed, explaining to his mother that it was only Bethy and Michael who had kept him from taking that final step. Dot reached into her large handbag, pulling out the album Bethy and Ty maintained, something she hadn’t even missed when cleaning the apartment. He’d been holding it in his lap the night Dot found him, cradling it to his chest like a child.

“So you already knew who Michael was?” Bethy tried to keep her chin from quivering, feeling somewhat betrayed.

“Yeah, honey. I knew. But he’s yours, and you deserved to be the one to tell me.” Dot shook her head, a small, sad smile ghosting on and off her lips. “And I deserved to hear it from you.”

Shame and pain swept over Bethy, and she twisted her neck, trying to bury her head against her shoulder to hide her tears. A moment later and strong arms circled around her, pulling her close to Dot’s chest. “Hush, now, honey. No more secrets between friends. Life’s better when lived in the light.”

“Oh, Dot,” Bethy cried, turning to return the hug, resting her wet cheek in the curve of Dot’s shoulder. “This is how I’ve lived my whole life, hiding my secrets in the dark. I don’t know how to be in the light anymore.”

“Sure you do, Bethany. You are the light, most days. Just gotta pull the curtain back a little bit, show it to the world.” Dot paused and her arms tightened. “I’m surprised as anything, Mason and Mikey letting you give that little fella up.”

“Not so little anymore. Michael’s sixteen. He gets his driver’s license in another week.” Bethy licked her lips, trying to take in a breath that didn’t hitch or break, and failing. “He’s sixteen, Dot.”

“Just a baby, still.” Dot’s words were firm. “Still, doesn’t answer my other question about your brother. He’s got a boy the same age, right? What does Michael think about his cousin?”

Shoulders shaking, Bethany admitted, “Mason never…he doesn’t know. Neither does Mikey. I had asked so much from both of them, I couldn’t…Ty’s…he’s the only one who knows. Michael…his adoptive family is so good to him, I never wanted him to know where I came from. He doesn’t know I have a brother, much less a cousin.”

“Oh, Bethany.” Dot’s voice was soft with sympathy. “Just a babe yourself, taking so much on your shoulders. My Tyrell loves you like the little sister I never gave him. That boy’d do anything for you. Even keep a secret like this.” Her arms squeezed and Bethy’s convulsed in response. “So, tell me what your next steps are?”

Bethy pulled in a shuddering breath, glad her tears had stayed relatively silent instead of the braying cried that had tried to escape. “Call Sarge, see if I can go see Ty. I need to see for myself that he’s okay. Then,” she leaned back slightly, looking up at Dot through her clumped lashes, “I’ll have a chat with Michael.”

“And then you talk to Mason, and Mikey.” Dot shook her head. “Juanita’s going to be fit to be tied, you keeping her from being able to shower your child with presents.”

Bethy smiled, lips still trembling. “Then Mason and the rest.”

***

Bethy waited, ringing phone held to her ear, eyes closed against the afternoon sunshine. Still slightly swollen from her afternoon crying jag, they burned every time she opened them. A final ring and then voice mail picked up, Sarge’s voice brusque and gruff as it demanded, “Leave a message.”

“Sarge, it’s Bethany.” She’d stick with the name he most often called her, hoping he would pair her voice and name, and come up with the right person. “I’m coming up to see Ty. I’ll be there this evening. Call me and let me know if there’s a time that’s best. Otherwise, I’ll aim at around seven.” She disconnected abruptly, without a farewell. By not asking permission, she’d hopefully taken away Sarge’s ability to deny her access to Ty. It wasn’t something she’d ever demanded before, but she knew where the facility was, having picked Ty up more than once.

As she’d predicted, right at seven she wheeled her car up the long, sweeping drive that wound between trees. She parked next to a muddy SUV with a comical spare wheel cover that read, “If you can read this, call help” in upside-down lettering.

As she was unfolding from the car, stretching after the two-hour drive, the front door of the cabin opened and Sarge walked out to stand at the top of the steps, staring down at her. “Hi.” She waved, slamming the door and stepping to the side. “I’m here to see Ty.”

“So I gathered.” He didn’t move, and where he stood with arms folded across his chest, she would have to push past him to gain access to the porch, much less the building. “He’s not in a good place, Bethany.”

“I know.” She decided to offer him a little more information, hoping he would understand it didn’t matter what condition Ty was in mentally, she would always be his friend. “I spent some time with Dot, so I know how things were when you came and got him. I wasn’t there.” She swallowed, trying to shove down the guilt that followed that statement. “I’ve always been there, and I wasn’t. Please.” She swallowed again, holding her eyes unblinking, trying to force away the sudden tears by willpower alone. “I need to see Ty.”

“He ever talk about being here?” Now she blinked, because that wasn’t what she expected him to ask. She shook her head, and then nodded, because Ty had, once.

“Only one time. He said your methods of helping your men”—they were all Sarge’s men, whether they’d served together or not, once he took them in they became his—“were unorthodox, but he also said it helped him and some others so much more than they’d ever gotten from the government. I don’t care what’s going on, what you’ve got cooked up in there, as long as it keeps making Ty better.”

Sarge’s eyes had narrowed as she spoke, his lips flattening in reaction, but she didn’t know him well enough to read that expression. It could be anger at Ty for talking at all, or satisfaction that she was placing her trust in him.

They continued to stand like that, in opposition both figuratively and literally. Bethy refused to allow her gaze to drop, so she stared at Sarge and she waited. His lips flattened even more and he sighed. “Okay.” She smiled and reached for the handrail, putting her foot on the first step. “Wait.” She froze, because when Sarge said anything in that tone, it paid to listen. “I have more men here than just Tyrell. I won’t compromise the privacy of my other men by allowing you inside.” Tipping her head towards one shoulder, Bethy waited in silence as he sighed again. “I’ll talk to him and bring him outside.” He took a step back and pointed towards a sagging upholstered armchair wedged into the corner. “Wait here.” She nodded and sat. Pulling out her phone, she brought up a word guess game she’d been trying to beat. Wordlessly he stalked past her and inside.

Her phone’s battery was at 50 percent when the door opened again and a sleepy-looking Ty stumbled out, Sarge’s hand clamped on his bicep. She jumped to her feet, then felt the smile on her face crack, sliding away as she looked at Ty. His lids were drooping over badly bloodshot eyes, and that paired with his faltering gait told her he’d been smoking a great deal of pot. The grin he gave her was pure Ty though, and his arms opened in an invitation she would never ignore. Even as he folded her against him, arms curling tight around her, Sarge was maneuvering him to sit in the chair she’d abandoned. Ty pulled her down with him and she didn’t argue, just crawled up into his lap and rested against his broad chest.

He held her for a moment and then let out a sigh that seemed to begin at his toes and work its way up his body, muscles relaxing in a wave. “You always feel like home, Bethy.” She smiled, her face hidden in his shirt. The interlude lasted a few seconds more then he tensed and she knew what would be coming next.

Shaking her head, she leaned back and squinted at him. “Don’t.” The sober expression on his face didn’t change. “Just don’t, Ty. None of this is your fault.”

“I shoulda called Sarge earlier.” Bethy felt her brows draw down into a scowl, but he just looked at her. “I shoulda. I knew it, and thought to myself, ‘Oh, hell. I can do this.’ But I was wrong, Bethy. I’m always going to need someone to help me see when things start to fall back on themselves.”

“And I’ll be there.” Ty shook his head as he tightened his arms, one big hand traveling up to cradle her head, pulling her against his chest. She didn’t fight him, letting him hold her as he needed even as she argued her point. “Every time it’s a little better.” He didn’t say anything, just shifted so he was more comfortable and stayed seated, her in his lap. “I’ll be there, Ty.”

The shadows of the trees around the cabin had lengthened, working their way up the outer walls and shrouding much of the clearing in dim twilight when Sarge spoke. Ty had gone to sleep long ago, his arms still wrapped around her even as he slumbered. “He’ll do better in one of my homes.” Bethy tilted her head, cutting her eyes so she could see his shape as he leaned against the post. “I have staff there all the time, and he’ll be around the other guys he knows. Being on his own is something he’ll have to work back up to, Bethany.”

She knew it was best. It was something Sarge had talked to Ty about in the past, and Ty had always turned down the offer and come home, telling her he didn’t want to move. Maybe staying in that apartment was holding him back. She could keep the place, she made plenty of money with the studio, so that wasn’t a consideration. I’ve never had to be alone. Other than the scant times Ty had spent up here at the cabin, she’d never lived alone. She’d gone from her father’s house to her husband’s at fourteen, then to Ty’s at sixteen, and lived there since. The prospect was terrifying, but for Ty…I’ll do anything.

“It’s not your fault, Bethany, any more than it’s his.” With one sentence, Sarge had hit on the emotion that kept swirling around her. She’d spent nearly the entire drive up here muttering various renditions of, “If I’d only been there.” Logically, Bethy knew she couldn’t take the blame, because her extended stay in Lamesa hadn’t been in her plans. Still. “He’s managing better than before. Take strength from that.”

The soft tone in his voice hit her like a stick crashing down on the overstretched head of a drum, breaking and shredding the faltering control she had. Bethy didn’t lift a hand to wipe the tears, trying to keep them silent as things from the past week battered at her. Threats, actual threats against her family, real enough to warrant frighteningly tight security; Fury, there and gone again, leaving her with a series of texts that stripped their encounter of anything important; Mason, always the puppeteer, pulling her strings yet again; Ty, needing her and not finding her, so far gone in his head that his mother’s voice trembled when she spoke of how she’d found him. Too much. Her shoulders shook and she heard a choked noise, realizing it came from her throat. It’s just all too much.

Rough fingers touched her chin, hooking under the edge of her jaw and lifting. Before she could take a breath, his mouth was covering hers, the brush of lips light and gentle, delicately working across to the corner of her mouth. “Hey.” Sarge pulled back and she opened her eyes, staring at him. He looked confused, as bewildered by his behavior as she was. “I’m sor—I didn’t mean to intrude, Bethany. I just.” The pad of his thumb glided in front of her ear, and down the side of her throat. “I don’t like it when women cry.”

She snorted a laugh at the idea and then reached up to wipe her tears finally, chasing the feeling of tightness across her cheeks. “So, you kiss them?”

A haze of red began to creep up the curve of his ears, matching color blooming on his cheeks and neck. “Not generally, no.”

“I’m the lucky winner of the lottery, then?” She shifted and froze, her ass cheeks sliding across his very evident erection. “I just...had a shit week, Sarge. No application of kisses necessary. That’s part of the problem, anyway.” She decided to ignore his physical reaction and pushed on his chest, intending to move to sit beside him, but his arm tightened around her waist, holding her in place. Ty let out a groan, and she glanced over at him, catching sight of his face, slack-jawed and about to…a loud snore broke the quiet and she laughed quietly.

“What happened in Texas?” Sarge pulled her attention back to him, and she studied his face for a moment before deciding to continue the path of truth she’d begun with him so many months ago.

“My brother’s in a MC. You know what that is?” He nodded. “Well, he had one of his men acting as my ‘security’ while I was in Lamesa.” Bethy rolled her eyes as she gave the word the air quotes it deserved. “I fucked up and slept with him.”

“Bad deal, mixing business and pleasure like that.”

“No, shit. I knew better, but there was just…Fury, that’s the guy’s name, he seemed familiar somehow. Safe. And I thought it was…” She sighed. “More. But it wasn’t.”

“Fury? He military? Ex-mil?”

She angled her head to better see his face. Sarge had something more than polite curiosity on his features, but she couldn’t tell what it was. She nodded. “He said army.”

“Huh.” After a nearly silent grunt, Sarge tipped his head to look at Ty, then back to Bethy. “Ty know this guy?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“Redheaded dude?” Bethy stared at him a moment before nodding. “Talk like Watcher does? Backhills country?” She shook her head. “No surprise, Ledbetter always a good conman. Could bend himself into anyone, putting on a mask for whatever was needed. I knew him, and knew of him. He ran with some shady folks overseas, heard he carried it back home with him. Spent a nickle in Riverbend. Figured he’d clean up after that.”

The world swam, loud buzzing in her ears finally resolving to Sarge’s voice asking, “Bethany, you okay?”

Hesitantly, she opened her mouth, afraid for a moment that the things she’d put together in her head would fall apart once spoken aloud. “Gabe Ledbetter?” Derek’s face flashed in front of her eyes, not the slick-talking man who’d shared her bed, playing her body exactly as well as Fury had, but the last time she’d seen him, through the glass in prison at Riverbend, dark red halo around his head where his hair was growing to cover his skull. Barely older than she was at the time, the Gabe who left the mountain to make his way in the world been a half-grown gangly kid. Clean-shaven, but his hair had been a deep russet, like the heavy cones that fell from the pine trees. Fury’s hair was lighter, brighter, and his beard so much fuller and longer than Derek’s scruff. How could I have missed it? “Gabriel Ledbetter is Fury?” she asked for clarification because Sarge was staring at her. Tabby’s brother, for all intents and purposes. Watcher’s cousin.

She watched as Sarge’s chin dipped and lifted, the single motion of his head setting her anger in motion.