“Minnesota. Until I was twelve.”
“Why did you move?”
He leans against the island before answering. “I was playing a home game.My parents and brother were late, and I was getting pissed because we only lived twenty minutes from the rink.”
I frown. This isn’t going to be a happy story.
“They stopped to get gas and got carjacked. My dad and little brother were shot and killed. They took my mother with them. They raped and killed her before dumping her on the side of the road.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry.” I move to him, wrapping my hand around his arm.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but I bet it still feels like yesterday for you.”
He looks at me, his jaw tense, before he nods. “I was throwing a tantrum while they were dying. While my mom was?—”
I step into him and press my head to his chest. “You were a kid. Kids are little shits. We were all like that once.”
He sighs, bringing his arms around me. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“They ever catch who did it?”
“Yeah, Leroy Jones and Malcom Fargo. They were arrested a day later, but the cops fumbled the investigation, fucked up, and made it so none of the evidence was viable. Both guys walked away. I moved down here to live with my grandparents. My grandfather died not long after I became a cop. My grandmother died a few years later. She went to sleep one night and never woke up. It was fitting, after losing her daughter in the most violent of ways, to go out peacefully, but I know she’d have traded places with her in a heartbeat.”
“That’s how love is supposed to be. None of us would walk into hell for the fun of it. But to spare someone we loved, we wouldn’t blink. Or at least that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m glad she’s at peace now, and they’re all together again.”
“Me too. You ever loved someone like that, Poppy?”
I pull away and shake my head. “No. And sometimes, I think maybe it’s better that way.”
I expect him to disagree, but he nods, a faraway look in his eye.
“Maybe.”
Chapter Twenty-One
He was quiet after that, and when the food was done, I left him to his thoughts, sensing he needed space. I went to the barn and grabbed Willow so I could track down Riggs. When I reach him, I have to take a moment to appreciate how much he’s done. I like that about him. If he says he’ll do something, he does it. I never have to wait or read between the lines to see if it actually meant something else.
He slows down when he sees me. I mimic eating, hoping he’ll catch my drift. When he stops the tractor altogether, I figure he does. He climbs out and jumps down, heading over to me.
“Hey, cowboy. It’s looking good out here.”
“You’re telling me,” he says, his eyes moving over me and the way my dress has hiked up from riding.
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
I feel my cheeks heat up as I stroke my hand down Willow’s mane. “You need a lift?”
“You think she’ll let me?”
“If I’m with you, yeah. She trusts me.”
“Alright.”
I scootch forward, glad I decided to forgo the saddle for the short ride. Riggs climbs the fence we’re standing next to and uses it to swing his leg over Willow’s back. His hands slide around my waist, and his thighs cradle my ass as he gets situated.