Long Lost Winter, page 6
He marched to the back door, flung himself inside the car. “Drop me off at my car.”
“Well, gee, Cal, last time I checked I wasn’t your chauffeur to be ordered around. A please wouldn’t go astray.”
He could feel her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Then what exactly are you, Sam? Nancy Drew? Sticking her fucking nose where it doesn’t belong?”
Nate turned around in his seat. His gaze was hard. “If you got in here to take your shitty attitude out on us instead of Landon and Aly, why don’t you walk to your fucking car?”
“Yeah, why don’t I?” He shoved right back out.
Into the inky darkness. Into the frozen fucking winter. Away from everything swirling inside of him—some tsunami of grief and fear that was coming out of him one way or another.
But he walked through the night and the frigid icy wind for about thirty seconds before he heard footsteps behind him.
“Get back in the fucking car,” Nate growled.
Cal didn’t bother to say no. But when Nate grabbed him by the arm, he rounded on him. He’d held it in against Landon, but there was no holding back now.
Nate dodged the swing with ease, which somehow had the fury spiking even higher.
“Going to take a lot more than that to land one on me, asshole,” Nate said.
All calm and detached like the fucking soldier he was.
“Fight back. We’ll see.”
Nate didn’t take a swing, but Cal could see his hands clench into his fists at his sides. Cal wanted it. Sure, the gunshot wound still hurt, but he wouldn’t mind a new ache. Maybe Nate could break his nose. Knock out a tooth.
God knew his baby brother could. There was a leashed violence in the man in front of him, and Cal felt the pounding, desperate need to make it explode. So, he stepped forward, his own fists clenched and raised. Maybe he could break his hand on Nate’s hard jaw.
“Cal. Nate. Enough.” Sam’s command was sharp. Disapproving.
An old memory of his mother chastising them for fighting wanted to resurface. He wouldn’t let it.
“You’re making a goddamn scene,” she said, completely disgusted.
A scene. Cal glanced around them. The lot was mostly dark, small circles of light from the parking lights illuminating a person here, a couple there.
Watching.
Cal dropped his hands, embarrassment washing in all the places anger leaked out of. He might have ridden that anger, but something about Sam, this outsider, watching it, admonishing him for it. Something about making a scene people would talk about…
Something about memories of his mother flirting at the edges of his consciousness just made him feel like a tool.
“Get in the car. Now,” Sam ordered. “Both of you.”
“You can drop—”
“I’m not dropping you off at your fucking car, Cal. I’m driving you to the ranch. And if you say another damn word, I’ll have your car towed so it takes even longer to get it.”
He wanted to fight, to argue, but he could hear the murmur of voices. He heard a young woman ask whoever she was standing next to if she should call the police.
Yeah, he was making a scene, and for fucking what?
So, he got back into the car and rode in complete and utter silence back home.
Home. What a joke.
Chapter Eight
The Bennet Ranch
Nate had not managed to fully get rid of the fury that pumped through him. He could excuse Cal with a million things, but it didn’t take away how much he wanted to punch some sense into his brother right now.
But he sat in the passenger seat of Sam’s cramped car, staring at headlights cutting through the dark, while he breathed.
He could feel Sam’s gaze occasionally land on him, but he didn’t look her way. Maybe they’d have to talk about that, but not yet.
First, they had to get through this dinner. Three disparate parts and the unit that was Landon and Aly.
In a way, Nate was glad Cal had chosen him as the target. He understood. The need to lash out. The way violence could blot out grief and trauma. Or at least felt like it could momentarily.
Nate didn’t think Landon had that in him. Like it had skipped right over the middle brother.
Or maybe, because he’d been the favored golden child, he just wasn’t as warped. Maybe because he had Aly and a future, things didn’t fit inside of him in violent, jagged pieces.
Which wasn’t a fair thought, and it was one Dad would have planted in Nate’s head, watered and fed until all the bitterness in Nate’s life was Landon’s fault.
Nate wouldn’t let that work on him now.
Sam pulled to a stop in front of the ranch house. Aly and Landon had beat them up here thanks to Nate and Cal’s almost fight. Lights shone from inside, but the ranch was otherwise cloaked in a heavy darkness.
For a minute, they all just sat there. Like they all knew they didn’t belong in that warmth.
Sam was the first to break the spell. “Let’s go eat some fucking lasagna,” she muttered, pushing out of the car, cold air sweeping in.
So Nate forced himself out as well. He didn’t look back to see if Cal followed, but he heard the echo of another door slam. Then felt Cal’s presence move up next to him as they crossed the yard toward the door. “You don’t … have to tell them,” Cal said in a low, quiet voice that likely wouldn’t carry to Sam.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” And he hadn’t been.
What had happened in that parking lot was … not really a problem. It was a symptom. And Nate could be pissed off that Cal wanted to take it out on people who didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t change the fact Cal was hurting.
He was a fucking mess. And beating the hell out of each other wasn’t going to fix that. So no, Nate didn’t plan on sharing that with Landon or Aly, and hopefully none of the witnesses in the parking lot would gossip in the same circles Aly and Landon existed in.
But there were things he did have to tell Landon and Aly. And Cal. And something about Cal’s meltdown crystalized that fact and how he couldn’t afford to procrastinate.
Everything was shit anyway. Why not introduce Bo Lake? Better than telling them he and Cal had almost gotten into the stupidest fistfight of all time.
But something had to be said, to put a finality to that moment. So it didn’t crop up again. Nate stopped moving, held Cal back with him as Sam moved forward not noticing.
“No one’s expecting you to be happy, Cal. Or even your usual irreverent self. We’re worried.”
“And why am I the recipient of all this worry and none of you all are?”
The demand didn’t crackle with violence like it had back at the courthouse. Nate looked at his brother, just a shadow in all this dark. Since he’d been back, he’d used his directness honed in the army to make his brothers uncomfortable. Being direct wasn’t the Bennet way, and so Nate relished in it a bit sometimes.
So he chose that route. Because the Bennet way was over. “We didn’t see it.”
“He beat the hell out of you,” Cal grumbled, like Dad beating him after Mom’s funeral was comparable to Cal seeing why there’d been a funeral.
“Yeah. Fucked me up good—physically. But I didn’t forget it. It drove me. For good or for ill. Yours fucked up your head. It’s different, and that’s why we worry.”
Cal didn’t say anything.
“Maybe Landon doesn’t understand, but I do. I’ve seen people die, Cal. Some at my own hand. And I’ve spent some time wondering if I didn’t do that because something of Dad lurks there inside of me.”
“I mean, sure, being a homeless teen in need of a place to land so you had to join the army didn’t have anything to do with it.”
It eased something. The slack they could give each other not long after being ready to bruise each other. The slack they could offer each other that they both struggled to offer themselves.
“We’re getting better at giving each other breaks, but I think this trial is going to require all of us to give ourselves some.”
“Are you guys coming?” Sam demanded, standing on the porch, rubbing her hands together. She could have gone inside on her own, but Nate didn’t point that out.
He was giving everyone some slack.
*
Sam considered having to be wrapped up in the Bennet family life as some sort of cosmic payment for hounding them for fifteen years. Even if she’d been right about Benjamin Bennet, and her dad’s own innocence at the time, she’d been insufferable.
Rightfully so, she liked to think, but it didn’t change the insufferableness.
So, here she was, sitting around the Bennet dining room table, the smell of lasagna wafting through the air, and the heavy weight of trauma on everyone’s shoulders.
She noted that at this dinner there was an express lack of alcohol. She figured that was for Cal’s benefit, since him saying he needed a drink after the trial let out seemed to have started that whole … thing.
Sam didn’t have siblings. She’d heard plenty of people talking about good-natured fighting with their siblings. She knew that could even include fists, and God knew the Bennet brothers had their fair share of not good-natured.
But watching Cal and Nate square off had turned her blood cold. So much anger, caused by so much hurt. Like a never-ending well of it that nothing could solve or salvage.
It made her unaccountably sad in the moment, but now they were all sitting around like nothing had happened.
Well, scratch that. Cal was decidedly … quiet and subdued. Which was not like him at all. Nate was all military stoicism, and that was like him, but she didn’t think she’d seen that depth of blankness on him since before this summer.
The way Aly was fluttering about, getting everything settled on the table led Sam to believe she saw it or felt it, but maybe didn’t understand it. Though Aly had been around Cal her whole life, Sam would think she’d understand.
But maybe this whole … thing made everything ten times harder to understand, even if you knew someone well.
And Sam didn’t know anyone at this table that well. Something she’d probably do good to remind herself of next time she stepped in between two aching Bennet brothers. Maybe the fight would have done them both some good. Maybe she’d only thwarted the inevitable.
“Sam and I are taking on a case I want to tell you all about,” Nate announced, seemingly out of nowhere, once Aly had sat down and everyone had filled their plates.
Sam’s gaze flew to Nate. He was looking straight at her. So she didn’t have a choice but to hold his gaze while Nate explained Bo’s story.
“It’s not a guarantee it connects to us, but I think it might. He looks too much like us for it not to,” he said once he’d gone through it all. “I want you all to be aware that … this is happening.”
When Sam surveyed the table, everyone was staring mutely at Nate, like he’d spoken in a foreign language.
So Sam figured a little investigator talk—detached, facts—might rile them up enough to respond.
“The first step will be getting the results of his DNA test.” She took a bite of lasagna. Damn, Aly was a good cook. “He said he sent it in a month ago, so results should be coming in soon. I’m going to talk to the police, but it might be best to rely on these online services. It allows a wide net of matches, and I know a few genetic genealogists who could make connections if it’s not totally obvious. We’d work faster than the police anyway.”
“What’s the thing you’re worried about here? That he’s related to us?” Landon asked, clearly confused.
“Closely related,” Nate confirmed, not even trying to soften it.
Sam had to fight not to wince.
“So? I’m sure there’s some long-lost Bennets along the way. What’s the big deal if he is related to us?” Cal asked, poking at the lasagna on his plate. Sam didn’t think he’d taken one bite.
“Worst-case scenario?” Nate replied. “We know Dad’s not exactly a paragon of virtue. What if he’s got more kids out there? More dead wives or lovers, at his own hand? What if we’re only the beginning?”
Cal put his fork down. Aly reached for Landon’s hand. Then slowly, all eyes turned from Nate to Sam.
“Do you really think that’s a possibility?” Aly asked, horrified.
Sam wouldn’t fidget, though she wanted to. She had to approach this like an investigator, because that was what she was. Maybe they were kind of folding her into the friend group, but it all tied back to investigating, didn’t it? And right now, they needed her to be a … disconnected voice.
So that was what she aimed for. “I think there’s an endless amount of possibilities, and it’s no use going through all the worst ones until we figure out if he is related to you all, and if so, how. And even if he does relate, it doesn’t have to be sinister.”
“Everything Dad touches is fucking sinister,” Cal muttered.
He pushed back from the table.
“Cal, you didn’t eat,” Aly protested. “You can’t just…”
But he didn’t stop. He stormed out of the room. Aly looked helplessly at Landon, who held her hand on the table. They seemed to have a whole conversation through gazes alone. The conclusion seemed to be not to go after him. And finish their dinner.
Sam stopped tasting it, but because she felt badly for Aly, she made sure she cleaned her plate before she stood.
“I better head out. Thanks for dinner, Aly. I appreciate it.”
She smiled thinly. “You’re always welcome, Sam.” She didn’t get up.
She just sat there, clutching Landon’s hand. Nate didn’t say anything, but he got to his feet and walked with Sam to the door. But once there, he hesitated, not reaching for his coat.
“I think … I think I better crash here tonight.”
Sam nodded. “I think that’s smart.”
“If you get a chance to tell Bo we’ll take his case, go ahead. It’s best if we handle it. It’ll be hard around the trial, but it’ll be best.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Night, Sam.”
“Night.” She turned and walked away.
No lingering gazes tonight. He had a family to take care of, and she was glad he was doing it. Moving forward with Bo. Hanging around to hopefully defuse any issues with Cal.
But when she got back to Honor’s Edge, and noted the back door was ajar, she wished she’d made some other choices.
Chapter Nine
The Bennet Ranch
Cal woke up to an alarm he considered ignoring. Because if he got up, he’d have to go to the virtual therapy appointment on his calendar.
Funny timing, that. He wanted to skip it, but considering the way he’d fucked everything up yesterday, he supposed that was sign enough. Maybe he didn’t think therapy was helping any, but he also knew…
Sometimes it was a bit of a lifeline from falling into some pretty terrifying thoughts. He definitely needed a lifeline at the moment. He would have even if Nate hadn’t dropped a bomb they had some John Doe look-alike wandering around.
Add that? Yeah, he couldn’t skip it.
He got dressed and got his laptop set up to have the video call. When Dr. Michaels came on the screen, she smiled pleasantly. Cal tried to smile back. Failed.
She was a straightforward woman. She didn’t get emotional. He’d expected her to in the beginning, before he’d really known anything about therapy.
She started the session by asking him to recount the last week, particularly his emotions around the trial. He went through it all, and didn’t leave anything out. Sometimes in these sessions he didn’t fully divulge, but he figured if he wanted to not feel this badly right now, he probably needed to be fully honest.
He told her about Landon’s comment about the drinking, about the almost fight with Nate. About the fact they made sure there was no alcohol at dinner—and since they hadn’t picked up his car, he’d essentially been stuck there. Like a prisoner.
“Is there a history of alcoholism in your family?” Dr. Michaels asked casually, writing something down on her little notepad.
She didn’t get riled up, tell him not to create enemies where none existed. But something about her calm question made that clear all the same.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged jerkily, feeling like a child. “Maybe, I guess. Nothing diagnosed or whatever.”
“I’d consider that the next time you feel like using alcohol as a crutch. There is such a thing as genetic predetermination when it comes to addiction.”
“I’m not addicted.”
“I didn’t say you were,” she replied evenly. “I said it’s something to consider next time you find yourself engaging in self-destructive behavior you feel is … dulling the pain.”
“I guess I should just start fights and piss my family off instead?”
She didn’t sigh or frown like anyone in his family would have, she sat there on his screen looking placid and pleasant. Her patience was truly a marvel.
She deserved every cent he paid her.
“Cal, I want you to consider that hurting the people around you is a defense mechanism, not some fault or personality defect. Not who you are. It’s something you’ve learned to do to handle emotional upheaval. And if you start recognizing that, you can start healing that part of yourself.”
“By doing what?”
“Well, the first step would be to specifically and genuinely apologize to the people you hurt yesterday. The second step would be to start recognizing the feeling before you lash out. Feel the feeling. Accept the feeling. Not try to fight it.”
He couldn’t stop the sneer on his face. “Bennets aren’t big on apologies.”
“You’re not bound by some last name code, Cal. You get to decide what you’re big on. I’d like to see you big on healing. Forgiving. And asking for forgiveness. And I think your homework for this week is to work on … unburdening yourself.”
