Page 136 of Five Mountain Daddies

He frowns. “Maybe,” he says. “It was good to see youagain.”

“Yeah. You too.” I let him kiss me on the cheek again before he turns and leaves myapartment.

I watch him go for a second before closing the door. I’m such an idiot, such a stupid, stupididiot.

I shouldn’t be so pushy. I could have just been nice to him, thanked him, maybe convinced him to stay around a little longer. It’s Wyatt Reap, after all. He’s gorgeous, kind, smart, and the sort of person I should be spending timewith.

Except I can’t stop thinking about my brother’s murder, not even for a second. It eats me up inside, and if Wyatt can’t help me, then I have to moveon.

I lean up against the door and clench my hands into fists. I feel broken, like Atticus’s death took something from me. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t know if I can get it back, whatever it was. Part of me thinks that if I can find Atticus’s killer, then maybe that part will come back, or at least the gaping wound in my chest willheal.

And I hoped Wyatt would be the guy to magically rescue me. I guess life doesn’t always work thatway.

I shake my head, fighting back the tears that threaten to tear me apart every second of the day, ever since Atticus’s body wasfound.

4

Wyatt

Still in fucking MasonRiver.

I could be back in Chicago by now. I could be rolling up into the Salty Pine, that little bar around the corner from the precinct where me and the boys like to tie a few on and try to fuck whatever pretty little thing thinks she can handle a real cop. I’m usually the one they leave with, and I always have them coming back around begging for more. That’s when the boys can get a taste, because I don’t take themtwice.

But here I am, still in Mason. I sigh to myself as I park my rental outside of the Great American again. Around nine at night, the diner crowd thins out, replaced by the pub crowd. That’s how small Mason really is: their most popular bar is also their one bigdiner.

I can’t help but smile, though. Atticus and I used to spend a lot of time hanging around here. Actually, that’s how we firstmet.

I was just a kid back then. I was a scrawny kid when I first met Atticus. I was riding my bike along the road and I decided to stop in the Great American for a soda before heading home. I parked, went inside, got my soda, and when I came out there were three older kids standing around mybike.

I told them to back off, but they weren’t looking to rob me. They were looking to have a littlefun.

“You want me to back off?” the biggest of the group said, grinning his piggy grin. “I don’t think so, you little shrimp” He shoved me hard, and I slammed back against thewall.

The three boys all laughed, and I can feel tears in my eyes. I was so mad at myself for being a little baby, for being too afraid to fight back. That was the moment I decided I’d never back downagain.

But I didn’t have to fight, because that’s when Atticus showedup.

“Leave him alone,” Atticus said. “Jimmy, I know you’re too stupid to realize, but I know your daddy and he’d whoop your ass if he knew what you weredoing.”

The big, pig-faced one faltered. “You’d tattle on me, Atticus?” he asked,angrily.

“Hell yeah, I would,” Atticus said. “You three are picking on one kid like a bunch of cowards, so I might aswell.”

I thought the big guy, Jimmy apparently, was going to step up and slug Atticus right there. But instead, he just kicked over my bike and the three boys walked away, cursing andlaughing.

Atticus walked over to me. “Youokay?”

“Yeah,” I said, blinking away the tears. “I’mokay.”

He helped me up from against the wall, and we were friends eversince.

I was probably eight years old back then, maybe younger. I smile to myself and kill the engine before getting out of the car. Nothing’s changed in this town, nothing at all, and yet everything is rotten to thecore.

I walk into the Great American. Seeing it again at night, I’m reminded of how seedy the place’s gotten. I wonder if Cora ever comes here, but I doubt it. She doesn’t seem the type to come drinking at this shithole, and I don’t blameher.

It’s packed with local idiots. The kind of guys that barely got through school, since school is for morons and pussies. It’s full of broken dreams and depression, guys drinking too much, hitting on women that long since stopped caring about that kind ofthing.

I spot Mitch sitting at the end of the bar, sipping a beer. I catch his eye and he nods to me, waving meover.

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