“No. My mother is in an assisted living facility in Indiana.”

“When did she move to Indiana?” I was trying to wrap my head around the notion that Carl and Cole’s mother had been around, and I didn’t realize it. We lived in a small community, and I owned a hair salon. Word traveled, and I usually kept pretty good tabs on people, whether I meant to or not.

He shook his head. “She’s lived there her whole life.”

“Oh–” I frowned, not understanding. “Well, why the hell did you buy her a house in another state then?”

“When her health began to decline and her husband passed away, I bought the house and told her to come live here.” He sucked his teeth. “She chose to stay with strangers instead.”

“Well, maybe you should have checked with her before you signed the papers. Some people value their independence and privacy. Perhaps she is one of them.”

“No.” He quickly shot down, with a huff. “She said she didn’t do right by taking care of us when we were little, and it tore her up with guilt to consider letting me take care of her now.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d never talked about his childhood with me. Things had been intense between us in our youth, but it had been a whirlwind affair and then he was drafted to the war.

“I told her that guilt ain’t for her to carry. It was her husband that did us wrong, she was just a woman.” He shook his head, and then laughed in that way that folks did when they felt awkward. “Shit, I guess I should have thanked him. His meanness prepared me for what happened later.”

I didn’t mean to, but I reached over and put my hand on his. I hated what he’d done to me. I hated what we had become…

But nobody deserves to be a prisoner of war, and the notion that he somehow believed mistreatment in his youth was ablessing of preparation for it, broke my fucking heart all over again for him.

“Take the next exit.” Carl pointed to the sign ahead, and this time, I didn’t argue.

I pulled onto the highway and pointed the vehicle toward T-Town. After a few turns, we were mostly surrounded by fields and forests. It wasn’t far into the country, but it was secluded, and just as Carl promised, there was a cabin with a small lake behind it when we arrived.

The yard was clean, and the grass was mowed. It didn’t look vacant or club worthy.

“Come on in,” Carl suggested, sliding his seatbelt off.

I collected Blaze from the backseat, but he had no intention of going inside the cabin. The boy darted off toward the lake leaving me to stammer in his wake.

“B-Blaze,” I called.

“Let him go. It ain’t but waist high and the nearest neighbor is a mile that way.” He jerked a thumb toward the direction we’d come from.

I stood there processing what he’d said. Carl studied my face, and then barked over his shoulder, “If you stir the water, the fish won't bite later. We’ll be without supper.”

“We’re gonna go fishing?” Blaze squealed, and immediately turned to race back to Carl’s side.

“You bet. Soon as we get your Aunt Daisy situated inside.” Carl smoothed the boy’s hair and looked at the back of the car. “You want me to take anything inside for ya?”

I glanced at the cabin, not wanting to commit until I had seen the inside of it.

“Just the big duffle.” I nodded.

He gathered it from the backseat and led the way inside. The place smelled nice and looked clean. The sofa was in goodrepair and there was a case of bottled water sitting next to the refrigerator.

“Nobody has used the place since Janice left Mark. We had hoped she would come back to him, so I let her, and the kids stay here a few days ‘til they figured things out.” Carl rubbed the back of his neck. “Lot of good that did. I tried to be a good friend, and in the end, I got myself violated for it.”

“Viol–” I started to repeat. “Are you saying Mark had you…”

I realized Blaze was staring at me and let the wordbeatendrop from my sentence. “...for letting his wife and kids stay here?”

“She’d left him…” Carl pointed out.

“And you inserted yourself into that?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Chef asked me to let her stay. Like I said, we thought we could convince her not to leave him. All I did was provide lodging. It kept her from heading to some victim’s shelter and starting a paper trail over the mess they called a marriage. You’d think the man would have thanked me.”