Page 25 of Montana's Bravest

I toss her a sideways smile. It’s never over the top to protect someone. “You’re used to it, huh?” I turn down the mood between us with a soft gaze. “I thought with the location of your bar, your patrons would be more… um… sophisticated?”

“Fox is the choice of politicians. Hardly sophisticated.”

I chuckle and her captivating energy resurfaces.

This isn’t lust at first sight, and I don’t know if I can claim love at first sight, either. With her, I’m not feeling the wild butterfly fluttering in my gut. I’m feeling calm. Maybe she has restored the peace in me somewhat. She’s a specialist in that, didn’t she say? It’s not that I suddenly become a new man, I just feel respite, lightness, and optimism—which I haven’t had since I lost Jack.

In the meantime, guests are starting to say goodbye, keen to navigate the treacherous part of the road out of here before the storm hits.

Against the flow, one man steps onto my porch.

Thunder cracks, the loudest one so far—a fitting way to welcome, or to warn my uninvited guest.

Now, this is the peace that nobody can ever restore.

8

CASS

The weather stations were right—this storm that’s closing in on us is a menace. I help Mark to tuck Maximus inside his cage with a special blanket, while Sam is talking to an old man who has just arrived.

I should be going, just like the other guests, but my heart is weighing me down like an anchor. There’s something going on with Sam, and it tells me I shouldn’t leave him like that.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I overhear him lashing out at the late guest.

There’s another side to every man, and now I’m witnessing Sam’s. He was reassuring like a father’s protection when I had my panic attack driving through the causeway. Barring his belligerence toward the troublemaker who tried to attack me, he’s been genuinely friendly to everybody. Now, it’s hard to justify his manners, while the man he’s confronting doesn’t look to have a sliver of malice in him.

The old man replies, “I’m here to congratulate you.”

“There’s nothing to congratulate. Jack is still missing.”

His irate voice unsettles me and grounds me at the same time. Samuel Kelleher isn’t perfect. When we first met behindThe Thirsty Fox, he was simply an idol. He was desire and lust that was supposed to be a one-off. Now that I’m here with him again, I’ll still attest that he is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. But lust wouldn’t have made me feel what I’m feeling now. After being at the receiving end of his unrelenting hold, something has seeped through me. It’s warm, and it’s slowly lapping at my hardened soul. If there’s a dark side to Sam, I’m ready to face it.

“I’m not here to argue with you, son.”

So the man is Sam’s dad.

Sam shakes his head, clearly having enough of his dad. But the old man continues, “I heard about Red Mark’s anniversary?—”

“I made it up!” Sam laughs. “And you’re late, anyway.”

“I wish you’d told me you were in New York, and we could’ve?—”

“Talked?” he scoffs.

There’s anger in his tone—loud and clear—but there’s silent pain surfacing in his features. This isn’t a case of a man losing his temper—Sam is hurting. Our earlier conversation about Maximus led us to the subject of grief, but what’s unfolding in front of me is a denial of grief. I have no idea who Jack is, but the pain is as apparent on the old man’s face, as if the father and son are mirroring each other.

His dad approaches Sam, and he erupts. “Go home!”

“Why are you so hostile?”

“Ask yourself!” His round eyes widen to expose his held-back tears.

Now I am hurting too. The sparks from his magnificent gray eyes are gone, and it’s not Sam’s dark side that I’m seeing—it’s a gentle and caring man wrestling with himself.

“I had to, so I could take care of you. Your mom?—”

“Mom was too sick to take care of me. Guess what? Because—goddamn it!” Sam throws his head back, gazing at the darkened sky. Then he looks his dad straight in the eye. “Because you gave up on Jack!”

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