Page 60 of Man of Honor

“Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing at the prickling hairs on the back of my neck. “What a messed-up place to raise kids.”

“Nah.” His crooked smile tugged at my heart. “For kids like us, it was heaven.”

I curled an arm around his waist and tugged him close, kissing the side of his throat. “Well, if there are ghosts, they’re not big on leaving evidence. Let’s get you back to bed. I’ve got a few hours left before I roll out.”

“I know a shortcut. Follow me.” Gage grabbed my hand, pulling me down a path crowded with dying jasmine. The air was cooler here, dense with moisture, as if sunlight never reached this spot. His grip was firm as he led me around the skeletal remains of the greenhouse.

“Shortcut, huh?” I muttered, tripping on a loose paving stone.

Gage’s grin flickered like a candle in the dark. “Trust me. It’s quicker, if not prettier.”

I let him lead, his fingers laced with mine, but something about the quiet made my skin crawl. It wasn’t just the quiet—it was thesense that I’d missed something. I’d just opened my mouth to tell Gage to go on ahead when he stopped dead in front of me.

“Wyatt,” he said, tightening his grip on my hand. He was staring at something on the path.

“What is it?” I asked, dropping a hand to the small of his back and instantly moving to stand beside him.

He pointed at a patch of crushed vegetation. A faint imprint of boot tread marred the dirt—and it was fresh. Too fresh to be from that afternoon. My gut twisted as I crouched to examine it.

Whoever I’d seen wasn’t a ghost; that was for damn sure.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

GAGE

“Look out, dumbasses!”

Ben and I split apart just in time for a teenage boy to zoom past us on a skateboard.

“Small-town charm,” Ben said dryly, watching with a half-smile as the kid vanished down the street.

The Devil’s Garden shopping district was one of the few places that hadn’t decayed past recognition while I was away. It looked like something from an old postcard, all brick-lined streets and hand-painted signs. The kind of place that reminded me of a childhood I’d never had, filled with Saturday morning cartoons and popsicles on the porch. Boutique windows gleamed with elaborate displays that catered to the town’s wealthiest families.

Dominic might shop here, but it wasn’t my scene. If I’d been driving, we wouldn’t have come, but Ben’s babysitter had insisted. Colton Langford reeked of money. A big box store would be beneath him.

On the upside, the fancy shit offered a nice distraction for Ivy.

A few days had passed since we’d found the footprints, and Eden felt like a powder keg. We hadn’t said a word about it to her, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the tightened security, Marcel’s constant presence, and Loretta’s sudden insistence on the buddy system. She was a smart kid; she might not know the details, but she knew she wasn’t safe. She felt it, just like I’d felt it for years until my old man came sniffing around.

I refused to let what I’d been through happen to her, so I’d broken down and told Wyatt everything I knew about Paulie. No sign of him yet, not even at the Dead End where his kind gathered like cockroaches.

I glanced back at her when she paused in front of a bakery display. She was clutching the hem of her fraying sweatshirt and staring wide-eyed at the po’boys wrapped in crisp paper, rows of shiny pralines, and pecan pies stacked like trophies.

“You doing okay, kid?” I asked.

She startled, and her eyes snapped to mine. “Yeah.”

I didn’t believe her for a second, but I wasn’t going to push.

“Feels like we don’t belong in this world,” Ben said sympathetically, watching an old couple walk hand-in-hand toward the city park.

“Yeah, well, this place stays the same. We don’t.” I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets and nudged my brother down the sidewalk. “You called anyone yet? Let your old buddies know you’re back?”

Ben hunched his shoulders and scuffed his boot against the sidewalk. “Not yet. No point until I get this thing off.” He tiltedhis ankle, revealing the bulky monitor beneath the cuff of his jeans. “And ditch the babysitter.”

My gaze shifted to Langford, leaning against his polished sedan a block away. With his tailored suit and mirrored sunglasses, the guy looked like he’d just nabbed a corporate sponsorship. I hated him on sight. Who wouldn’t? Everything about him screamed privilege, a man who’d never struggled or lived on the edge. Guys like him saw too much and understood too little. He wasn’t close enough to eavesdrop—officially—but his presence alone was a reminder that Ben wasn’t truly free. Not yet.

It made me want to put my fist through something.

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