Page 83 of Snow in Texas

He still found Ava attractive in an unnerving way. She was older than her years, sharper and more subtle than her young exterior would suggest. Something feral and Ghost Teague in her eyes. She was barefoot, in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, thick locks of hair coming down from her ponytail.

“Hi, Colin.” She put a hand on her older boy’s dark head and kept him where he sat on the floor as she cracked the oven door to check the contents. Rich, buttery smells poured out of the opening before she shut it again with a satisfied nod. When she straightened, she turned to face him fully, giving him the Ghost-eye. “Hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A grin tugged at her lips. He hadn’t ever called her “ma’am” before. Clearly, she liked the show of respect.

Mercy popped Cal in his baby swing and went to the fridge. “I’ve got Michelob, is that alright?”

“It’s fine.”

It was when the cold beer hit his hand that it washed over him. All of it. This modest house with crayon drawings on the fridge and food waiting in hot dishes; the children who looked like their father; clever, pretty wife; a marriage. A family. A home. This was life, right here in this kitchen. Felix Lécuyer, robbed of his blood family, had clawed his way out of the swamp, and built himself a new life. The girl he loved, the children they’d had together, a home and a job and a place in the club.

Mercy hadn’t wasted any time trying to bullshit himself. He wanted love, wanted loyalty, wanted stability.

The man Colin had called father had tried to take that away from Mercy. Had forced him to choose. But how could any man give all of this up for the sake of a former friendship?

If a man he’d called friend threatened to take away Jenny, his unborn baby, his chance at a real life? Would he lay aside his shotgun?

No. No way in hell.

Colin understood, then, as he breathed in the thick scent of cornbread and Mercy frowned and asked if he felt alright. He would have shot his own father – real or fake – if it meant keeping Jenny safe. Their baby. Their future.

“Shit,” he whispered, and that was when the shaking started.

The beer fell out of his hand, and shattered at his feet.

~*~

Ashamed, he took the rag from Ava and knelt to mop up the mess he’d made. New beer in hand, he sat down at the table with them, and knew, judging by their expressions, that they understood something had happened in his mind. But they weren’t going to acknowledge it unless he wanted to.

Dinner was pan-seared pork chops, salad, cornbread, and pinto beans. Mercy had made the beans, he said, proud of his handiwork and the amount of bacon and onions he’d used.

Colin ate in silence, feeling like more of an asshole by the second as he shoveled in his sister-in-law’s home cooking. Yes, that’s who she was: his sister-in-law. And she tactfully steered the conversation with Mercy toward neutral, everyday stuff.

At least she did until Colin finally set his fork down, plate empty save a last smear of grease. Then she turned to him and said, “How’s Jenny feeling?”

Colin choked. Mercy reached over and gave him a helpful thump on the back.

“He told you?” He jerked his head toward Mercy.

Ava smiled. “Jenny did, a few weeks ago when she called me.”

“Okay…”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she assured. “She just wanted to get my opinion.”

“On what?” he and Mercy asked at the same time.

Ava glanced between them, smiling. “Oh, nothing.”

~*~

Jenny

All the security footage was recorded digitally and saved on flash drives. Catcher was swallowed up by Candy’s captain’s chair at the office computer as he plugged the drive in and pulled up the recordings.

Jenny stood behind the chair, arms folded, worrying at a fingernail with her teeth. Talis, Cowboy, and Gringo crowded into the small room with them, shrinking the walls down and thinning the air.

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