Page 5 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

Which is why he’d been just as surprised as her when he’d subtly asked for her number this morning, but he hadn’t wanted to say good-bye. If her reaction was any indication, though, he would not be calling the station again. She no doubt thought he was a creeper.

Realizing he’d left his dad hanging without answering, he called, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You mind going to the grocery store for me? I’ve got a meeting in Twin Falls in an hour and don’t want to be late.”

Fred Silverton was weathered and craggy, but his shoulders and arms told the story of a man who had worked hard his entire life. His alcoholism had spiraled out of control just after Everett’s mom had died eighteen years ago, and it was only in the last six months—since he’d been diagnosed with pancreatitis—that he had begun seeking treatment. Things had been going well, so far, but while Everett believed their father was truly committed, Justin had his doubts—and it showed.

Justin had every right to his anger and resentment. Everett had spent two years picking up his dad at whatever bar he’d passed out at, but Justin had had it worse after Everett enlisted. But despite what Fred had put them through, they were still family, and family had each other’s back.

“Sure, Dad, just give me your list.” Everett abandoned his soda and stepped outside, only to be treated to a smack of cold air on his face. The wind blew crisp and hard this time of year, and he reached back inside to grab his jacket.

“Here,” Fred said, handing Everett a scrap of paper.

“I’ll head out now. I was going to go for a hike, but I can push that back until later.”

“Well, I will probably go for coffee with my sponsor after the meeting and maybe have dinner with some of the guys after, so don’t wait on me for supper.”

Everett smiled and slapped his dad on the back. “Are we ever going to meet your sponsor? This woman who steals you away?”

Fred Silverton’s leathery face flushed, and he grumbled, “It’s not like that. She’s too young for me.”

His father was in his sixties, but Everett had a hard time believing a woman in her forties or fifties was too young for him. At least, that was how old he assumed his dad’s sponsor was. It seemed crazy that someone any younger would be mature enough to be a good example for his father.

“Well, still, you should have her over to the house,” Everett said. “Anyone who has your back and that you respect so well is welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you, son.” Fred cleared his throat. “I appreciate that.”

Everett watched his father head to his truck. He definitely looked better, but he still seemed worn out. His pancreatitis flared up every once in a while; plus, he was just getting too old to work as hard as he used to. Which was where Everett and Justin came in.

Silverton Farms was running smoothly and successfully, but it had more to do with Justin’s passion than Everett’s. Everett had too much to do with his nonprofit, Stateside Support, than with the farm.

Right now, Everett’s organization was active only in Idaho, but the hotline counseling was statewide, and he’d partnered with several other national organizations where he could direct vets for job and housing assistance. He spent anywhere from five to eight hours a day counseling over the phone, and although he avoided any kind of interviews, he’d hired a publicity crew just before Stateside Support had launched. They went on air and handled the TV appearances and radio interviews. He just wasn’t big on parading around in front of strangers. Even though the people of Rock Canyon treated him with respect, he felt their pitying stares whenever he ran errands in town. If that was the way people who knew him reacted to his scarred face, how would an on-air interview go? And if they started asking questions about the fire . . .

Yeah, living the hermit life had its benefits.

He could have moved anywhere after he was honorably discharged and his marriage fell apart, but anywhere else, he didn’t have his family. The awkward encounters here were worth dealing with, just to be close to his father and brother.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he climbed into his silver Chevy and brought the large diesel to life with a twist of the key. He usually let it warm up a bit, but he needed the drive to get out of his head and stop thinking about what an ass he’d made of himself that morning with Callie. He could blame his stupidity on being lonely, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth. Every time he called in, his hands began sweating and his heart pounded.

It was a hell of a reaction to have to a woman he’d never actually met.

Maybe that’s why he’d thought there was something more between them and that she might have felt the connection too. He’d even considered accepting the interview for Stateside that Eddie Kendall had scheduled with Callie’s morning show, just so he could meet her.

But her silence had told him in no uncertain terms that was a bad idea.

Pulling the truck off the gravel road and onto the pavement leading into town, he shook his head. He’d been crazy to think she’d give out her number to some guy who called in to her station. What sane woman would? It was just that since he’d been back, dating had been tough—and not just because of his scars. Even months after he returned, he’d suffered from night terrors so severe that he’d wake up in a neighbor’s yard, with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Even the backfire of a car could send him to his knees, screaming Robbie’s name . . .

God, it was hard to think about the world without Robbie.

It was hard to relate to the cheery, small-town girls he’d taken out. He’d joined the marines at eighteen and done four tours in Afghanistan. He was twenty-seven when he was honorably discharged, months after he’d returned home to recover from his burns.

After everything he’d suffered and the five years of therapy he’d gone through just so he could function seminormally, the sheltered, small-town women he’d gone out with would never be able to comprehend the darkness that still hung heavily on his conscience. He was thirty-four now, and in the past eight years, he’d suffered more loss and pain than most people would in a lifetime. And although he’d met a few women he’d had things in common with, there just hadn’t been that spark of interest. Which was why Callie Jay the DJ had taken him by surprise; the electricity between them sizzled, and they’d never even met.

Six minutes later, Everett parked his truck and headed into Hall’s Market. On his way in, he passed a hay bale circle filled with pumpkins and thought about grabbing a few for Justin and Val’s wedding. They were having a fall theme, and Val had mentioned something about pumpkin centerpieces on Pinterest. Maybe he should pick some up for them.

Pulling out his cell, Everett suddenly ran smack into someone coming out of the store and instinctively caught their arms.

Make that her arms.

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