Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(60)

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Rowan was sobbing, throwing herself into Regina’s arms.

“No, honey, it wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just . . . a perfect storm of catastrophic circumstances.”

“My entire life has been a perfect storm of catastrophic circumstances,” Rowan said, shredding Savannah’s heart further, and she couldn’t take anymore. She left her seat to wrap both of the women in her arms. And they accepted her, even Rowan clutching at her fiercely. “I love you, Savvy.”

“Love you too, Ro. Always, no matter what, okay? I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Rowan sniffled.

Savannah caught sight of her dad over her sister-in-law’s blond head—he was staring at the wall opposite them, a hand to his mouth, no tears or any sign of emotion on his face whatsoever. Only the people who knew him best would see that he was as devastated as the rest of them.

And it was all her fault, really, that they were having to relive this again. Her fault for being interested in someone she shouldn’t be. Even if, at the end of the day, Mike wasn’t as responsible for Tommy’s death as Rowan liked to think, he was still a trigger, wasn’t he? The mere mention of him would make it all come back for them. Things would never be normal. She would have to respect that.

Or let it go.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Savannah ventured. “That’s the last thing I want. That’s the last thing he wants.”

Mike had been brought into the conversation already, but not really. They could still talk about him but keep him at a distance. Her voicing his thoughts, giving him life, made a stillness travel through the room. Confirming her fears. Even if Tommy had a ticking time bomb in his head, as her dad said, it didn’t matter. Mike was the catalyst. He had set it off. Nothing would ever change it.

“He’s a good person,” she said, at once desperate and hopeless. “Please know that I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t. He wanted to contact you all from the start to let you know how sorry he was. I told him not to. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know.”

“I just don’t want anything to do with him, Savannah.” Rowan disengaged herself from the hug, but she didn’t look angry or defensive. She looked tired and lost. “You can be with him if you want. We’re fine, okay? But seeing him . . . no. I can’t do it.”

“I have to agree,” Regina said quietly. “Maybe someday, eventually, we’ll feel differently.”

Somehow, it hurt worse than an order or an ultimatum—something her parents were very good at. Why was that? Was it the silent disappointment on their faces alongside the grief? Had she completely and utterly let them down to the point that they couldn’t be bothered to deal with her?

Was she just a kid crying for attention and not getting it? Jesus.

“Okay,” she said, sounding small and more than a little lost herself. “I understand.”





Chapter Eighteen


I need to see you.

The message came at eleven as Mike was trying to get to sleep, and worry gnawed into his gut. It seemed like more than desire or late-night sweet talk. Savannah had been absent all night, which wasn’t normal for her, and now he sensed seriousness behind these words.

When? he replied.

Soon. Please.

Is everything okay?

She was a long time, an eternity, answering. I don’t know. I miss you.

All right, enough of this. He couldn’t lie here and try to decipher her words; he needed to hear her voice. She answered when he called, but for an awful moment he thought she wasn’t going to. As he’d feared, her greeting was shaky, uncertain.

“Hi.”

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I talked to my parents tonight.”

Worry turned into full-blown dread as Mike’s heart lurched, and for just one god-awful split second, he didn’t know if he could take any more. All the guilt, the shame, the pointing fingers, would it ever f*cking stop? He wished, and not for the first time, that he could actually be the cold-blooded bastard everyone took him for. Then maybe he wouldn’t give a shit. “What did they say?”

“That Tommy should never have been fighting. He might have had a previous concussion that contributed to his death.”

Fuck. He put the phone to his chest for a second, grinding the heel of his other hand into his forehead. Hearing that should have helped, kind of, in some small way. It didn’t.

When Savannah’s distant voice reached him, asking if he was still there, he brought the phone back to his ear, his own words gruff and empty. “I’ll be there by morning.”

Jon would flip his shit and cuss him six ways to Sunday; well, maybe Mike could in some small way be that cold-blooded bastard he wanted to be, because he honestly couldn’t give a f*ck.

“You don’t have to do that. I was thinking of this weekend or—”

“No. Give me your address. I’ll get to you.”

Relief in her voice, she gave it to him, along with the code to punch in the keypad at her gate and her door. The first flight probably wouldn’t leave out until five in the morning, and he could be there by then if he drove. “Try to get some sleep,” he told her, “and I’ll be there when you wake up.”