Page 115 of All We Carry Home

Violet and the twins went back to visit Eddie. I fell into a chair, overwhelmed and exhausted. Warren sat beside me, silent.

He had more to say. Something deeper burned inside him, but now wasn’t the time, and he seemed to respect my protest. I couldn’t open this door. I couldn’t let him voice his feelings—the feelings I could see in his green eyes.

The same feelings I had to bury deep down.

Still, his presence comforted me. I shifted so my arm brushed his, and eventually my head rested on his shoulder.

Sleep had almost overtaken me when Violet and the twins came out. “Warren, would you take the kids back to the ranch with you?” Violet asked. “I’ll stay overnight with Eddie.”

“Of course.” Warren stood, offered me a hand to stand as well.

Violet grabbed Peter’s shoulders in that distinct, motherly way and said to Warren, “Please look after them, will you?”

“I give my word.” Warren nodded. “I’ll stay at the ranch house on the couch. We’ll put Peter in the other room.”

My stomach tumbled in knots, and I considered pushing back on that plan, but I knew it was the best, safest option.

Violet turned to me, her dark eye makeup smeared. “Eddie wanted me to tell you not to be hard on yourself. The nurses say that your triage saved his life.”

I nodded my acceptance of the words. She kissed her children, thanked Warren, and then returned to her husband’s side.

Warren led us from the hospital and drove us back to Birkstrom, though I hardly registered anything that passed.

“You saved me.”

Had I?

That hardly mattered when I was the reason he’d been shot in the first place.

I should have sold the farm like Gramps had suggested. No family should have had to endure this.

No one should have to die for me.

Warren

Annie shuffled off to her room when we reached Eva’s house, a little after one a.m. Peter flopped onto the bed in another room—Bill’s old room. Eva pulled a blanket from the hallway closet, draped it over the boy, and closed the door.

I handed her a small pistol, my backup handgun. “I’m going to check on Phantom and with the guys. Keep this on you.”

She nodded with her eyes locked on the handgun. I saw the memories flash across her face—that hospital in the jungle and the enemies closing in.

“Eva.” I gave her a gentle shake. “I’m not going far, but I’m not going to leave you unarmed again.”

“No one will die because of me.” Her voice was thin, hoarse.

I put my hands on the sides of her face and forced her gaze to meet mine. “I’ll do whatever I can do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“You’ll be gone soon,” she said sadly.

Would I? How could I leave knowing Victor was now sending hit men after her? How could I leave knowing the expanse of my feelings for her?

“Let’s just focus on tonight,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I checked on the horses, then with Lucky and the rest of the crew. No sign of the man who’d snuck onto the property with a smooth lie. Junior was devastated by his mistake and apologized profusely. Lucky told him to ease off or he really would slug him.

I’d worry about the assailant later. I grabbed the spare change of clothes I always kept in my truck, after the many times I’d ended up covered in manure and mud without a change of clothes for the long, humid drive to the hotel, then hurried back to the house. I needed Eva close to me, needed to know she was safe.

She stood in the kitchen, making tea.