“Connor.”
“Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I had a fight with Bryan. I hit him, he hit me.”
“Honey, why would you—”
Again he jerked away from her hands. “It’s my business why. I don’t have to tell you everything, just like you don’t tell me everything.”
It was rare, very rare, for her to have to discipline the boy. “No, you don’t,” she said evenly. “But you will mind your tone when you speak to me.”
His swollen lip trembled, but he kept his eyes steady. “Why didn’t you ever tell him that? Why didn’t you ever tell him to mind his tone when he spoke to you? You let him say anything he wanted, do anything he wanted.”
Her own shame at hearing the bald truth from her son swamped her. “Connor, if this is about your father—”
“Don’t call him that. Don’t ever call him my father. I hate him, and I’m ashamed of you.”
She made some sound as tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t speak.
“You’re going to let it happen again,” Connor raged on. “You’re just going to let it happen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Connor. Come inside and sit down and let’s straighten this out.”
“There’s nothing to say. I won’t stay if you marry Sheriff MacKade. I won’t stay and watch when he hits you. I won’t let you make me have a father again.”
She sucked in a harsh breath, forced it out again. “I’m not going to marry him, Connor. I’d just started to think about it, but I would never have made a decision on something that important without talking to you and Emma. And I’d never marry anyone if you were against it. I couldn’t.”
“He wants you to.”
“Yes, he wants me to. He loves me and wants us to be a family. He deserves a family.” When she said it, she realized how true it was, how selfish she’d been to ask him to wait. “He cares for us. I thought you cared for him, Connor.”
“I don’t want a father. I’m not ever going to have one, no matter what you do. Everything’s good now, and you’re going to ruin it.”
“No, I won’t.” She blinked the tears back. “Go upstairs now, Connor, and get cleaned up.”
“I won’t—”
“Do as you’re told,” she said sternly. “However you feel about me, I’m your mother and I’m in charge. I have to fix breakfast down here. You clean up and keep an eye on Emma until I’m finished.”
She turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Somehow she got through it, the cooking, the serving, the conversations. When she’d finished clearing up, she checked on the children, suggested that they play in the yard while she tidied the guest rooms.
She refused Connor’s stiff offer to help, and left them to play. She was changing the linens on the bed in Abigail’s room when she heard the front door open and close.
She knew it was Devin. She knew he’d come.
She didn’t know that Connor had heard the car and, demanding a vow of silence from Emma, crept into the hallway.
“Can I give you a hand with that?” Devin asked.
“No.” Cassie smoothed the contoured sheet out, then reached for the top one. “I’ve got it.”
“I saw Con and Bry over at the farm this morning. You’re not upset with him, are you? Boys get into tussles.”
?
??No, I’m not upset about that.”
“About what?”