When Sullivan headed for the table, he caught the attention of his friends. Both Hayes and Beckett had matching grins on their faces.
“Sully. Sully. Can I get your autograph?” Hayes smirked, waving his napkin.
Sullivan snorted. “I’d make you pay for an autograph.” A burst of laughter was followed by rough, manly hugs. When Sullivan took a seat next to Hayes, he said, “It’s good to see you both.”
Hayes twirled his beer bottle between his fingers. “We wondered when you were going to come for a visit.”
Sullivan felt shame roll over him. These men had been at his side when his father turned into a man Sullivan didn’t recognize. A man full of hatred and rage. “I should have come home sooner.”
“Seven years sooner,” Beckett remarked.
Sullivan let the dig go. He deserved that. He’d kept in touch over text and the odd phone call, but it wasn’t enough. “Yeah, man, definitely should have.” He glanced at Hayes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for Laurel’s funeral. There’s no excuse. I should have been here.” Hayes had lost his wife, and Sullivan still felt like an asshole for sending flowers instead
of coming to her funeral. But he’d been a selfish prick, and only thought of how coming home would affect him.
Hayes cupped Sullivan’s shoulder, only warm affection on his face. “We all get why coming back here was hard for you. No one faults you for staying away.”
Yeah, because at that time, his father was still alive. Sullivan had been unable to face him. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could face him now if he were still alive.
Breaking into Sullivan’s thoughts, the bartender set his beer in front of him and gave the group a smile. “Let me know if you want seconds or some grub.”
“Thanks, Megan,” said Beckett. After she walked away from the table, he added, “That’s Nash Blackshaw’s wife.”
“You don’t say?” The Blackshaw name was a big one in River Rock, due to their cattle company—the very one Sullivan used to work at during his teenage summers—and Nash was the youngest Blackshaw brother. “I heard from Ronnie that they opened a dude ranch at the farm.”
Beckett nodded. “Yeah, they ran into some financial trouble when Mr. Blackshaw passed away, but the farm and ranch are strong.”
“Are you still working for them?” Sullivan asked then took a sip of his beer. Foxy Diva was crisp and fresh, reminding him a little of Clara.
Beckett shook his head. “I’m working for Nash now. We train and sell horses. He’s got a good thing going there.”
Sullivan swung his head toward Hayes, who smiled. “I help out when I can. You know how I love breaking horses with bad attitudes, but I’m back on the force now.”
News to Sullivan. He never knew Hayes had left his job as a cop. “You quit the force?”
Hayes looked like he had a story to tell, but he smiled it away. “Took a break for a while, but law enforcement is where I should be.”
Sullivan nodded and took a long chug of his beer. Hayes had been bred into law enforcement and came from a long line of good men and women who’d served the community of River Rock.
When he lowered his bottle to the table, Beckett leaned back in his seat and said, “All right, buddy, the chitchat is great, and I’m damn glad to see you, but fill in the missing pieces. You could have gone anywhere to serve out your suspension or stayed with the team. Why come back to the one place you said you’d never return to?”
Sullivan’s throat began to tighten, but he swallowed past his issues with sharing. He’d come home to make things right, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. “Things, after my mom died, have been rough. This last recent bar fight was enough of a wake-up call that I needed to get my head on straight, and now that my father is dead, I needed to come home to deal with the shit I’ve been running from.” Being back in River Rock wasn’t easy. It was hell. Everything in here reminded him of his sweet mother, dead in the cold ground, and the cruel father who used his fists more than his words.
“It’s good, you know, dealing with it all,” Beckett said with a firm nod.
Hayes nodded as well. “All that shit, back then, was a lot for you to take on.” He cupped his shoulder. “It’s good you came back. About time to heal those wounds.”
Sullivan figured that was about as much as they were going to talk about feelings and such since Beckett changed the subject. “I heard today you went out to the Carters’ place.” A little smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “How did that go?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Sullivan commented.
Hayes’ eyebrow lifted. “You’re not dead or marked up at all, so I’d say it went well if those Carter sisters didn’t kill you.”
“Good point,” Sullivan hedged.
Beckett asked, “What was it like, seeing Clara again?”
“Weird,” Sullivan admitted. He took another long sip of his drink before he continued, “It’s like I know her, but I don’t.”