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  The fact that Killian and I are back here, in this place with all of its shitty memories, is some kind of fucked up, I think. At least Bud isn't trying to reminisce, make small talk about the past, rose-colored memories or some bullshit. He's happy just leaving us alone.

  "I don't know," I say, glancing at Killian. "Got a job up at the Mayburn orchard."

  "In the bar, I mean," Bud says, giving me an odd look. "I'm heading into the back office for a bit, got some paperwork to do. If you need a refill, you know where the beer is. You boys yell if anyone else comes in."

  "Sure, Bud," Killian says with a laugh that sounds more like a cough. The bar is empty except for the two of us and a regular slumped down in the dimly lit back corner, his feet propped up on another chair and his cowboy hat pulled halfway down over his forehead, shielding his eyes. I'm not sure if he's passed out or asleep or if he's a permanent fixture of the bar. He could very well be dead.

  Killian and I drink in silence until I finally speak. "The job at the Mayburn orchard is a temporary thing," I say. I'm not sure why I feel the need to tell him this. "Foreman position. The fucking chick running the place is lucky she didn't burn down half her orchard."

  Killian nods and takes another pull on his beer. "I knew this was a story involving a chick," he says, finally turning toward me. His expression is serious, but there's the familiar twinkle in his eyes he gets when he gives me shit, just like he always has. Killian and I are two years apart, and were always closer to each other than we were to Elias and Silas.

  Silas and Elias always had some kind of weird ESP shit going on, even when they were kids, whatever the hell kind of simpatico twins inevitably seem to have. They were always on the same wavelength. Killian, on the other hand, used to give me a ration of shit nearly all the time, smacking me across the back of the head for doing something stupid, but taking up for me when kids at school acted like assholes.

  Or when our father came home drunk and mean. Killian was the one who took the brunt of his rage as the oldest, always stepping in to protect us. I don't know how bad that fucked him up, but I can imagine. He never talks about it.

  "It's not about a chick," I say, but the thought of Autumn makes my cock stir, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

  "Sure it's not," Killian says, laughing. "Shit, I'm your big brother. You think I don't know how you lose your damn mind over pussy? There's definitely a girl involved. I'm just surprised that you're sticking around here, that's all."

  "There's no pussy involved," I protest. "I want to find out what the hell happened with mom, that's all."

  Killian shrugs. "What the fuck do you think happened with her? Pills and booze."

  "Mom hardly ever drank, Killian," I say. "You know that. With how much of an alcoholic dad was? She hated the stuff. Besides, you were the one who said there was no way she killed herself.”

  "People change, Luke," he says. "And maybe I’m just playing devil’s advocate. How long has it been since you've been back here? You don't know that she didn't start drinking. Who knows what the hell happened?"

  "It doesn't make sense," I protest. "Anyway, why would she kill herself after the asshole died? After all that time with him, suffering living with him – she just goes and offs herself once she's free? Come on, Killian, even you know that doesn't make a lick of sense."

  Killian turns toward me now, his dark eyes flashing. "You go poking around in shit like that, Luke, you may not like the answers you find to those kinds of questions."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Killian's tone pisses me off – some kind of cross between a warning and a big brotherly lecture. I'm not a kid, the way Killian seems to perpetually think of me.

  Killian takes another pull on his beer and then exhales heavily. "It means that you should stop poking around in this kind of bullshit. What if you find that it really was a suicide?"

  "So what?" I ask, shrugging. "Then we know. She killed herself, and that's all there is to it."

  "And if it's a suicide, it means that our mother killed herself because she couldn't live without the asshole," Killian says. "It means that all that time, all those years she was with him, all those years he kicked the shit out of us as kids, she didn't leave him. That she wanted to be with him. That's what it's going to mean if you find out that she committed suicide. Do you really want to find out the answer to that question?"

  "She was weak, Killian," I say. "That never really was a question. I'm not doubting that."

  "But if she offed herself over that asshole, then it's more than just she was weak. Do you fucking get that? It means she loved him the whole time. Do you feel what I'm saying?"

  "I get it," I say. "I just don't think that's what happened."

  Killian rolls his eyes. "You think someone killed her?" he asks. "Why?"

  "I don't know why. That's what I want to know."

  Killian shakes his head. "Shit, Luke, you never could settle for doing what anyone told you to do, without asking 'why' a thousand damn times."

  "Remember in sixth grade when Ms. Hasley kicked me out of class for arguing with her about the field trip?"

  "Fuck," Killian says, laughing under his breath. "Of course I do. I was the one who had to pick your damn ass up from school and take you home. You would have gotten your ass beat too if I hadn't covered for you. At least Ms. Hasley didn't send a note home."

  "She knew what the asshole would have done if he'd have found out."

  "I reckon so," Killian says. He drains the rest of his bottle and stares ahead for a long time, silent. "So you really think something's going on?"

  "I don't know," I tell him. The honest truth is that I have no fucking clue. But my gut says something's not right with her death. And if something's off with hers, it has to do with the asshole's death too, since he didn't die that long before her. They have to be connected. But I definitely don't tell Killian that part of things. "Maybe. Maybe it's nothing."

  "Yeah, well, I've got to go back out to the rig this week," Killian says. Killian is a roughneck, has been working on oil rigs since he turned eighteen. Just like the rest of us, he got the hell out of West Bend as soon as he could.

  I've passed through West Bend before, come through the area to snowboard, or on a smokejumper contract. But this trip is different. This is the longest I've stayed in West Bend since I left.

  I tell myself that fact is entirely about my mother's unexpected death and not at all to do with the smokin' hot redhead who owns the orchard.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Autumn

  Yanking the cidery door open, I walk inside, grateful for the rush of warm air when I enter the building. I push a rogue strand of hair away from my face and tuck it back into my ponytail. "Damn, Mary," I call. "It's starting to get chilly out there in the mornings."

  The sound of her laughter reverberates through the front room of the distillery, and the door to the back room swings open as she walks through the doorway, Luke trailing behind her.

  "Autumn," Mary says. "Luke was just telling me the funniest story about –"

  "Yes," I interrupt, my tone harsher than I intend it to be. I swallow hard, hoping I sound more business-like than jealous. Because I'm totally not jealous, and have no reason to be, I remind myself. "I didn't realize you were in the cidery today, Mr. Saint."

  Luke shouldn't be in the cidery. He should be outside in the orchard, overseeing the workers. Or repairing a fence or something. Like the last time – standing in the sun, sweat glistening off his shirtless chest…

  On second thought, it's good that Luke Saint is in here. Fully clothed and not doing manual labor.

  "I was looking for you, actually, Ms. Mayburn," Luke says, emphasizing my name. My face flushes warm at the way my name rolls off his tongue, slow and warm. Intimate.

  I tell myself that the way it sounds is all in my imagination, not intentional on his part, merely an inappropriate fantasy of mine.

  But when my eyes meet his, even standing here on the other side o