“Perrie, you have to face this, or you and Davey have no future. You can’t keep running away.”
Perrie laughed bitterly and whirled to face him. “You’re a fine one to be talking.” She stabbed a finger in his direction. “What are you doing here, if not hiding out? You won’t let anyone close, won’t stay in one place. Something’s happened in your life and you’re still running away from it—who are you to tell me I have to face Simon?”
Mitch took a step back from her anger, fury flooding his veins. He clenched his fists, ready to turn and—
And walk away. Just as she’d accused.
How different was that from Perrie running?
Within him boiled a potent brew of too many feelings he couldn’t contain. He grasped at a lifetime of rigid control, knowing that like a pressure cooker over a fire turned too high, too much threatened to blow free. Hadn’t he learned the price of emotion careening around, destroying everything in its path?
Silence had been his refuge for so long. It was hard to let go.
He turned to the fire, grasping hold of the mantel.
How could he tell her what he’d done? How would she ever trust him then?
But something inside Mitch told him that if he didn’t try now, he never would. And a chance, infinitely precious, would be lost to him forever.
Perrie watched the struggle. Mitch was a very private man, never more alone than now.
“I killed my mother.” His voice was harsh. Unyielding. Dark with pain.
She stemmed the shock of his words. “I don’t believe you.”
Eyes that were black holes of agony bored into her gaze. Silence spun out, then finally he spoke. “She was the gentlest person I ever knew. The mother every kid should have. Never too busy to read a story or bake cookies or hand out hugs.” He looked straight at her. “She was a lot like you that way. Davey doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”
Perrie held her breath, for fear of stemming the flow of this bounty of words from such a private man.
“When I was sixteen, I was a hell-raiser—full of myself, full of itches to be grown, to be gone, to live anywhere but Morning Star, Texas.” He glanced away, unseeing. “I don’t know why. My brother Boone was two years younger, and he loved the ranch. Couldn’t get enough of any of it, especially horses. Me, I couldn’t wait to get away. My dad and I locked horns almost every day.”
More emotion than she’d ever seen swept across his face. Longing. Anguish. Anger.
“I came home drunk one night—one of many nights—and my dad and I got in a big fight. I threw some words around without caring where they hit. Said I’d had it, I was moving out. He told me the sooner the better.”
Sixteen. Still more boy than man.
“I loaded up my stuff and left, a lot of harsh words between us. My mom was crying, and I remember hearing them fighting as I drove away.”
Darkness shadowed his face. “The night was rainy, and I was drunk and mad and driving like a bat out of hell. I almost hit a truck, but he swerved and missed me. He lost control and hit a car down the road behind me.”
Then despair like she’d never seen washed over him. “My mother had jumped in her car to come after me. It was her car that he hit.” Mitch paused, as if he couldn’t bear to continue.
Perrie clenched her hands, her palms wet. She wanted to stop him, to tell him he didn’t have to say any more.
He swallowed hard. “I saw the crash in my rearview mirror. I turned around and went back. And found her.”
One hand covered her mouth. Perrie didn’t want to hear any more, but he needed to tell her.
He lifted his gaze to hers, his dark eyes so filled with torment that Perrie wanted to cry out herself. She took a step toward him, but Mitch held up a hand to stop her.
“She died in my arms, but not before she told me not to let my anger win. She asked me to take care of Dad and Boone. Told me she—” He swallowed hard. “She loved me. I killed her because I couldn’t control my hot head—and she’s telling me how sorry she is for me. Telling me she loves me.”
Perrie couldn’t stand back and let him suffer. She grasped his hand. “It was an accident, Mitch. A terrible, tragic accident. You didn’t mean it to happen.”
He yanked away and roared. “Of course I didn’t—but that didn’t matter. She was still dead—the best person I ever knew. And I was walking around without a scratch.” He raked fingers through his hair. “My dad never forgave me, and I can’t blame him. He loved her with every breath in his body, and the last words they spoke were in anger—because of me. Because I couldn’t control my goddamned feelings, couldn’t see anyone outside myself.”