He straightened abruptly. As if some kind of robot had taken over, his features hardened into a mask. “My father was so insane with grief that he tried to have me arrested for murder. The sheriff told him it was an accident, but my dad was right. I killed her, just as if I’d taken out a gun and done it on purpose. He banned me from the funeral and told me he had only one son. Told me to get the hell out and never come back.”
Mitch turned to face her, his voice emotionless, though she could see in his eyes the wounded creature still writhing in pain. “I never did. And now it’s too late.”
“Why?”
Though his voice was still impassive, she could see tiny cracks in his control. “I got a letter today, too. From my brother Boone. A private investigator tracked me down. Boone wants me to come home.”
His eyes were the saddest thing she’d ever seen. “I can go home now because my father’s dead.”
Oh, God. What a horrible tragedy, for all of them. No wonder he held himself so much apart from others, never formed bonds of any kind. With all he’d suffered, how could she bring down more on him by involving him in the tangled web of her own life?
“Will you go?” she asked. “To see your brother?”
The mask dissolved, just a little. She saw the longing in his gaze before he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you miss him?”
“I don’t know him any more.”
“I’ve seen you look at Davey. There’s so much more to you than you admit, Mitch. You need a family. You need to let yourself be loved.”
“You need to face Simon,” he retorted. “Are you going to do it?”
Perrie recoiled, then stared at him, wondering how she’d been so wrong in the beginning. He wasn’t cold and unfeeling as she’d assumed—if anything, Mitch felt too much. He’d lived for many years consumed by guilt and needless pain over what had basically been a youthful mistake, however tragic the consequences. His father had wronged him badly, but Mitch still heaped all the blame on himself, taking responsibility that wasn’t all his.
Just as he’d taken her and Davey on, despite his preference to remain alone. Though she’d once seen only a loner and a drifter, the days here had shown her a man capable of deep caring, a man who had been as good a father figure as she could ever have conjured up for her son. Who’d been kind to her even when he’d thought the worst of her. Who had shown her tantalizing glimpses of just how a woman could be cherished—until she’d forced him away.
What more could they have together if she would take a chance? If she would go back to Boston and end Simon’s threat to their lives? She’d made a big mistake in judgment with Simon, but Mitch was Simon’s polar opposite. He’d shown them in a thousand ways just how worthy he was of their trust.
She wanted more time with him, more space to let love grow, for she knew, deep in her heart, that love was what this was all about. A love deserving of a chance that she could provide—if she’d go back.
But she couldn’t take Davey back there. Couldn’t risk it. Then an idea popped into her head.
I want you to be my dad. She could hear Davey’s words ringing.
“Mitch?”
He turned from his contemplation of the fire.
“Do you want me?”
He looked stunned. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
“A simple question. With a simple answer.”
He shook his head. “It’s not simple at all.”
“Then I’ve got my answer. No.” Shoulders sagging, she turned away and started packing.
His big hand gripped her shoulder, spun her around. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I…” Fear bolted up her spine, making it hard to breathe. Gripping her hands tightly together, she forced herself to go on. “I want you. I want you in my life, but I don’t want you hurt by Simon. I want what Davey wants, but he’s braver about asking.”
His fingers dug into her arms. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? People who care about me die.”
“One person,” she whispered.
“What?” His eyes were wild now, as though he wanted to be anyplace but here.
She swallowed. “One person died. And it was an accident.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s still dead. My family still disintegrated.”
Perrie got mad then, and anger gave her courage. “That was your father’s fault, not yours.”
“Don’t you understand? I don’t know the first thing about love.”
“You’re so wrong. I’ve watched you with Davey.” She glanced down, then forced her gaze back up. “I’ve felt your caress.”