To be here. To take some of the pressure from Dillon’s shoulders, and ensure that his father was as comfortable as possible in the coming weeks.

Dillon had warned him Dad was fading, but even then it was a shock for Troy to see how much his father had changed since Christmas. His father didn’t even look like the same person.

It had always been hard for Troy to return to Marietta. He didn’t like coming home, didn’t like the memories or emotions, and that was before Dad was sick.

Now…

He shook his head, his jaw tight.

Now he just felt even angrier, but Trey was the angry Sheenan. Trey was the one who drank too much and hit things, broke things. Not Troy.

But whenever Troy did return to Marietta, and the ranch, he felt an awful lot like his infamous twin who was currently spending a five year sentence in jail.

Troy shifted uncomfortably in the antique chair positioned close to the bed, thinking if they were going to continue these bedside vigils for their dad, who was clearly on the downward slope now, then they really needed to get a bigger, sturdier chair in the bedroom.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and floorboards creaked as Dillon entered the dimly lit master bedroom.

“You’re back,” Troy said.

“Had a couple beers and nearly got into a fight with a punchy little cowboy acting like an asshole around Callan, but Grey threw me out before I could teach that boy some manners.”

“You and Callan dating?”

“Callan and me? God, no. I’ve known her since she was in diapers but we are pretty tight. We have fun together,” Dillon said, running a hand through his thick dark hair, his hair the same shade as Troy’s, Trey’s and Brock’s. Only Cormac was fair, the same dark blond their dad had been in his early thirties. The rest of the Sheenan boys took after their late mother, Jeanette, who’d been part Indian, part Irish, and one hundred percent beautiful.

One hundred percent beautiful, and two hundred percent crazy.

Troy stretched out his legs, crossing his boots at the ankle. No, that wasn’t fair. Mom wasn’t crazy. She’d just been terribly lonely and unhappy on the ranch.

It hadn’t been the life she wanted, isolated from town and friends, alone except for her husband and her five sons.

Dad should have insisted she learn how to drive.

Dad should have insisted she got into town.

Dad should have taken care of her better.

Troy clamped his jaw, teeth grinding. Or they, her sons, should have, he thought, glancing up at Dillon.

Shouldn’t her boys have done more? Because isn’t that what sons should do? Take care of their mother?

“How was Dad while I was gone?” Dillon asked.

“He got up once, needing to use the bathroom, and I helped him get there, but the rest of the time, he pretty much slept.”

Dillon leaned against one of the columns of the four poster bed. “He does that a lot.”

“He thought I was Trey,” Troy added.

“Understandable, you’re twins and Trey used to live here with him.”

“He insisted I was Trey.”

Dillon grinned. “So what did you do?”

“Act like I was Trey, and let him lecture me on how I needed to make things right with McKenna and step up and take responsibility for my son.”

Dillon’s smile faded. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.”

“Trey loves his son, and McKenna.”

“Kind of hard to be a good partner and father in jail.”

“He’ll get out and he’ll get his act together.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be too late by then, at least, for him and McKenna.”

Troy’s brows pulled. “You think so?”

Dillon grimaced. “She’s getting married again.”

“What?”

Dillon nodded. “Lawrence proposed last week, after asking Rory and Quinn for permission to marry their sister. Of course, Rory and Quinn, who both hate Trey, said yes.”

“If McKenna was our sister we’d hate Trey, too,” Troy said quietly, tiredly, aware that Trey would not take the news well. It was a good thing Trey was in jail. Because if Trey weren’t locked up, there’s no way in hell he’d let McKenna, his first and only love, and the mother of his boy, marry another man.

“Who’s going to tell Trey?”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Not until fall.”

“Then there’s no point saying anything now. Something could happen. The engagement could get called off. Why work Trey up when it could be nothing?” Troy nodded at the bed. “I’m going to grab my stuff from the truck and crash. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Chapter Three

‡‡

Troy had gone to his truck without his coat and it was cold, seriously cold. His breath clouded in the air as he quickly scooped his bags from the backseat of the big Escalade. He was just about to slam the door shut when he heard a buzzing sound from beneath the passenger seat in front of him.

It sounded an awful lot like a phone.

His heart sank, thinking it was either the little librarian’s phone, or the person who’d rented the car before him.