His expression darkened. “Who knew I was stayin’ here?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Max. Ruth, although I don’t think she knew you were plannin’ to sleep over.”

“That wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out. All she’d have to do is drive by.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think Ruth had something to do with this?” I shook my head. “Look, I know you two don’t care for each other, but you have to admit that’s far-fetched. What would she have to gain?”

“Maybe someone threatened her. Maybe they offered to pay her money. Is she talkin’ about makin’ any big purchases?”

There was no way I was going to admit she’d been talking about buying a house less than eight hours ago. “You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“Am I? Because I’m not seein’ many trees, Carly, and I suspect this isn’t the last guy who’s gonna come after you. With me leavin’, the only thing standin’ between you and them is a one-legged man’s shotgun.”

“That one-legged man’s shotgun saved me once.”

“I’m not sure if I’d count on it happenin’ again.” He glanced at Hank and then back at me. “Do you know who broke in?”

“A guy named Cecil Abrams. One of Bingham’s men.”

He didn’t say anything, and his expression was inscrutable, so I wasn’t sure whether he was surprised.

“Does that mean anything to you?” I asked.

“Does it mean anything to you?” he parroted.

I pushed out a defeated sigh. I didn’t want to fight with him. I was so sick of fighting, and I wanted Wyatt to be the man he seemed to be.

His expression softened. “You’re exhausted. Go inside and get some sleep. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for work. You workin’ the evening shift?”

“Yeah.”

“Call me if you have any trouble. My home and garage numbers are on a paper taped to the side of the fridge.” With one final glance back at Hank, he got in his tow truck and drove away.

Hank shook his head as I walked up to the porch. “There’s only one reason that boy wouldn’t answer your question. His daddy has something to do with this.”

“He can’t stand his father,” I said, wearily climbing the steps. “I don’t believe he’d ever turn on you, Hank. I think you’re the father he wished he had. Turning him away like that hurt him.”

He was silent.

“I’m tired and I know you have to be too. Let’s go inside and check your blood sugar before you go back to bed.”

“I don’t need to check my damn blood sugar,” he grumped as he let me help him out of the chair.

I handed him the crutches I’d brought out earlier. “Well, we’re gonna check it anyway.”

I helped him into his room and onto the bed. A quick check showed his sugar was high, so he gave himself an insulin injection before getting under the covers.

“Carly,” he said as I started to walk out of the room.

I stopped and turned back to him.

“I know you never asked to be part of all this, but you’re holdin’ your own, girl.”

That was funny, because I felt like I was drowning.

Chapter Twenty-Four

There was no way I was sleeping in Seth’s room after what had happened, so I grabbed my purse and set it on the floor next to the sofa, placing the gun Max had given me on the coffee table.

My sleep was fitful. I kept having nightmares of Seth’s murder and Cecil Abrams breaking into my room.

I finally sank into a deep sleep around six, and I woke up to the smell of coffee. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows behind me.

Had Wyatt come back?

I sat up and went into the kitchen, shocked to see Hank sitting at the kitchen table. But then I wondered why I was so surprised. Last night he’d killed a man and held his own with a hardened criminal. A man like that wouldn’t hesitate to try getting around his house days after a major surgery.

“You shouldn’t overdo it,” I said, heading straight for the coffee maker.

“Girl, my leg didn’t get bad overnight. I was fighting ulcers and whatnot for months and gettin’ along with one leg. I just need to get my strength back up, which should happen sooner than later with your cookin’.”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Nine thirty.”

“What?” Not counting my pity party in Little Rock and Gatlinburg, I hadn’t slept so late in years. “How long have you been up?”

“A couple of hours.”

“I’m sorry.” Some caretaker I was turning out to be.

“You needed your sleep,” he said.

“And so do you.” I opened the fridge and pulled out the creamer as well as the carton of eggs. “Do you want me to change your bandage before or after breakfast?”

“After,” he said. “Give me something to look forward to.” He was trying to make a joke, but his voice was flat.

“If you think I’m too much trouble, Hank, I can go back to the motel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, so you hush about that,” he said as he picked up his coffee cup. “Those assholes are lookin’ for somethin’ they think Seth hid. They would’ve broken in whether you were here or not.”

I made him fried eggs and toast, hoping it would be okay for his diabetes. I had no way of knowing. There were no bookstores in Drum and no internet in Hank’s house. I was stuck. We were stuck.

After picking at my scrambled eggs, I cleaned up the kitchen, then got all the supplies ready to change his dressing. We decided to do it on his bed, but the sheets likely hadn’t been changed in a while, judging by the state of his room, so I stripped the bed and stuffed them in the washing machine with the sheets Wyatt had taken from Seth’s bed. After I covered the mattress with clean sheets from the closet, I set out several towels to help keep the mattress and new sheet from getting soiled. Hank refused help getting onto the bed, but he looked pretty worn out by the time he laid his head on his pillow.

“I’m gonna try not to hurt you,” I said anxiously.

He closed his eyes. “You don’t worry about that, girl. You’ll do fine.”

I’d been counting on Wyatt to help me, and for some stupid reason, tears sprang to my eyes. But I blinked them away, telling myself I was being ridiculous. I had made my agreement with Hank before Wyatt had offered—insisted—on helping out. I could do this.

Hank’s incision looked good and there was no sign of infection. The nurse had been much quicker and more efficient, but I was determined to do it right, even though I hated causing him pain. When I finally announced I was done, Hank just nodded and said, “You done good, girl.”

I was sweating from exertion and nerves, but I didn’t want him to see it. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?”

I knew I’d worn him out when he grunted and closed his eyes.

The washing machine had finished, but the dryer didn’t work, so I carried the basket outside to hang the sheets on the clothesline I’d seen the day before.