"Mistakes?"
"I hadn't told you the whole story before. The story with Garrison's ex-wife."
Her sharp intake of breath hurt him more than getting stabbed with a knife.
"You already mentioned that. How come you don't know for sure if you cheated?" she asked.
He folded a hand into a fist on his knee. "I, uh, had some serious problems with alcohol in the past." The words burned sharper than a swig of whiskey.
"Okay."
Swallowing, he said, "The alcohol... it really messed my life up for years. Messed everything up for other people, too. Tommy Brand has booked me in jail for alcohol-related charges more times than I can remember. I've made bad mistakes. That night with Garrison's wife, I was completely shit-faced. All I know is that we woke up together and... she had pictures that she was going to use to blackmail me."
"What did you do?" Mariah's words puffed out a cloud of cold vapor, and she stared at her gloved hands.
"Turned coward and ran." Kneeing his restless horse back to Mariah, he continued, "In some ways, it was a good decision to leave. I got sober—still am. I ran away from the responsibility of the ranch, not that I was really carrying my own weight. Then the MMA took off and, well, it probably saved my life. In New York, I had no past to explain. I now have a financial career that has started to grow."
"That's a hell of a story."
"The worst part? I was so involved in building my new life, far away from the wide spot in the road that is Copper River that I wasn't here when my family needed me. When Dad had his stroke, I wasn't here. I wasn't here when Garrison's son and girlfriend got kidnapped. I wasn't here to protect Shelby when she got hurt."
"How are these things your fault?"
"I'm the oldest brother. It's always my job to protect them."
"Okay, like how I should have protected my brother back in Utah, and how I failed?"
"How could you have prevented that?"
"Exactly. Now you understand why those things are not your fault." She drew in a lungful of air. "No question, you made some mistakes."
He flinched. The neutral tone hurt more than if she called him a bastard for what he'd done.
"And you should have told me about your past before we..."
"Yeah. I know."
"But the things with your family? Not your fault. The thing with your head? You didn't cause that to happen." She glanced to the sky as a tiny flake melted on her pink nose. "So. Let's see if I have the gist of things. You have psychic powers. Okay, that's weird and I don't understand it. The powers are changing and that scares you. Somehow I'm making it worse." Pursing her lips, she said, "So far so good?"
"Yes," he said miserably.
"And you need to take ownership of the mistakes you've made in the past. And let go of the things that aren't your fault." She pinned him with a bold, emerald stare. "That about it?"
"Sort of."
"Wait. There's more?"
He groaned to himself. He had to tell the whole truth. "The Brand family has it in for the Taggarts. Despite anything we do, this damned feud isn't going to stop."
"You mentioned that before. What's that have to do with you and me?"
"I don't want you caught in the crossfire. They have threatened anyone we... care about."
"Anything else I should know?" Spoken like she had already made her decision but wanted to give him more rope to hang himself with, or throw a few more loops on the noose.
"One more." He grabbed his head and curled forward. "Holy fuck." All around him, sound splintered into pieces.
His power flared into overdrive, shoving itself into a protective bubble around Mariah. She flinched and pulled back. The power came on too fast, too strong. He needed to get her away from here. His head was splitting. Too much power. Too much fear. What the hell?
"What is—Oh my God, what's that?" she whispered.
