Page 68 of Mack

“He’s mine too.”

“No.” She held his gaze. “You’re not listed on his birth certificate. You made that very clear when you told me to get rid of him. He is not yours.”

He reached across the counter and grabbed her arm, yanking her forward.

“I don’t care what a piece of paper says.”

She wrenched her arm free. “Get out. Right now.”

“I’ll go when I’m ready.” He tilted his head. “Why are you so worked up? I just came to talk.”

“Why now, Troy? After almost four years?”

He shrugged, easy and unhurried, like a man with all the time in the world.

“I was… busy.”

“Busy?” She kept her voice flat. “Your rodeo events don’t run year-round.”

He opened his mouth, but the door chimed and two women stepped inside, stopping just past the threshold when they felt the tension in the room. They looked between Mallory and Troy with matching frowns.

Mallory straightened and put on the friendliest face she had.

“Thank you for stopping in, but I don’t think I have what you’re looking for.” She held Troy’s gaze. “Goodbye.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned slightly forward and dropped his voice so only she could hear.

“I wouldn’t mention this to your boyfriend or your parents if I were you. I know where he lives and I’m not afraid of him.” He looked away, then back to her. “I’d hate for the boy to get hurt. But if that’s what it takes to get you away from that man, I’ll do what I have to do.”

He straightened, smiled that slow certain smile, and walked out. He looked back once through the glass before the door swung shut.

Mallory pressed both hands flat on the counter and breathed.

She took care of the two women. Answered their questions, rang them up, smiled until they left. Then the shop was empty and she sat on the stool, staring at nothing.

He was back. And now he was threatening T.J. Just like in her dreams.

She wasn’t going to tell anyone. Not her parents. Not Mack. She didn’t want fear on the faces of the people she loved, and she didn’t want anyone doing something that made it worse.

She told herself he’d get tired eventually. She knew better. He’d make her life as difficult as he could for as long as he could because that was what he did. He’d show up and threaten and enjoy every minute of it.

She straightened on the stool.

Fine. She’d make it clear she wasn’t afraid of him. That he had no place in her life or her son’s. That she’d stand in the door of her own shop and look him in the eye until he understood she wasn’t the same woman he’d left on the floor.

She wasn’t. She just had to keep believing that.

She went to her office, sat behind her desk, and opened her laptop. She typed his name into the search bar.

Troy Simmons.

Page after page loaded. One stopped her cold.

Troy Simmons, professional bull rider, arrested for vehicular homicide in Butte, Montana, four days after winning the first round in Missoula.

She stared at the screen.

That was right after she left him.