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heart.
    Sighing, he reached up and laid a hand on her arm, squeezed gently. “Brody Jennings.”
    “What about him?” She pressed her lips to his cheek. “He’s just a sad, messed-up kid, Slick.”
    Ezra grimaced. A sad, messed-up kid. Yeah, that described Brody Jennings, all right. Except the sad, messed-up kid’s behavior was kind of escalating. All over the place. Looking down at the gold cross, he studied it. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same one.
    “I saw him in town, the day Law got back to town,” he said softly. “When you and Hope were walking around the square. Remy was there with him—wanted to talk to me. Said he’d make sure Brody came out when I was ready, help me repair some of the damage the kid had done out at my place.”
    He scrubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Shit. The damage. A few trashed flower beds are the least of the problems, now, huh? Unless the kid’s got a contractor’s license, he’s not going to be much use out there.”
    The house he’d inherited from his grandmother was trashed, thanks to the fire, and he hadn’t been able to salvage much of anything. What hadn’t been destroyed by the flames had been destroyed by smoke or water.
    Lena tightened her arms. “Ezra, what’s your point here? I’m not following.”
    “He had a necklace on. A gold cross.” Rubbing his finger across the delicately etched surface, he stared off into the distance.
    “It was his mother’s.” Lena rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I remember Remy mentioning it. It’s like the one thing he still … how did he put it … I dunno, but when Remy sees him wearing it, it’s like he still has hope. Still thinks the kid isn’t too far gone.”
    Early morning light shone through the window, danced off the small bit of gold. So small.
    How in the hell could it weigh so much? Be such a burden?
    “The kid might be gone farther than he thinks, beautiful,” Ezra said, his voice gruff. “I found that cross. It was out by my house the night it caught on fire.”
    Lena trailed her hand down his arm.
    When her fingers touched the cross, a soft, sad sigh escaped her. She rested her head on his shoulder. But she didn’t say anything.
    His dad had already left.
    Brody waited, just to be certain, before he slipped out. He had to air up his tires before he could go anywhere—thanks to Uncle Remy, Dad had taken his four-wheeler away and Brody wasn’t about to walk.
    Too far away.
    Setting off across the fields, he focused on anything and everything but what he’d done.
    Or at least he tried.
    It was really, really hard to think about anything else.
    He needed to tell somebody … his dad was out of the question. Maybe Uncle Remy. Maybe the sheriff … shit, screw that. But … hell. Who could he tell? He hadn’t
meant
to do it.
    Wasn’t like anybody had gotten hurt.
    King had sure as hell landed on his feet—shacking up with Lena Riddle, of all people. The woman had legs that went for miles. Brody didn’t know why in the hell his uncle had broken things off with her. If
he
had a girl like that …?
    Easier to think about her, wonder about what it might be like to make it with her than to think about the fire.
    The flames.
    So hot, so fucking hot.
    If he’d stopped, for five damn seconds, to think … and shit, how was he supposed to know the place would burn like that?
    The place had been old.
    That’s what the word around town was. Old places like that? They burned fast.
    But how in the hell was Brody to know that?
    Nobody had gotten hurt. Nobody had even been there.
    And as long as he hadn’t lost his mom’s necklace there, nobody had to know it was him, either.
    He just had to find that necklace.
    Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. Wasn’t going to cry over it. It would turn up. Always did. The chain was old. He kept meaning to get a new one, but they weren’t cheap and he hated asking his dad for anything.
    It was the necklace, though,