Skye looked confused, her eyes bouncing between Ash and me.
August shifted like he might cut in, but before he could say anything, another knock thudded against the door.
Three measured raps.
“Detective Whize,” came the voice from outside.
Skye blinked and moved to answer, but I was already on my feet, blood simmering beneath my skin.
The arrival of Whize dissipated some of the tension. We walked the detective through everything—where we’d found the cameras, what we’d traced so far. He took notes, took the devices, and said he’d keep us updated.
As soon as he left, the weight of it all came crashing down.
Skye sat on the couch, foot bouncing as she started to pick at her skin, and then stopped. She’d done so several times today, but always managed to catch herself.
I lowered down next to her. Every part of me wanted to reach for her, to grab her hand, but I didn’t know if she wanted that. I wanted to respect her space because she wasn’t going to like what I said next.
“This place isn’t safe anymore,” I said quietly. “I don’t want you staying here. Not even with me.”
She looked up at me. For once, there was no stubbornness. No fire. There was just exhaustion, and agreement.
“I don’t want to stay here either,” she whispered.
Ash stepped forward. “You can come stay with me. There’s plenty of room at the house.”
Skye’s lips parted, then closed. Pain flickered across her face. “I can’t.”
Ash frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s not you,” she said quickly. “I just…I can’t be in that house.”
He studied her for a beat, then nodded. “I understand.”
I cleared my throat. “You can stay at the bed-and-breakfast. My parents always have a room open.”
“I was trying to avoid that.” She sighed.
“I know.”
She hesitated for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. “Fine.”
Relief surged through me, quick and fierce, but it was tangled up with something else. Frustration. The sheer helplessness of knowing that someone had violated her space, and now she had to leave against her desire.
At least she’d be safe at Mom and Dad’s. Whether she liked being there or not, she’d be protected. I’d make damn sure of it.
25
Skye
Istoodontheporch,suitcase gripped tightly in one hand, the other curled in a fist against my side. The old wooden boards creaked under my shoes, like they always had. The Ramsey house was exactly as it had been when I was younger. The smell of rosemary and lemon balm from the little herb planter near the steps tickled my nose. The same wind chimes clinked gently overhead in the breeze.
The same front door stood before me. The one that used to fly open before I even knocked, back when I belonged here.
Raleigh might welcome me with open arms, but it still felt like I stood on the edge of something fragile. What would the rest of the family think of me? August and Graham seemed okay with me, but I wouldn’t blame any one of them for hating me.
Fox stood beside me, close enough that the heat from his body softened the autumn chill. I’d barely said a word on the ride over, and he hadn’t pushed. But now, as I stared at the door, he turned toward me.
Reaching up, he brushed a loose piece of hair back from my face. His knuckles were rough, but his touch was painfully gentle. When I didn’t pull away, he tilted my chin until I met his eyes.
