I went out to the barn, telling myself it was to check on the horses, but the truth was I needed the cold air and space. The snow had thickened, turning the yard into a blur. The wind hissed against the siding. Inside the barn, the horses were quiet, shifting in their stalls, steam rising off their backs. I checked the waterers and the heaters, ran a hand down Lady’s neck, and tried to shake off the feeling that something was pressing in from all sides.
When I came back to the house, Kristin was still on the couch, legs tucked under her, laptop open. Her hair caught the glow from the screen, turning it almost copper. She looked up when I walked in.
“Everything good out there?”
“Yeah,” I said, kicking my boots off. “Quiet.”
“Good.” She went back to typing.
I dropped into the chair opposite her. “What are you working on?”
“Inventory,” she said. “A couple of invoices from last week are missing. It’s probably nothing, but I want to be sure.”
“You think it ties to that guy from the store?”
She hesitated. “Could be coincidence.”
“Could be something else.”
Her eyes lifted, sharp and annoyed. “You always think it’s something else.”
“Because it usually is.”
She closed the laptop harder than necessary. “You think you can fix everything with your fists and a few threats. It does not work like that anymore.”
“Worked fine before.”
“Until it didn’t.”
That shut me up. The silence that followed was heavy. I leaned back, watching the flames through the glass of the stove door. The sound of the fire eating through the logs filled the space between us.
“I am not trying to control you,” I said finally. “I just do not like the thought of someone watching your place. That man wasn’t there to buy tack. He was there to look around.”
Her voice dropped. “I know.”
That admission landed hard. I turned to look at her and saw that she was no longer angry, just tired. “Then you know I am not imagining the worst-case scenario here.”
“I know,” she repeated softly. “But we can’t live like every shadow is a threat.”
“I can if it keeps you safe.”
She let out a slow breath. “You can’t keep me safe from everything, Lincoln. You tried before. Look how that turned out.”
That one hurt more than I wanted to admit. I stood, restless, and moved to the window. Outside, the snow was thick enough now that I could barely see the barn lights. “You should get some rest,” I said.
“So should you.”
“I will after I make sure the doors are locked.”
Her laugh was small but real. “You really don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“Not anymore, not when your safety is in my hands.”
She looked at me for a long time, then said quietly, “You can’t keep living like that.”
I didn’t answer; instead, I checked the locks and turned off the downstairs lights one by one. She shut her laptop and headed for the stairs.
“Goodnight, Linc.”
