Reaching into his pocket, he flipped open his pocketknife and started carving the other side while she watched, fascinated. As he carved, he talked. “I found this the day I walked into the saloon and saw you for the first time. You were standin’ behind the bar, that fire-red hair blazin’ in the morning sun. Prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I took findin’ a rock shaped like a heart as a sign.” He wiped the shavings off the rock.
She lowered her gaze to his chest, but she did it wearing a smile.
When she didn’t speak, he kept talking. “I knew then and there I wanted to get to know you better. A lot better. I’m guessing the Wild River polished it for a decade or two, holdin’ on to it until you made your way to Wilder.”
When he finished carving, she traced the lines with one fingertip. “It’s beautiful.”
He pressed it into her palm and folded her fingers over it. “This is your Promise Pebble, little fox. When the shadows get too big, you squeeze this three times. I’ll know you need me, and you’ll know Daddy’s coming. No matter the hour. No matter the storm. I will always come for you.”
Her eyes went glassy. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
She squeezed the rock once. “Like this?”
“Three times, babygirl.”
She did as she was told, squeezing three times.
He kissed her knuckles. “Good girl.”
Still holding the rock, she brought her hand to her chest and held it over her heart. “I like the wall,” she whispered. “The texting thing. I always thought rules were cages, but yours feel… safe.”
“They’re supposed to.” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “What scared your brain tonight, little fox?”
“That you’d get tired of the broken parts.”
“How do we fix it together?”
She thought, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Maybe… maybe a code word? If I wake up panicking, I say ‘river’ and you wake up and hold me till it passes?”
“Done. And you text me every time you leave a building. Even if it’s just to the barn. Even if I’m standing ten feet away.”
She nodded, solemn. “I promise.”
“Are you ready to talk to Daddy about what happened?”
She stiffened in his arms. “What happened when?”
Good question. “Let’s start with tonight. When you said the shadows got too loud, what did you mean?”
She tried to look away, but he needed focus. “Eyes on me, Foxy.” She wouldn’t out and out lie to him, but she could hide things from him when she wasn’t looking at him.
She gave him back those incredible eyes. The scowl on her face could be from his words or the fact she obeyed him withouthesitation. Either way, she held his gaze. What a brave Little girl she was.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Try again.” He wanted to laugh when her scowl deepened, but he managed to hold himself in check.
She didn’t say anything, but Trace was patient. When she realized he wasn’t going to give in, she said, “It’s hard at night. When I’m alone. The shadows get bigger, like they’re chasing me. I needed to get away. But when I made it outside, I couldn’t make myself call for a ride. The light was on in the barn, so I went out there to think and wound up drawing my exit plan.”
Since the only Uber driver in Wilder was Buzzard, a.k.a. Harold Greene, he was glad she’d changed her plan. Buzzard couldn’t drive from his house to the shed in his backyard without getting lost. He had the worst sense of direction Trace had ever seen.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Sorrow and hopelessness darkened her expression. “I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do. I wouldn’t want you to try because then they’d try to hurt you or someone else here. I know you don’t believe me, but the best thing you can do is let me go.”
That was never going to happen. Shifting her to straddle him, he grasped her chin with gentle force, bringing her gaze to his. "I don't know who’s after you, Foxy, but I do know whoever they are, they won’t stop bothering you unless someone makes them. I can be that someone, if you’ll tell me what’s going on."
