She ducks her chin, swallows hard, and glances away. “Sucks not knowing something so important about your best friend, huh?”
I flinch and glance over to see Emma staring at me expectantly.
“Mrs. Porter,” I reply neutrally. “Nice to see you.” When I glance at Allie to question her statement, she shakes her head once, softly. So I let it go.
“Is it? I wonder, given what your new family has done to this town. To my family.”
I hold her gaze, feeling something harden inside me. “We aren’t your enemy, Mrs. Porter.”
Emma laughs. “You’re a ‘we’ now, huh? Does your father approve of this… relationship?”
“He respects my choices.”
“I’m sure he does. Just as I’m sure your sudden marriage has nothing to do with the fact that Roman Bishop held the mortgage on your father’s church. A mortgage that was suddenly paid right around the time you started wearing that ring.”
The blood drains from my face. Calder didn’t tell me. A tiny voice in the back of my head adds it to the list of things he’s keeping from me.
Before I can respond, Calder appears, his expression thunderous.
“Mrs. Porter,” he says, deceptively calm. “Hope you’re not giving my wife a hard time.”
Emma straightens. “Just a friendly chat, Calder.”
“Didn’t look friendly from where I was standing.”
“We were just leaving anyway,” I say, standing quickly. “Allie, it was good to see you.”
Outside, Calder’s jaw is tight, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing important. Just being her.”
He studies me a moment, then nods. “We should keep wandering, talk to folks.”
As we walk, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every pair of eyes seems to follow us, judging, wondering about the preacher’s daughter who married a Bishop.
I wonder what they’d think if they knew what I did today. If they’d be shocked. Or if they’d understand that in this town, survival sometimes means crossing lines you never thought you would. I glance at Calder, at the bruises forming on his neck, at the way he positions himself between me and potential threats.
He catches me watching him. “What?”
“Nothing.” I thread my fingers through his, a gesture unthinkable a few weeks ago. “Just thinking about how things change.”
His expression softens slightly. He squeezes my hand, then leads me toward the butcher shop and whatever comes next in this dangerous game. Because that’s what survival is in Black Hollow Creek—a game with rules written in blood, played by people who’ve been hurt too much to remember what it was like before the pain.
And I’m learning to play it better than anyone ever expected.
Calder
The truck feels toosmall after leaving town. Saint sits beside me with her hands folded primly in her lap like we’re strangers. The forced normalcy of our act in town—smiling, chatting, and pretending Wayne’s blood isn’t on our hands—leaves us both drained.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Fine.” She doesn’t look at me, just stares out the window at the passing buildings of Black Hollow Creek. “Just need some air that isn’t…”
She doesn’t finish, but I understand. Air that isn’t thick with lies and pretense. Air that doesn’t taste like copper and iron. I make a decision then, one that’s either the smartest or stupidest move I’ve made since bringing her into my life.
“I need to go to Billings. Today.” I say it casually, like it’s just occurred to me. “We could stay overnight.”
That gets her attention. She turns to face me, suspicion written across her features. “Billings? Why?”
