We sat on the edge of the bed with our knees touching. I kept my voice low and even. “Sheriff Williams texted Jacob. Your ex tried to get passed the officers closing the roads to head up the mountain.”
The color drained from her cheeks. For a heartbeat I thought she’d fold. She didn’t. She lifted her chin, and my chest hurt with how damn proud that made me.
“He won’t stop,” she said.
“No,” I agreed. “But he won’t get to you.” I held her gaze. “I need anything you have on him What truck he drives. Plate if you know it. Any habits. Friends who’d help him. I’m not asking to dig into your pain. I’m asking to build a fence he can’t climb.”
Her breath shuddered out. “Chad Murray. Black F-150. He changes plates so I have no idea. He’s… charming when he wants to be. His uncle works at the tow yard outside town. He knows back roads. I… I don’t know. He’s… he’s just trying to punish me.”
That was the truck described in the text from the sheriff. Rage hissed in my ears. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” I said. “You did good. Thank you.”
I texted the details to Jacob on the network we didn’t talk about on paper.
Sara watched me. “What now?”
“Now,” I said, “we keep you close. Storm breaks in the morning. We’ll take a rig down, tow your car. You don’t show your face in town until we say. We’ll loop Lily or Sam in to get you clothes and whatever you need.” I paused. “And we decide what you want after that.”
Her throat worked. “What I want?”
I didn’t touch her. I let the space be honest. “You can go to family. You can file a report and let us stand behind you. You can stay here awhile. You can walk into my room and not walk back out until spring. I’m not putting a leash on you.” My mouth twitched. “Just a perimeter.”
That got the smallest huff of a laugh out of her. She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t have family that’s… safe.” She sighed. “I don’t want to run anymore.”
“Then don’t,” I said simply.
She went quiet. The storm thudded along the roof, slower now, like it was finally getting tired.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Dice?” Rook’s voice, careful. “Flapjack brought food. And, uh, Lily sent a bag for Sara.”
I opened the door. Rook stood there with a canvas tote and the posture of a man who knew to keep his eyes politely at the floor. “Thanks,” I said.
He nodded. “If you need someone on the generator in the middle of the night, I’m up.”
“Appreciate it.” I shut the door and handed the tote to Sara. She peeked inside. Leggings, socks, a thick sweater, hair ties, a note in Lily’s looping script.You’re safe. —L
Her eyes glassed over. She blinked hard and nodded. “I’ll change.”
I turned my back to give her the dignity of space.
She touched my shoulder. I turned. The leggings hugged her legs, but she’d kept my hoodie on. I couldn’t help but feel a bit territorial about that.
“I want to come,” she said. “To the car.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” A steady breath. “I’m done letting other people clean up my messes. I’m not a mess.” Her mouth flattened. “He is.”
“Yeah,” I said, voice gone low. “He is.”
We ate in the kitchen while the guys continued their game. Rook dared to get close and set a mug of tea by Sara’s elbow, though he didn’t look at her, like eye contact might crowd her. Good.
After, I walked her back to my room. She hesitated inside the door, looking at the dice tower on my nightstand, the little painted dragon on my dresser like it was a secret only she got to see.
“Why ‘Dice’?” she asked, a real question this time, not a joke.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a single, worn D20 die, rolling it across my fingers with the same ease I had roping cattle.
“I like Dungeons & Dragons,” I admitted, completely unapologetic. “The guys figured it out and never let me live it down.”
