A rustle. A muffled exchange. Then my father’s voice, low and controlled.
“Joy,” he said. “Where are you?”
My eyes stung instantly, not from fear exactly, but from the sudden comfort of hearing him steady. “At work. What’s happening?”
“There’s a woman here,” he said. “Claims she has business with you.”
“What kind of business?”
He exhaled through his nose. “The kind that doesn’t belong on my land.”
Sunny barked again—sharp, aggressive. Not his playful bark. Not his hello bark.
My grip tightened on the phone. “What does she look like?”
My father paused. “Mid-sixties, maybe. Dark hair with silver streaks. Dressed like she’s not from around here. Like she’s dressed for a city that doesn’t have mud.”
That description could have been a lot of women.
But my mind still snagged on the memory of the stranger who’d walked into my shop—polished, calm, asking questions she had no right to ask. The way she’d said Micah’s name like she already owned a version of the story I didn’t know.
The unease settled deeper, sharper now.
I swallowed. “Is she threatening you?”
“We’re not letting her inside,” he said. “She’s out by the driveway. Your brothers are here. Your sisters. We’re all here. But she keeps—” His voice hardened. “She keeps saying your name like she’s entitled to it.”
A chill slid down my spine.
“Joy, honey,” he said, softer now, “don’t come out here if you don’t have to.”
I closed my eyes.
Because if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t.
But I did.
I could hear my momma breathing on the other end, the contained panic in it, the instinct to protect her child even though I was grown.
And somewhere under that, another truth rose up—quiet and undeniable.
This was my life now.
Not the safe little loop of shop-to-condo-to-family dinners and predictable days.
This was the world Micah lived in. The world that had already reached into my shop once and now had its fingers on my family’s front gate.
I swallowed again, forcing calm into my voice. “I’m coming.”
“Joy—” Momma started.
“I’m coming,” I repeated. “Do not open the gate. Do not let her on the property. Keep everyone inside the line. Keep Sunny close.”
Sunny was a sweet dog. Loyal. Gentle.
But Sunny would go for blood if he thought one of us was in danger.
I didn’t say that out loud. Momma didn’t need the image.
