Owen looks at us, totally freaked out.
“Never happening, bud. You hear me?” I tell him. “You did good.”
He nods but still wears a terrified expression. “I never want to live with Sully.”
“We’re calling Weston,” I say. “And the sheriff. He can’t make threats like that.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t have the money for a lawyer.”
“This is important,” I say. “We’re doing this. I’ll set it up.”
I look at both of them. “Nothing is going to happen to either of you when I’m around.”
I’ll make damn sure of it.
The second I heard Sully make that threat, the way his voice dropped and turned ugly, something in me went cold andsharp. I don’t take chances with the people I love. Because saying something like that is halfway to doing something like that.
Hell no.
Owen hands me his phone, his fingers shaking. “I recorded it,” he says quietly. “Just in case he said something really bad.”
My chest tightens when I hit play. Sully’s voice crackles through the speaker, slurred and threatening and way too sure of himself. Every word is another nail in the coffin he’s digging for himself. Weston is going to be glad he got this.
“You did good,” I remind Owen, keeping my voice steady even though I’m so angry at Sully and his trash friends. “Really good.”
Poppy looks pale, eyes bright with that barely holding it together look I know too well.
“I’m staying with you guys tonight,” I say, already heading to grab my things. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t argue. She just nods, relief washing over her face like she’s been bracing for someone to tell her she’s overreacting.
Sully’s gone way too far.
Owen’s already in bed when things finally settle. The house is quiet like everyone’s holding their breath. Poppy moves through the kitchen on autopilot, locking the back door, turning off lights. I trail behind her, not crowding, just close enough to be there.
She pauses at the sink, toothbrush in hand, then glances at me. “You don’t have to stay,” she says softly.
“I know,” I tell her. “I’m staying anyway.”
Something in her shoulders loosens at that. The weight of the world seems to lift some and damn I want that for her. I want to take that from her. The stress of the world.
We brush our teeth side by side at the bathroom sink,bumping elbows now and then. It’s domestic and strange and way more intimate than it should be. She makes a face at the minty foam, and I huff out a quiet laugh. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and the moment stretches, warm and familiar.
When she rinses, a strand of hair slips loose from her ponytail and falls across her cheek. Without thinking, I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. My fingers barely graze her skin, but she stills completely.
For a second, neither of us breathe.
“Goodnight,” she whispers, standing in the doorway to her room.
“Goodnight,” I murmur back.
She hesitates, then leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. Soft and careful. It lands like a promise I don’t dare name. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
I take the couch, my boots lined up by the door, my phone on the charger. I don’t sleep much. Every creak of the house has me sitting up, listening, every shadow feeling louder in the dark.
In the early hours, I hear small footsteps pad down the hallway. I sit up just as Owen freezes when he sees me.
“You’re still here,” he whispers.
