With each new detail, her muscles tightened.
People with the local government were questioning what this place really was?
That meant the shelter might be at risk—all because of bureaucracy.
It sounded like a case Garrick would take on if the county came to him for help. He’d always had money in his eyes—wealth and image were the most important things to him. Definitely more important than morals or causes.
Millie stepped away from the window before anyone noticed her. Her pulse ticked faster as she moved down the hall.
She’d come here because she needed somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet. A place where she could stop looking over her shoulder.
She hadn’t thought much about what it took to keep a place like this running.
Or how careful everyone had to be. How many decisions had to be weighed. How one wrong move could affect more than one person.
Her chest tightened.
What if she’d just added to the trouble here by doing that internet search? How would she forgive herself if she did?
Caleb breathed in and out until the knot in his chest eased a notch.
Wyatt’s words still pressed hard as he rode the riding lawn mower across the front yard. Soon, he wouldn’t have to do this. But he still had a couple more cuts this season before the cold air invaded and he could call it quits.
His thoughts continued to churn as he turned the mower and made another pass.
They needed more help here. That much was obvious.
More hands meant fewer gaps, fewer long nights where one person covered too much ground.
But more people also meant more possible exposure. More chances for someone to say the wrong thing to the wrong person.
They needed money too. Cameras. Reinforced gates. Better lighting.
That kind of infrastructure came at a price. Donors liked success stories. They liked numbers. They liked seeing where their money went.
Plus, if the county kept asking questions . . .
Caleb exhaled through his nose and kept cutting the grass.
Running this shelter hadn’t been part of his long-term plan. Just as Millie had reminded him, he’d wanted to be career military. Had wanted to advance up the ranks. Be the hero behind the scenes.
Then Sarah had been killed.
The thought landed the same way it always did—hard and abrupt, like he stepped off a curb he hadn’t seen coming.
When Richard had become violent, Sarah hadn’t needed grand gestures.
She’d needed options. Somewhere to go. Somewhere she could take the animals she loved without choosing between safety and abandonment.
Richard had taken advantage of that gap, of how trapped she’d felt. Of how alone.
Caleb’s jaw tightened as he turned to make another line across the grass.
Someone had to build what hadn’t existed for her. Someone had to make sure other women didn’t run out of time or options.
After Sarah’s death, Caleb knew he couldn’t simply move on and resume life. Not after what had happened.
He needed to do something in her honor.
