He stares at me for another beat, then turns and walks to a dark sedan parked at the edge of the lot. He gets in, slams the door, and pulls out fast enough to spray gravel.
I watch until his taillights disappear down the mountain road, then pull out my phone and snap a photo of the tire tracks and the direction he went.
When I turn back toward the motel, Ashley is standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself.
I cross to her. "He's gone."
"I saw him," she says quietly. Her voice shakes. “He thinks I belong to him, doesn’t he?”
I cup her face gently. "He's wrong. And he's not coming back."
"You don't know that."
"I do." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "Because I'm filing that order today, and if he violates it, he goes to jail. He knows that now."
She searches my face, looking for certainty.
I give it to her. "You're safe, Ashley. I promise."
She nods, and some of the fear in her eyes eases.
"Come on," I say. "Let's get you out of here."
I help her pack the last of her things, then load them into my cruiser instead of her car. We'll deal with her vehicle later.
When we pull out of the motel parking lot, I reach over and take her hand.
She holds on tight.
Chapter 7
Ashley
Twodayslater,I'msitting in the break room at the police station when the call comes through.
Ross steps out to take it, and I watch through the glass as his expression shifts from neutral to satisfied. When he comes back in, there's something settled in the set of his shoulders.
"The temporary protection order's been approved," he says. "Brandon's been served."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "So that's it?"
"That's it." He sits down across from me. "He comes near you, he goes to jail. Simple as that."
Simple. Nothing about the last three days has felt simple, but maybe that's the point. Ross made it simple by refusing to let it be complicated.
I stare down at my coffee. It's gone cold.
"I've been thinking," I say quietly.
Ross waits, patient as always.
"I don't want to leave," I admit. The words come easier than I expected. "Not today. Not next week. I don't know what comes next, but I know I don't want to keep running."
His hand closes over mine on the table. "Then don't."
I look up at him. "What if Brandon comes back? What if—"
"Then we deal with it," he says. "Together."
