Of course, she knew he was capable of violence. He’d flat-out told her early on in their pen pal relationship that he was in prison for killing a man, and even though he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone in that instance, hehadbeen trained by the military to kill. He was a dangerous man.
And what did it say about her that she wasn’t afraid of him?
Any rational woman probably would’ve stopped writing when he first admitted that to her. But something in her had recognized that the violence in him wasn’t dangerous to her. Maybe it was because she had grown up in the foster system where she’d learned to read people’s intentions. Maybe it was because she’d spent her adult life navigating construction sites full of men who didn’t think she belonged there. Or maybe it was simply because she trusted her gut.
“I know you would,” she said softly.
He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time since last night’s kiss. A question lingered there, one he couldn’t seem to voice.
“I’m not afraid of you, Anson. I never have been.”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “Maybe you should be.”
“Why? Because you’ve hurt people? Because you could?” She stepped closer, challenging him. “Everyone’s capable of violence when pushed far enough. Even me.”
His eyebrows rose slightly at that, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up a bottle and held it out. “Kittens need feeding.”
Right. Back to safer territory.
She took the bottle and settled on the floor next to the kitten box, lifting Ember out first. Now that she’d seen Princess, she could tell Ember was a tiny replica of her mother. It still took some coaxing to get the tiny girl to latch onto the bottle, but once she did, she drank with enthusiasm, her paws clamped around Maggie’s hand as if to keep the bottle close.
“She’s getting stronger.”
“Yeah.” Anson didn’t glance her way as he picked up Spark. The orange kitten all but attacked the bottle, making hungry mewing sounds as he ate.
“Did Lila say when they should start weaning?”
“Next week we can start mixing wet food with the formula.”
The stilted conversation made her want to scream. This man had written her letters for years, had poured his soul onto paper, had kissed her like she was oxygen and he was drowning.
Now he could barely look at her.
They worked in silence for several minutes, the only sounds the soft suckling of the kittens and Bramble’s occasional snuffle as he supervised.
“I want to help at Haven House,” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could arrange them into something more careful. “Teaching carpentry. To the women there.”
Anson fumbled Spark’s bottle, and the kitten protested with a drawn-out cry. He replaced the bottle in Spark’s mouth, his face carefully neutral, but she caught the flicker of concern in his eyes before he shuttered them.
“The girls and I were talking about it last night, and Nessie suggested a work program to teach skills the women could use when they’re on their own.” The words spilled out faster as she gained momentum. “I could show them basic construction, furniture repair, how to use tools. Things that could lead to jobs or just save them money on home repairs. Naomi’s setting up a meeting with Hollis—she runs the place—and I just...” She trailed off, suddenly uncertain in the face of his stony silence.
“You sure?” he asked, setting the empty bottle aside and replacing Spark in the box. “About going into town regular?”
No, she wasn’t sure. Not with Landry potentially out there, not with the creeping fear that had driven her to Montana in the first place.
“I think I need to,” she said softly. “It feels right. Like something I should do.”
He was quiet so long she thought he might not respond. “The more often you leave, the more chance someone will recognize you. When they do, word will spread, and Landry will be able to find you if he’s determined enough.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “But I can’t stay here forever.”
His jaw tightened at that, but he said nothing.
“And I can’t let fear stop me from doing good work. I’ve spent years looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows. Hell, I ran to the other side of the planet for eight months, and it didn’t help. If I just hide away, Landry wins. I won’t live like that anymore. I won’t let him win.”
Anson was quiet for a long time as he picked up Smoke and fit the bottle to the kitten’s mouth.
“If you’re doing this,” he said finally, “you don’t go alone. Ever.” He met her eyes. “One of the guys drives you, waits outside. No exceptions.”
