He hesitated, then shook his head. “Need to stay here with Princess. Make sure she’s comfortable.”
Of course. Always an excuse to keep his distance, even as he tried to close it.
“Rain check, then,” she said, trying to keep disappointment from her voice. “I’ll see you when I get back from Haven House.”
Anson nodded, already turning back to Princess’s enclosure. “Be careful.”
Two simple words, but she heard all the worry beneath them. The fear he couldn’t quite voice. She wanted to go to him, to press herself against his broad back, to promise him she’d always come back. Instead, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
The walk to her cabin gave her time to think. Was she being reckless? Maybe. But staying locked away in fear wasn’t living. She’d done that for too long already.
By the time she’d showered and changed, the morning had warmed slightly. She found Boone waiting by his truck, arms crossed over his massive chest, his navy blue eyes shadowed under the brim of his Stetson. He tipped his hat as she approached.
“Mornin’. Anson said you need a ride to Haven House.”
“Yes. Thank you for doing this.”
Boone opened the passenger door for her. “No problem.”
His truck was immaculate inside, not a speck of dust on the dashboard. He climbed in beside her, his large frame making the cab feel suddenly smaller.
“Did Anson explain why I need a babysitter?” she asked as they pulled out of the ranch.
“Ma’am, I don’t babysit.” Boone’s eyes remained fixed on the road, but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “He said you have a stalker. Ex-boyfriend who doesn’t understand boundaries.”
“Ex-co-host. Our personal relationship was so short and ill-advised, I don’t count it. But, yes, he’s been following me for years. Since I refused to take him back, he’s been... escalating.”
Boone nodded, his face giving nothing away. “Anson mentioned the cat. You think that was him?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, watching the trees flash by outside the window. “It seems crazy that he’d follow me all the way to Montana just to hurt a cat. But I can’t shake the feeling... I mean, Princess disappeared around the same time I showed up here.”
“Nothing crazy about obsession,” Boone said quietly. “Makes people do things that don’t make sense to anyone else.”
Something in his tone made her glance over. His knuckles had whitened on the steering wheel, jaw tight beneath his beard. This wasn’t just professional concern.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, “My mother. She’s… not well and lives in a long-term care psychiatric facility. She’s not usually violent, but when she gets an idea in her head…” He trailed off and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles flexing. “Let’s just say I understand what it’s like when someone who should love you becomes a threat instead.”
Maggie nodded, her throat tight. The words hit close to home. Landry had seemed so charming at first, so supportive. She’d believed he cared about her, wanted to help her career.By the time she realized his “support” was just another form of control, she was already trapped in his web.
“How did you handle it?”
Boone sighed, the sound heavy with years of weight. “Truth be told, I didn’t for a long time. I ran from it, hid from it, but it didn’t make the problem any less of a problem. Then I found people worth trusting—Walker, Jo—and they helped.” He glanced at her briefly. “Anson’s worth trusting.”
She shifted her gaze to the window. “I know he is.”
The problem was that he didn’t trust himself.
But she didn’t say that out loud.
seventeen
The large yellow Victorian was nothing like the shelters Maggie had seen in her foster years. Those places screamed institutional, all fluorescent lights and linoleum floors that squeaked under your shoes. Haven House felt different. Welcoming. Like someone had wrapped their arms around a broken building and loved it whole again.
A little zing of excitement (or maybe nerves?) chased through Maggie’s belly when she spotted the nearby garage that could very easily be turned into a woodshop.
Naomi and Nessie already stood on the porch, waiting and she fought the urge to scan the street as she slid from Boone’s truck.
