I stand there in the quiet kitchen, breathing through the heavy pressure building in my chest.
So that’s what today was.
Not a bad mood. Not a random panic.
Something found her.
Someone.
And she didn’t tell us…
I stare into the dark, listening to the house breathe.
I don’t know what the hell is going on.
But I know this: if someone is trying to drag her back into a story that hurt her, they’re going to have to get through us.
And I’m not in the habit of letting anything I care about get taken.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Delaney
Morning comes too fast.
Not gently. Not with the soft, forgiving light I’ve started to associate with the ranch. It comes sharp and invasive, dragging me out of sleep like it has somewhere important to put me and no patience for hesitation.
For a few blessed seconds, I don’t remember.
I’m warm. There’s a blanket tucked around me that I don’t recognize as mine. The mattress is firm, it smells faintly of pine and coffee, and something baked from last night. My body feels heavy in that good way. I slept hard and deep.
Someone got my boots off. Someone pulled the blanket up. I don’t remember it happening, which somehow makes my throat tighten.
Then my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
And everything comes rushing back.
Marcus.
The café. His voice saying my name like it still belongs to him. The way my chest locked up when I realized he hadn’t just found me, he’d followed me.
I sit up too quickly, the room tilting as panic slams into me full force. My heart starts racing before I even touch the phone. It knows what’s waiting.
The screen lights up.
Messages. Too many of them.
I don’t open them at first. I just stare at the lock screen, at the stack of notifications piled one on top of the other like accusations.
My hands are shaking.
I swipe anyway.
The first one is from yesterday, sent not long after I ran.
Marcus: I hate how that ended. You didn’t let me explain.
Another.
