Always.
Rylie’s voice came out behind me, barely above a whisper. “Trigger?”
“Yeah.”
“If Thomas… if he comes to town and realizes I’m gone…”
I turned my head enough to see her. Her eyes were shining, but she wasn’t crying. Not yet.
“He’ll lose it,” I said honestly.
Her throat bobbed. “And my dad?”
“He’ll protect the town,” I said. “He’s the sheriff.”
“And you?”
I stood slowly and faced her fully.
The firelight painted her face warm, softening the edges of her fear. It made her look younger. Made her look like someone who should be worried about dress fittings and flowers and a future that didn’t include running in the dark.
“I’m protecting you,” I said.
Her lips trembled, just slightly. “Why?”
The question wasn’t accusatory.
It was broken.
Like she didn’t understand why anyone would choose her when choosing her came with danger.
I took one step closer, then stopped. Not touching her. Not crowding her.
“Because you don’t belong to him,” I said.
Rylie’s breath hitched.
“And because,” I added, quieter, “I’m not letting him take you.”
A long silence filled the room.
Then Rylie whispered, “I never planned to marry him.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know how I would get out of it, but I knew I wasn’t going to marry him..”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Her eyes squeezed shut for a second, and when she opened them, that shine had turned to something else—something steadier.
Trust.
“Okay,” she said.
One word.
But it sounded like surrender.
