“But someone might have deliberately burned down my barn.” Sierra’s voice sounded just angry enough to give her a little staying power. She wasn’t going to curl into a ball and weep. Not yet.
“That’s what we need to determine. Could be an electrical short, could be spontaneous combustion from hay, could be kids with matches, could be someone with a grudge.” Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt you?”
Sierra’s jaw tightened. “More than I thought, apparently.”
“Captain wants me to recommend you stay somewhere else tonight. Hotel, friends, family. Just until we know more.”
“This is my home.” Sierra’s voice dropped to a dangerous quiet. “I’m not leaving.”
“Then you shouldn’t be alone. Anyone you can call?”
“She won’t be alone,” Rowan said quietly beside her. Except not quietly, because the words simply thundered through her, stripped away her words, her breath.
What?
Her mouth opened though, and maybe that was enough for him to round on her.
“I’m staying. Tonight, tomorrow, however long it takes to make sure you and Huck are safe.”
She didn’t ask how he’d learned his son’s name—probably from her screaming it as he ran into the burning barn. “I didn’t ask you to stay.”
“You didn’t ask me to pull your son out of a burning barn either, but I did it anyway.” His eyes met hers in the porch light. “Some things don’t require permission.”
Sam cleared her throat. “So. I’ll leave you folks to sort out the details. Need to get back and help Captain Murphy finish his report.”
She headed down the deck steps toward her truck but paused and turned back. “Sierra? Be careful. If this was arson, whoever did it might not be finished.”
Oh great. And there went any final scraps of argument to tell Superman to Stand. Down.
Apparently, she’d need to make up the guest room.
The truck’s engine started and red taillights disappeared down the gravel driveway. Sierra crossed her arms over her chest. “I need to call my insurance agent tomorrow. Grandpa had coverage, but I don’t know how much.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We?” Hello. “There’s no ‘we’ here, Rowan. You made that clear ten years ago.”
“I…no, Sierra.” He turned to her. “There are reasons I didn’t come back?—”
She held up her hand. “Save them.”
“Really? You’re not going to listen to anything I have to say?”
She’d headed off the porch to survey the damage. “I don’t need to. You made your choice.”
“I was in the military. We didn’t have choices.”
The barn stood like a blackened skeleton against the night sky, the wooden roof beams charred, the ribs of some massive fallen beast. The stone foundation remained intact, but everything above it had been consumed—century-old timber posts reduced to charcoal stumps, the hay loft nothing but empty air, and the smell of smoke that would linger for months.
Rowan stepped up behind her. “Okay, maybe I did make choices. But I’d call them mistakes. Terrible mistakes.”
She closed her eyes. Sighed. “You can’t just walk back into my life and fix everything, Row.”
“Sierra. Someone tried to burn down your barn tonight, and I’m not leaving you and your son to face that alone.”
Words, the terrible words that could dig through her, find root. Oh, she didn’t want to need this man?—
“Mom!” The kitchen door opened, and Huck appeared in the doorway, still clutching Bandit against his chest. The puppy had finally stopped trembling, but Huck’s hair was damp from a quick bath and his face still showed streaks where tears had washed away soot. His pajamas stuck to his body, still wet in places.
