From her backpack, Willow retrieved a packet and slid it over to her. “In there, you’ll find a notebook, pen, and a devotional. All are optional.” She laughed. “However, I’d really encourage you to start dream-building. Think about your future, your career, school, whatever. Where you’d like to live, what you’d like to do, own, be. This is your time to dream and plan. When we talk next time, we’ll do what we can do to start the process of helping you realize them.”
Brighton looked at the packet. “I … I just thought with them still out there and me … hiding …” She squinted at her. “Isn’t this a bit premature?”
Willow’s heart broke for her, giving the enemy, her captor, the power over her future. And for once in this whole crazy mess, she was glad Brighton was here with Stone. “First, I know my brother is not going to let anything happen to you. But more importantly, we need to put the power over your future back in your hands.”
With a slow nod, Brighton pressed the packet to her chest. “When will you be back?”
“Once Cord sends me your placement.”
Deflating, she seemed to clutch that packet tighter. “Tomorrow? I thought?—”
“Ah.” Willow cringed. “No, sorry. I know that was the plan, but Cord is tied up on the other side of the world.” Thinking through how much longer this would take, Willow couldn’t help but wonder if it was a mistake to leave Brighton here. The girl was fragile, though she didn’t want anyone thinking that, and Stone was … Stone. “You’ll probably be here another week or two.”
Brighton’s lips parted, her gaze wandering to the windows. “He’s going to be mad.”
Definitely need to kill my brother.
Tomorrow. He’s coming for her tomorrow.
Something twisted in Stone’s gut.
No. It was better this way. Especially since his nerves hadn’t stopped buzzing since the incident in town. And he didn’t mean the kiss in Groce’s. Or the near-kiss at the truck??—witnessed by Willow.
Two in one day. He was getting too comfortable around Brighton. Too familiar.
God, get her out of here before I do something stupid … again.
More often than not, God didn’t outright remove temptation or a problem. Instead, He provided opportunities for escape. So, where was his exit? Dad said it was always there, if we were willing to look for it.
Willing? I’m desperate!
He needed an exfil strategy. Now. This???—him and her???—couldn’t happen.
Why not? He wasn’t a governor anymore and she wasn’t an escort anymore.
But she had been one, being paid for sexual favors. The thought infuriated and disgusted him. He hated himself for wondering how many she had been with.
What about you?
He hadn’t been with anyone!
Yet … something reverberated against his conscience. His gaze fell on his desk.
No, not his desk. His planner.
All his plans. Lists.
He hadn’t been with anyone except Marie, but he’d made his planner his lover. Iron-grip control on what happened in his life to the point nothing was as important. By planning, keeping people and love at bay … he made sure he wasn’t betrayed. And yet … he had been. Dad. Marie. Brighton.
But doing this … keeping the plans, the lists was smart. Right? He who fails to plan??—
“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
The chastisement rippled through him. He hadn’t planned for Brighton to be here. Hated that she was.
No, he didn’t hate it. He’d been so adamant about avoiding her, cutting her out of his life??—the scandal necessitated that?—but hearing her laugh … seeing how she fit into his life and arms like his Glock in its holster … So perfect. So molded to his life and heart.
Could it work?
