But he was watching.
“Are you really upset with me for being worried about you?” Gio’s tone sounded patient in an almost practiced manner. “You went through something traumatic. The attack. The memory loss. Then you just disappeared and moved to the middle of nowhere.” He glanced around, taking in the property again. “What am I supposed to think?”
She crossed her arms. “That I needed space.”
“Naomi.” He said her name as if he were correcting her. “This isn’t like you.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
Gio’s jaw tightened. “I know you well enough to know you’re not okay. You’re hiding here instead of dealing with what happened. Instead of getting real help. Instead of coming back to your actual life.”
“Thisismy actual life.” Naomi’s chin lifted. “Blue Ridge Hollow is where I need to be.”
“This is just an illusion, a place you ran to in order to avoid the truth—that your life fell apart.”
Naomi remained quiet a beat.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but harder. “You don’t know anything about my life here. You don’t know what this place means or what I’ve built. And honestly, Gio?” She shook her head. “You don’t have the right to know anymore.”
Something flickered across Gio’s face. He wasn’t used to being spoken to that way.
Micah saw the man’s slight recalibration as he tried to decide which angle to try next.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Naomi said. “I didn’t invite you. I don’t want this conversation. And I think it would be best if you left.”
Gio opened his mouth.
Micah stepped forward.
Not aggressively. Not with his hand on his weapon or his voice raised. He simply moved to stand behind Naomi, close enough that there was no question about whose side he was on.
Gio’s eyes cut to him. He took in Micah’s uniform. His badge. The fact that Micah had a few inches and considerable composure on him.
“The lady asked you to leave.” Micah’s voice almost sounded conversational. “I’d take that seriously.”
Gio stared at Naomi, various emotions moving through his expression. Finally, he stepped back.
“Fine.” He smoothed the front of his jacket like he was composing himself. “I won’t push.”
He descended the porch steps slowly, almost as if the retreat was his own idea.
At the bottom, he paused and looked back at Naomi. “I just hope you remember what’s important before it’s too late to act on it.”
He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned, walked to his car, and got in.
Micah watched until the taillights disappeared down the driveway. Until the gate swung closed behind him.
Then he let out a slow breath.
“You okay?” he asked without looking at Naomi.
“Yes.” A beat. “No.” Another beat. “I don’t know.”
Micah nodded. That was honest, at least.
He turned to look at her then—at the set of her jaw, at the way she stared at the gate as if making sure Gio was really gone.
He had questions. A lot of them. About Gio, about New York, about what exactly that man had meant by what he’d said.
But they could wait. Naomi’s emotional state was more important than him finding answers.
