Naomi’s jaw tightened, but she still didn’t speak.
Dale stepped back toward his truck, hands sliding back into his pockets. “Well, I won’t keep you.” He opened the driver’s door and paused, glancing back at the property one more time. “Beautiful place. Sarah and Richard really did something special here.”
Micah’s hand curled into a fist at his side. The man knew what Richard had done to Sarah, and he was acting as if nothing violent had happened between them. As if they’d had a healthy, loving marriage.
He had a lot of nerve.
Dale climbed into the truck, started the engine, and pulled away from the gate. He rolled slowly down the road and disappeared around the curve.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Caleb exhaled, slow and controlled. “Well . . . that was something.”
Micah stared at the empty road, his mind already reviewing everything Dale had said—and everything he hadn’t.
The man hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t threatened. Hadn’t raised his voice or demanded anything.
But he’d made his presence known.
And that was the point.
Naomi’s voice broke the silence, quiet and tight. “He’s not getting near her.”
Micah turned to look at her. Her arms were still crossed, her shoulders rigid, her eyes fixed on the spot where Dale’s truck had been.
“No,” Micah said. “He’s not.”
But even as he said it, he knew keeping him away wouldn’t be that simple.
Dale Harding had just made his opening move.
