“Because you threw me off balance,” I admit. “From the second you walked into that clearing with pepper spray. You’re exciting and different and difficult, and you drive me absolutely insane.”
She tries to pull back, offended, but I hold her tight.
“But you’re also real,” I say. “You’re not playing a game. You’re not trying to manipulate us. You’re just... you. Fighting for what’s yours. Trying to survive.”
I pause, deciding to lay the last card on the table. She needs to know. After the night she’s had, after the secrets she’s shared, she deserves the truth.
“I like you, Saramaria,” I say, the words feeling strange but right. “I know you hate our guts. I know you want to sell this place and send us packing. But you have to know... you drive us all a little crazy. Boone, Knox, me. We’re all walking around here like moths to a flame, and it pisses us off just as much as it terrifies us.”
She stares at me, her mouth slightly open. The firelight dances in her eyes. She looks shocked.
“You... like me?” she repeats, like she’s never heard the words before. “But I’m a mess. I’m trying to evict you.”
“I know,” I say, a small smile touching my lips. “Like I said. You drive us crazy.”
The water in the pot bubbles, breaking the moment. I reach over and test the side of the pot with my hand. It’s not quite boiling, but warm enough.
I stand up, pulling her with me.
“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll find a washcloth and some soap. Then we’ll wait for the boys to get back with Wellsy.”
She looks at the pot of steaming water, then back at me. For the first time since I met her, the hard lines of her face soften.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Thank you, Rhett.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say, turning toward the bathroom. “Just... next time you want to burn down the yard, maybe wait until I have my coffee.”
She actually laughs. It’s a small, fragile sound, but it’s real.
I hold on to it.
Knox
The rain is a solid wall of water. It hits my face like needles, stinging my skin and making it hard to breathe. The wind howls, tearing at my coat and trying to push me backward. But I lean into it, squinting through the darkness.
Boone is a few feet ahead of me, his flashlight beam cutting a swath through the downpour. He’s moving with purpose, his boots sinking into the mud that has quickly turned the yard into a swamp.
And leading the way is Blue.
The border collie is a ghost in the night, his blue merle coat flashing whenever the lightning splits the sky. He runs ahead, then stops, looking back at us, barking loud as hell.
“He’s close!” Boone shouts over the roar of the wind. “Blue wouldn’t be acting like this if the dog wasn’t near!”
I wipe the water from my eyes, clutching my own flashlight tighter. My adrenaline from the bike ride has faded, replaced by a cold, gnawing worry. Not just for the dog, though that is part of it. I’m worried about her. Saramaria. The look on her face when she realized the puppy was gone... it haunts me. It was pure panic.
We reach the edge of the property near the drainage culvert. The ground here is uneven, slippery with wet grass and loose stones. Lightning flashes, illuminating the concrete mouth of the pipe.
Blue darts forward, barking frantically. He stands at the edge of the culvert, his tail tucked between his legs.
“There!” I yell, pointing my beam toward the dark opening.
Inside the pipe, huddled in a corner against the rising water, is a ball of wet, golden fur. Wellsy. He’s shivering so hard he’s vibrating. He lets out a high-pitched whine when he sees the lights, too scared to move.
Boone doesn’t hesitate. He hands me his flashlight and drops to his knees. He crawls into the mud, reaching his arms into the dark, wet space.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I hear him mutter. “I got you.”
He grabs the puppy by the scruff of the neck—gently, but firmly—and pulls him out. The dog is limp with fear.
