She met his eyes and blew out a breath, deciding to give him the basic facts—but not all of them.
“Vince Furlough made my life miserable from the first week of working together. Nothing I did was right, nothing was good enough, and eventually I reached a point where I was done.” She lifted a shoulder. “So I left.”
“Just like that?” His eyes narrowed even more.
“Just like that.”
He studied her before nodding. “And the erratic behavior headline?”
“That’s Vince protecting himself.” She held his gaze. “It’s not true.”
A beat passed before he said, “Vince sounds like someone who doesn’t handle losing control well.”
Something in her chest loosened. “He doesn’t. He’s a narcissist.”
Caleb glanced at the kennels, his gaze still unsettled. “For the record—you could have called us. Any of us.”
“I know.” She looked down a moment. “I know that.”
He squeezed her shoulder and turned back toward the house.
Rowan stood in the yard a moment longer.
Then she turned toward the kennels. She hadn’t made it inside earlier to see the puppies, and right now a litter of dogs sounded like exactly what she needed.
Wes had told himself the whole drive back from Staunton that he’d wrap things up at Refuge Cove and head to Baltimore tomorrow—just as he’d planned.
But he knew that wouldn’t be happening.
There were too many things unresolved. The fire, the helicopter. The visit from the county official.
Any one of those things on its own might have let him walk away with a clear conscience.
Together, they wouldn’t let him go.
And then there was Rowan.
He turned toward Refuge Cove and let that thought settle without examining it too closely.
Just as he pulled up, he saw a delivery truck idling outside the gate. The driver climbed out with a padded envelope in hand and walked toward the intercom.
“You with this property?” the driver asked.
“I am.”
“Got a delivery for a,” he glanced at the package, “Rowan King.”
“I can take that for you.”
The driver nodded, climbed back in, and pulled away.
Wes looked down at what he was holding. Padded envelope, rigid contents, roughly the size of a sheet of paper. He turned it over.
Rowan King, care of Refuge Cove.
He squinted. There was no return address.
He didn’t like those implications.
