“What?”
I leaned forward, my voice dropping. “She didn’t want me. She just wanted the money. The stuff.” It still hurt. Catherine had been a boring lay, but I’d returned to her and kept her around because she was convenient. When I reflected on it years later, I realized how immature it had made me, but there was no way I’d regret it, because that would undo the path I’d taken to create my daughter.
“I have full custody of Opal. She only fought me on it because she knew I’d agree to alimony on top of the payoff she got in the original agreement. I’m guessing she’s looking for more. Too bad that was an ironclad deal.” She’d asked me in a text about the possibility of Catherine suddenly changing her mind about wanting to be a mother. Nothing would have made me happier once upon a time, but that ship had sailed. “I would never trust her with my daughter. She’s mean, manipulative, and a liar.”
She bit her lip, eyes shining, and for a moment, I thought I had broken through. But then she shook her head and stood up suddenly. “I believe you, Rhodes. I do. Thank you for sharing. Yesterday was intense—the attack, us… and now this note. Itfeels like a sign to slow down. I’m not saying I’m done, but I need things to go back to a regular pace.”
I leaned forward, voice lowering. “I’ve never gone back to her. Not once. She’s poison, and last night? That was her trying to worm her way in again because she’s broke and desperate. But you… You’re everything she’s not. Real, kind, the way you light up with Opal, with your family. It’s not unfinished business with her—it’s over. You're the one I want, Sage. The one who makes me feel like I can build something real again."
“I’m glad you feel like that.” Her words were quiet, her hands still knotted together.
Frustration clawed at me, but I swallowed it. Pushing her now would make her disappear for good. “Take the time, but I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not giving up.” Everything that was going on right now was a lot. The one thing I was good at was protecting people. I could give that to her until she was ready. “You’re not giving up on me, are you, sweetheart?” I had to ask.
“The opposite.” She shook her head and got up, moving toward me into my arms. “I like you a lot. Too much to be sane about, and I need to make sure we aren’t moving too fast. Everything has been happening all at once, and that’s not my normal speed. I’m life in the slow lane.” Her face was tucked against my chest as she spoke, but I understood what she was looking for.
“I can do slow lane. I’m glad you aren’t giving up on us.” Clearing my throat, I gestured to the flowers. “Let’s talk about this for a minute. We’re digging deeper. Parrish traced the delivery service used before, but the locations are all different, and the deliveries were sent by a proxy. We’re pulling the footage to see if we can find anything useful. Now that they’ve sent multiple items,we might be able to cross-reference and find something. Ryatt's running backgrounds on your exes."
“Okay.”
“We ran a more comprehensive check on Alan, and I have Parrish going to pick him up.” Her whole body jerked in my arms as she stood up and paced.
“It was him?”
“Potentially.” The vehicle was blocked in the gas station lot. I hesitated because this was a conversation I’d rather have somewhere else. “What do you remember before the Holts?” I finally asked.
She reeled back. “What? What does that have to do with anything?” Her lip trembled.
Sage’s father and mother had died in a home invasion robbery in Idaho. She’d gone immediately into protective custody until the killer had been prosecuted. She eventually ended up with the Holt family, and the name Sage was given to her somewhere along the way, but it wasn’t her original name.
“Anything?” Taking her hand in mine, I phrased the question gently. I hadn’t pried into her records here in Wildwood Meadows, but I knew she had been put in therapy immediately. Everything I read indicated that the child found at the scene had been in severe shock. Words like trauma-induced amnesia had been thrown around.
She shook her head, and her eyes shuttered. “No. I don’t really remember anything. Sometimes I have nightmares, but I don’t have any memories of anything before coming here. Not really.”Her eyes narrowed. “Why. What does this have to do with Alan? God, he’s not my relative or something, is he?”
“No. But there is an indication that he was in a foster placement with you for a few months in another state. We’re going to question him about that and see if it was him at the gas station, but whatever it is. I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded, but her gaze drifted to the note again, a shiver running through her. "It creeps me out. Like they know something personal."
"We'll figure it out," I promised, standing too. I wanted to hold her, kiss away the worry, but I held back. "Opal's asking about you already. She wants to build more fairy houses."
A small smile tugged at her lips, the first real one since I walked in. “We’ll build more fairy houses. Tell her I'll bring those mini plants tomorrow."
“Ellis will keep you safe, but call if you need anything.” She gave me a nod, and this time she let me fold her into a hug.
Slow lane. I could do it.
If Sage needed space, fine. But I'd be damned if I let this stalker or my past rip us apart. She was it for me—the deeper connection I'd craved, the one that made every protective instinct roar to life. I'd give her time, but I'd fight for her. For us.
I turned to leave, coordinating with Ellis outside, just as a call from Parrish rang through.
Rhodes
“Fine,” I snapped to Parrish, already hanging up the phone. It was rare for him to bypass my orders completely, and on a matter like this? Well, he wasn’t getting into my good books this way. He was already in trouble for letting Catherine ring the damn doorbell at my house. Luckily, he and his crew had finished up on the fencing and security today. At least he was efficient; otherwise, I’d have been complaining to Briggs. Maybe I’d call and bitch later anyway.
Spinning the wheel, I headed toward the police station, already gritting my teeth. There were far more private ways I preferred to handle Alan Boaz. None of them involved the cops. Blood, fists, and some torture suited my style better in this sort of situation.
Wade was all by the books now. Mostly. He was definitely going to run it all legal-like when we were holding an interrogation in his own damn building, now that he was the police chief.
The woman at the front desk looked overwhelmed by file folders that spilled over every surface of the large counter. She was so focused that she barely noticed me looming over her space.
