Just like before. Just like when the fire took Jen and Garrett.
He’d been hiking that day. Out in the mountains, enjoying the solitude, completely unaware that his entire life was literally burning to the ground. By the time he’d gotten home, the firefighters were already there. The house was little more than charred timbers and ash.
And his family was gone.
Tyler pulled into Gina’s driveway and killed the engine, sitting for a moment to collect himself. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Brooke needed him, and he needed to be strong enough to be there for her.
Even if this was his fault. Even if she’d be safer if he left town and never came back.
He climbed out of the truck and approached the front door. Before he could knock, it opened. Gina stood there, her expression tight with concern.
“She looks pretty rough, but she’ll heal,” Gina said quietly. “Where were you?”
“Working. My phone was in the office. I didn’t—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”
Gina’s expression softened slightly. “She’s on the couch.”
Tyler stepped inside. The house was warm and comfortable, the kind of place that felt like a home. Nick stood near the kitchen, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.
And there, on the couch, was Brooke.
The sight of her hit him like a physical blow. A bandage covered part of her head, stark white against her dark hair. Bruises were already forming on her arms. Her face was pale, drawn with pain and exhaustion.
But when she saw him, her eyes brightened.
“You’re here,” she said, and the relief in her voice nearly undid him.
“I’m here.” Tyler crossed the room and knelt beside the couch, taking her hand carefully. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay. You’re here now.”
“What happened?”
Brooke told him, her voice calm despite the tremor underneath.
With every word, Tyler’s guilt grew heavier. This wasn’t random. Someone had targeted her deliberately. And they’d been silent because they didn’t want her to recognize their voice. They knew her. Brooke knew them.
“This is my fault,” Tyler said quietly. “The note. It wasn’t a prank. Someone was watching me. They saw us together and decided to hurt you. I thought, since it’d been two weeks, we were safe.”
“You don’t know this was related to the note.”
“You don’t know it’s not.” He looked at their joined hands. “Could it have been that game warden? Did you get a good enough—”
“I don’t know who it was,” she interrupted. “Honestly, I don’t even really remember what he looked like. I wasn’t thinking clearly the day we found Sheila, and I can’t picture him.”
“Henry. His name is Henry . . . um, Ayers, I think.”
“Sorry. I can’t put the name with a face. I don’t know everyone in town, you know.” She gave a weak laugh.
Tyler sighed. “Maybe I should leave. At least for a little while. If I’m gone, maybe whoever’s doing this will stop.”
“Don’t you dare.” Brooke’s voice was sharp despite her exhaustion. “This isn’t your fault. If you leave, they win. And we lose. And I won’t lose, Tyler. I won’t quit.”
“But— ”
“No.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re not responsible for some psycho attacking me. You’re not responsible for what happened to your family. And you’re certainly not responsible for Sheila. Bad things happen, and they’re not always someone’s fault.”
Tyler wanted to believe her, and he knew in his head that she was probably right. His heart ached at the thought of walking away, yet the fear that she had been hurt because of him held him back.
