Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
His chest lifts with a deep inhale. “Okay. Where do we start?”
Chapter 30
Emery
It’s midafternoon by the time Logan delivers me back to my house, with a back that screams and a bladder that’s about to explode.
I groan at the sight of Dillon’s minivan parked in my driveway. I was hoping to get home before he arrived to pick up Isla.
Logan eases the snowmobile next to the porch. I should have told him to go around back.
“We’ll talk later!” I yell over the noise, hoping he catches the gentle dismissal.
He cuts the engine instead, flips his visor open, and rests his elbows against the handlebars, making it clear he’s not going anywhere.
I don’t know what words were exchanged between Logan and Dillon that night at the arena—I never bothered to ask—but I sensed they weren’t pleasant.
Dillon steps out, saying something to Donna and Tanner inside before shutting the door. “Isla said she’d be ready,” he announces, fussing with his coat zipper as he strolls over to us.
“You’re early.” I climb out from my seat, unfastening my helmet.
“It’s a four-hour drive, and Donna wants to get settled at the hotel before we have to head to the arena.”
Whatever Donna wants … Mention of her reminds me that I should be a mature adult. I cast a reluctant wave.
From inside, an equally reluctant wave answers.
“So …” Dillon surveys the snowmobile but doesn’t acknowledge Logan. “Fun ride?” Two simple words and yet they’re steeped in allegation.
“I wouldn’t call it that, no,” I say evenly. “Someone’s been tampering with the fences on the Landry property.”
Dillon’s eyebrows arch. “What’d they do?”
“We’re not sharing details at this time,” Logan cuts in. “Not until we figure out who’s behind it.”
Dillon snorts. “What? You think I had something to do with it?”
Logan stares at him. “Did you?”
“I’m not even going to grace that with an answer.” Dillon shakes his head. “As if I don’t have far more important things to focus on. As does Emery.” He turns his annoyance on me. “Holly Monroe is still missing and you’re out here, riding around on a Ski-Doo with him, investigating fences?”
“It’s Saturday, and what I do on my own time is my business.”
“You sure about that?”
The door swings open then, and Isla comes crashing out, tossing her overnight bag onto the porch first, followed by her equipment bag.
Dillon shifts personas, his voice softening as he calls out, “Let’s pick up the pace, ’kay? We’ve got a long drive and they’re calling for squalls.”
“I’m trying.” She heaves her hockey bag onto her shoulder.
Logan’s out of his seat in seconds. “Give me that.”
“Thanks.” She hands it off to Logan before darting back up the stairs.
“She’s capable of carrying her own things,” Dillon snaps, too harshly.
Logan ignores him and strolls toward the minivan, Isla following closely behind.
Dillon tracks his movements with a scowl on his face. “I told you, I don’t want him around her,” he hisses.
Is it Logan in particular or any man, I wonder. Dillon hasn’t had to face the prospect of having another father figure in his daughter’s life. “Go ahead and tell her that. See how that goes.” Instinct tells me he’s going to lose that battle. There is a quiet bond growing between Isla and Logan, nurtured by their early-morning routine in the barn and the occasional horse ride around the property. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t please me to see that Isla has gotten over her initial skepticism about Logan’s return. She doesn’t seem hung up on his history at all. It certainly hasn’t kept her away from the Landrys.
And for Logan’s part, I see glimpses of a softer side of him whenever she’s around.
“You’ve got Biscuit’s stall for me?” Isla calls out as Logan heads back toward the snowmobile.
“And I’ll take him out for a ride. After I learn how to skate again.”
“Jon’s got one of those walkers you can use.”
“Smart-ass.” Logan chuckles. “Give ’em hell.”
I gesture for Isla to come back for a hug. “I’ll be watching the live stream, okay?” I smooth a strand of hair off her forehead. “I love you. Be safe.”
I get a mumbled “Love you” back as she piles into the van, greeting her stepbrother.
To Dillon, I whisper, “Make sure she eats enough. She hasn’t been eating.”
“Yeah, Donna noticed that.” Dillon’s brow furrows, his genuine worry for his daughter instantly overshadowing any conceived issues he has with Logan. “I’ll make sure she texts you when we’ve arrived.”
“Thank you.” A decency we’ve both agreed on in this tumultuous co-parenting ride, even if I have apps to track her phone.
Dillon’s focus shifts back to Logan, reseated on his snowmobile. “If someone’s messing around with their livelihood, I hope you figure it out. But be careful, Emery. There’s a lot of talk goin’ on, about you protecting him at the expense of finding out what happened to Holly.”