Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I can’t go to Wade either. Not yet. My brother will come down here ready to burn the town down, and he’ll ask me why I didn’t tell him things got this bad. He’ll look at me like I’m breakable.
And I’m not breakable.
I’m furious.
I’m just… cornered.
My phone buzzes again.
Graham:
Come see me. We’ll fix it.
My stomach flips, sick and sharp.
Fix it.
Like we’re talking about a paperwork error and not a man who’s taking my livelihood away because he can’t stand that I left.
I type one thing, quick and clean.
Me:
Go to hell.
I hit send and immediately feel the weight of it. Not fear. Not regret.
Just the understanding that I’ve officially made myself his enemy.
And enemies get punished.
I stare at the orange notice again, at the lock that doesn’t recognize me, at my life sitting behind glass like it’s a display I’m no longer allowed to touch.
My breathing turns shallow.
I need a place to go. Now.
Somewhere he can’t reach in an hour with a smile and a threat. Somewhere I can think without feeling his hand on the back of my neck.
I scroll without really knowing what I’m looking for, thumb jerking down my screen like I can shake an answer loose.
And then I see it again—the listing I dismissed last night because it sounded insane.
Bride wanted. Kindness and Security Offered. Dog Lovers Only.
I stare at it until my pulse slows and then spikes again, like my body can’t decide if this is survival or stupidity.
My finger hovers over the number.
This is reckless.
This is humiliating.
This is not who I am.
Except… it is. It has to be, because I’m out of choices.
I tap the number and bring the phone to my ear before I can talk myself out of it.
It rings.
Once.
Twice.
On the third ring, a man answers with one word, rough and low.
“Yeah.”
My throat tightens. “Hi. I’m calling about the listing.”
Silence.
Then, “You read it.”
“Yes.”
Another pause. “You understand what it is.”
“I understand you’re offering… security.”
His voice drops, steady and certain. “I’m offering a place you can’t be reached.”
My fingers go numb around the phone. “Where?”
He says the address like it’s nothing.
And my stomach drops straight through the sidewalk.
Because I know that road. I know that turnoff. I know that stretch of land tucked into the trees like a secret.
Local.
Familiar.
Wrong.
My screen pings with a text a second later—his number sending the address again.
I stare at it, breath caught.
Because whatever I just agreed to?
It’s real.
And it’s close.
Chapter 2
Wyatt
The knock comes soft, like whoever’s on my porch doesn’t want to be heard.
That tells me plenty before I even reach the door.
I don’t rush. I don’t need to. I’ve already checked the tree line twice, already clocked the tire tracks that don’t belong up here, already made sure the shotgun is where it’s supposed to be and the locks are solid. The ad wasn’t a joke. It was a line in the sand. If someone crossed it, they’d find out real fast what happens on my land.
I reach for the handle, then pause with my palm flat against the wood.
And then I smell it.
Chocolate.
Not the artificial, candy-aisle kind. Real. Dark. Warm. Like it clung to skin and hair and clothes and made a person smell like trouble and temptation.
My chest goes tight.
I open the door.
Ellie James stands on my doorstep with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a stare that’s too bright for the way her hands are shaking. Wind lifts a few strands of hair out of her messy bun and throws them across her cheek. She looks like she drove too fast and thought too hard and refused to cry the whole way here.
Her eyes meet mine.
And for a second, neither of us moves.
“Wyatt,” she says, like she’s testing the name. Like she’s surprised it still works in her mouth.
I don’t answer right away. I’ve known Ellie since she was all knees and opinions, since Wade brought her around the station to show her off like a badge and told every guy there to keep his eyes to himself. Back then, I laughed and promised I would.
I kept that promise.
Even when she got older. Even when she got prettier. Even when she started walking into rooms like she owned the oxygen and my chest tightened every damn time.
I kept it.
And now she’s on my porch because she answered my ad.
Her gaze drops to my bare forearms, then snaps back to my face like she caught herself doing it.
Good.
She’s not the only one who’s going to struggle.
“You’re early,” I manage, because my brain wants something neutral to cling to.
She blinks. “I’m… what?”
“Forty minutes,” I say, nodding once. “You beat my estimate.”
Her mouth pulls into a tight line. “Sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my crisis better.”
There it is. The bite. The Ellie I remember. The one who uses sarcasm like armor.
It hits me low in the gut anyway.
“Come in,” I say, stepping back.