Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Ouch.
Kane scrubs a hand through his rain-dark hair.
“Little man, I hear you,” he says after a second.
“So can we stay?” they both ask.
He holds up a finger.
“For now. But you have to listen to everything I say, and you never leave my sight or Margot’s. You want to hang around with the adults, you’ll act like one.”
“Got it! You can count on us,” Dan promises.
I’m almost expecting him to fire off a crisp salute.
Kane ruffles his hair. “You’re a good kid.”
“Can I hit the drums now? I finished my chocolate.”
“Run along,” Kane says.
It’s like the danger is half forgotten with the way Dan bolts upstairs.
Kane watches him go, his posture tight and his mouth turned down.
My heart stings as he glances at me, holding my gaze for a long moment before looking away.
I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to hear his kids talking about his ex-wife that way, how complicated their situation must be.
Knowing that every time he delivers them to her, they feel so unwanted. Unloved.
Especially when he does everything he can to put them first.
Today, I was able to forget reality for a few heavenly hours.
This was a nasty wake-up call.
Kane Saint has a life beyond our little small-town fever dream.
He has kids to raise and an ex-wife who’s still part of the picture.
Danger aside, this situationship isn’t healthy.
We can’t keep playing make-believe without serious consequences.
The sheriff arrives just before dinner with a deputy at his side.
They don’t stay long, just an hour or so, enough to ask a few questions and photograph the vague mud prints before heading to the Babins to clear things up.
They’re sure it’s a misunderstanding.
I want to believe that so bad.
I still don’t want to believe small-town drama can balloon into real menacing crime.
After they left, I threw together dinner, a frozen lasagna while Kane went outside to get the new security cameras working.
The entire time he’s gone, I’m on tenterhooks.
Sophie draws at the kitchen table while Dan brings his drum pad downstairs and plays in the living room—oddly quietly for him.
We all pretend we’re fine, but we’re obviously still jumpy whenever the house creaks or pops with the wind on a cool night.
By the time Kane returns, I’m a twitchy mess.
Sophie runs up and gives him a hug. Dan talks loudly about the music he’s been practicing, some old American military marching songs he found online.
“Everything okay?” Kane asks.
I nod. “Just peachy. Dinner’s ready.”
He helps me plate the lasagna and apple-gorgonzola salad I threw together and we take our seats around the table.
Dan stays weirdly quiet, picking at his food.
It’s like we’re still listening for a break-in, a jittering lock or a scraping window.
I can’t stop thinking about what might happen if someone was that determined to charge in while we’re here.
All the doors and windows are locked, but Kane found a tampered lock on the back door. Possibly a sign someone had a lockpicking set.
The only good news is having the muddy prints on record. The police photographed them.
Also, the truck sighting heading back from the lake house.
But with the small-town attitude, will that be enough?
Will they really think the Babins invaded this house without a smoking gun?
I have to look into a restraining order.
Seriously, I’m done being scared.
Kane stays silent, too, chewing mechanically as he thinks heavy thoughts that show on his face.
He couldn’t protect us from the asshole coming back. I’m sure that’s hanging on his mind like burrs.
It must eat him to the bone when the man’s a protector.
I just wish I knew what to say to make it better, but all my words feel patronizing, so I keep my mouth shut and eat quietly, barely enjoying what should be a tasty dinner on a cold night.
Once we’re finished and I bring our plates to the dishwasher, he lays out his expectations for the evening.
At least an hour of schoolwork for the kids, writing up what they learned about the fort and Sully Bay for school. They can work together in here on his laptop.
They don’t even protest.
My heart stings.
That’s how I know they’re shaken up, trying so hard to be brave.
“I’m going to test those cameras,” he tells me as he helps load glasses into the dishwasher beside me. “Nothing else is happening in this house on my watch.”
“Let me help.” I look at his strong, tight jaw and the hard, unforgiving shine in his eyes.
“Sure. Let me make sure they’re settled first.”
I hate how sour the whole vibe feels.
If I’m stuck here watching our happy time playing house going up in smoke, so is he.
At least he doesn’t turn me down, I guess. But it was like he looked straight through me.
I don’t know how to bring him back, how to ground us to the moment. Or even how to reassure him.
I don’t even know if it’s my place.