Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Abigail
Isit at the small kitchen table in the guesthouse with my mug cradled between both hands, watching the stream curl toward the ceiling. My thoughts keep circling back to Jasper.
To the look in his eyes in that alley. Then again in the bathroom.
The way his hands shook as he held Ethan against the wall, then shook for an entirely different reason as he held me.
The way his anger felt like a storm that had nowhere to go but inward.
I understand that kind of rage. I’ve lived inside it.
I know how terrifying it is to wish such violence upon another person.
However, it’s an entirely different thing to be behind the hands that have dealt it.
There’s a new danger now. New lines crossed.
But it’s different this time.
Before, danger wore the faces of the men around me. It lived in their hands, their voices, their entitlement. It was aimed directly at me.
This time?
The men around me would burn the world down before letting danger touch me.
A knock lands at the door, ripping me from my thoughts.
But it’s not loud or demanding. It’s just Beau. I can see his handsome smile beaming at me through the front porch window.
Opening it, I find him standing in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, a backward cap perched on his head, aviators hooked into the collar like he forgot to take them off. His smile grows, easy and bright, dimples deep. “Morning, sunshine,” he says. “You busy?”
“Beau,” I scoff. “You’re going to catch pneumonia one of these days. Where’s your jacket?”
“Meh. Cold feels good against my skin.”
I roll my eyes at his nonchalant response and usher him inside. “Define busy?” I ask as I close the door.
He chuckles. “I’m outta some of Duke’s supplements, and after all of the craziness yesterday, I forgot to grab them while we were in town. Thought I’d run there today. You wanna come with? There may or may not be a small coffee shop in it for you. Maybe even a delicious pastry or two.”
I don’t hesitate. “Give me ten minutes.”
He winks. “I’ll be out here talkin’ to Lucy into thinkin’ I’m her favorite again. Seems as if you’ve stolen her.”
And sure enough, as I’m buttoning my jeans, I hear his voice floating down the hallway. “Don’t look at me like that, Luce. I already gave you two treats. This is extortion.” Lucy answers with a pleading whine. “Fuck. Fine. That face gets me every time.”
I can’t help but laugh quietly to myself.
Once I make my way out of my room, my eyes lock with his.
There’s still a lightness to him. A warmth.
But there’s an undercurrent there, like he stayed awake all night with his thoughts instead of outrunning them.
But before I have the chance to look deeper, Lucy sprawls out dramatically at his feet, belly up, stealing Beau’s attention.
Traitor.
“You were right. You win today.”
Beau gasps. “See? Lucy girl gets me.”
“Has nothing to do with the four treats you just gave her?”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Mhm, sure,” I reply with a wide smile. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s go.”
The drive into town is easy. Comfortable.
Just like the day he brought me here weeks ago, he keeps one hand on the wheel and the other draped casually over the center console.
But this time, we talk. We talk about nothing and everything.
About how he got Duke, about how Beau swears the grocery store manager rearranged their aisles just to mess with him after Beau went on a date with his sister, about how small towns somehow manage to know everything before it even happens.
Jasper’s name comes up once.
Just once.
But Beau doesn’t push. Doesn’t tease when I ask, “He good this morning?”
“I think so,” he answers. “He wasn’t pacing a hole in the floor, so that’s something.”
“Good,” I reply with a genuine smile. I wish I had the chance to talk to him more this morning, but I’m sure I’ll see him later.
Town is quiet this morning. It’s slow, unbothered, peaceful.
We swing by the farm supply first, and once Beau has what he needs, the two of us head to the cafe on the corner.
Beau orders for us while I wait at a small table tucked by the window, and when he brings over a cinnamon roll and coffee just how I like it, I smile a little wider.
“That was a dangerous game, Beau Saint John,” I tell him as we walk down the sidewalk, coffees in hand, after finishing our cinnamon rolls. “A girl could get used to this kind of Sunday morning.”
He laughs. “Kinda the point, Darlin’. I aim to please.”
The flirting is familiar—easy smiles, playful nudges—but it also feels different today. Somehow… steadier. Like he’s present in a way that isn’t just charm.
I’m about to comment on it when I see it.
Red.
Just a flash—vivid and unmistakable—disappearing at the end of the block.
And my heart stops.
It’s stupid. I know it is. I haven’t seen my sister in years. I gave up hope that she was alive long ago. But my body reacts before logic can catch up. My feet halt and my breath hitches as the world narrows into that single familiar shade of red.
“Abigail?” Beau asks, already turning toward me, brows pinched. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer.
I just take off.
I break into a run before I think better of it, rounding the corner and heading straight for the alley where the flash of color vanished. My pulse in my throat, my hands cold, my mind screaming that this is impossible and undeniable all at once.
It can’t be her. There’s no way. But what if—
“Abigail!” Beau’s voice cracks behind me, panic bleeding through the shout. “Stop! Wait!”
I don’t stop until I’m standing in the mouth of the alley. My eyes scan every inch of it like I might manifest her from thin air if I look hard enough.
But there’s nothing.
Just brick walls. A dumpster. And a puddle reflecting the winter sky above.
No red hair. No familiar smile. No ghost from my past stepping back into my life where I so desperately need her.
The realization hits hard enough that my knees wobble. Beau reaches me seconds later. Hands gentle but firm as he grabs my arms, turning me toward him. “Hey. Hey, talk to me. What happened?”
I swallow hard. “I thought… I thought I saw her.”
His expression shifts instantly. No confusion. No judgement. Just concern. “Your sister?” I must look at him in confusion because he clarifies, “Lincoln told us about her.”
I nod, eyes stinging. “I was sure of it. I know how insane that sounds. But I just—I thought—It really looked like her, Beau.” My voice cracks as I force the words out.
A tear finally falls down my cheeks, and Beau wraps me in his arms. He cradles my head against his chest with one hand and runs his hand along my spine with the other. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s not insane, Abbie.”
“I saw red hair,” I whisper against his warm chest. “It was just for a second. And my brain—” I cut myself off. “I was just so sure.”
Beau lifts my face and holds it in both his hands, thumbs warm against my damp cheeks. “Abigail,” he says softly, forcing my gaze to his. “You’re okay. You’re here. You’re safe.”
My breathing starts to slow, the tempo calm and even, thanks to the steadiness of his voice.
“She’s been gone for years,” I murmur. “There’s no way it was her. Right?”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch just for a second. Letting myself feel it. The reassurance. The care. And when I open them again, the alley looks as it should. Empty. Harmless. Void of Katerina.
Beau wipes away a tear as it falls. “You wanna stay here for a minute?” he asks. “Or we can head back. Whatever you need.”
I take a steadying breath and nod. “Yeah. Maybe… maybe let’s just walk. Give me time to clear my head.”
He smiles gently and plants a feather-light kiss on my forehead and whispers, “I’m right here, Abs.” His lips brush against my skin with every syllable. “I’m real. And I’m right here.”