Chapter 1 #2
Colby kept his expression steady, but anger simmered beneath it—hot and sharp and aimed squarely at a man he'd never met. Not at her. Never at her. At the man who had put that fear in her, who had stolen her sense of safety and made her doubt herself.
"Did you see him in town?"
"Yes." Her voice wavered. "Two days ago. He was across the street from the bakery, just... watching me. He didn't say anything, didn't wave, didn't approach. But it felt like a warning."
"Did you tell anyone?"
"No." She shook her head, and he could hear the self-recrimination in her voice. "I convinced myself it was nothing. That I was being paranoid. Copper Moon is supposed to be peaceful. Safe."
"It is." He held her gaze. "But that doesn't mean bad people don't slip through."
Her breath trembled. She finally looked up at him fully, meeting his eyes, and he saw the truth she'd been fighting—the fear she'd been carrying alone, the suspicion she hadn't wanted to voice because saying it out loud would make it real.
"I think he did it." Her whisper was barely audible over the hum of the monitors. "I think he set the fire."
Colby didn't react outwardly. Inside, his resolve hardened into something solid and unyielding. "It's okay to say that."
"But I don't have proof."
"We'll get it." He nodded toward the hallway. "Sergeant Diaz will be here soon. She's good at her job—thorough, relentless when she needs to be. Do you want her to know what you told me?"
Sabrina hesitated, her teeth catching her lower lip. "I don't want to cause trouble."
"You already have trouble." He said it gently, not unkindly. "Telling Diaz gives her something to chase instead of guessing."
She drew a shaky breath, then nodded. "Okay."
Colby straightened in the chair but didn't stand, didn't move away. "Before she comes in here, hear me on this."
Her eyes lifted to his.
"You're not alone in this. I don't care if your ex is involved or not. I'm not going anywhere."
Confusion flickered across her face, followed by something softer—hope, maybe, or the desperate wish that she could believe him. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me."
"Because someone should have helped you a long time ago." His voice gentled. "And because Copper Moon takes care of its own."
Her eyes filled, and she blinked rapidly, fighting the tears. When she spoke, her voice was thick. "Thank you."
He gave her a small, reassuring nod. "You'd do the same."
"One last thing?"
"Yeah?"
She looked into his eyes, searching. "Did you tell me the truth? Did everyone get out of the house?"
"Everyone got out." He held her gaze steady. "The three guests in the east wing, Mr. Patterson in Room 6, and the Hendersons on the third floor. You got them all moving before the smoke got bad. You saved them, Sabrina."
Her breath released in a rush, and some of the tension drained from her shoulders. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, they were clearer. Steadier.
Footsteps approached in the corridor. Sergeant Diaz appeared in the doorway, her notebook already in hand, pen tucked behind her ear.
"Ready?" Diaz asked.
Sabrina straightened her shoulders, and Colby watched fear and resolve war across her features. Fear won for a heartbeat. Then her jaw set, and something fierce flickered in her eyes.
"Yes," she said. "I want to tell you what I know."
Diaz stepped in and closed the door behind her with a soft click.
Colby shifted his chair back slightly, giving the sergeant room to work, but he didn't leave.
He leaned against the wall beside the bed, arms folded loosely across his chest, posture relaxed but alert.
Sabrina glanced at him once, a quick flicker of her eyes, checking that he meant what he'd said.
He gave her a subtle nod.
I'm here.
Diaz pulled the other chair around to face the bed, settling into it with the economy of someone who'd conducted a thousand interviews in a thousand uncomfortable places. "Start from the beginning. Take your time."
Sabrina took a breath. Then another. And she began to talk.
Her voice started quietly and hesitantly, but grew steadier as she went.
She told them about meeting Gavin five years ago at a hospitality conference in Charleston.
About the whirlwind romance that had swept her off her feet, the way he'd seemed so attentive, so devoted.
About how that devotion had slowly twisted into control—who she talked to, where she went, what she wore.
About the first time he'd grabbed her arm hard enough to leave bruises, and how he'd cried afterward, promising it would never happen again.
It always happened again.
Colby listened without interrupting, his jaw tight, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides.
He'd heard stories like this before—too many times, in too many emergency rooms and women's shelters and quiet conversations after the danger had passed.
It never got easier to hear. It never stopped making him want to find the man responsible and teach him what fear really felt like.
But that wasn't what Sabrina needed right now. She needed someone to listen. Someone to believe her. Someone to stay.
So he stayed.
Diaz asked careful questions, her pen moving steadily across the notepad. Physical description. Known addresses. Names of mutual acquaintances who might know Gavin's current whereabouts. Sabrina answered as best she could, her voice occasionally faltering but never stopping.
When she finally finished, silence filled the room. The monitors beeped their steady rhythm. Outside, the first gray hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky.
Diaz closed her notebook and met Sabrina's eyes. "Thank you. This gives us a lot to work with."
"Do you think..." Sabrina's voice caught. She tried again. "Do you think you can find him?"
"If he's still in the area, we'll find him." Diaz stood, tucking the notebook into her jacket. "I'll have a patrol car swing by the hospital every hour tonight. Tomorrow, we'll talk about longer-term arrangements."
Sabrina nodded, but her expression remained uncertain. Fragile. Like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Diaz paused at the door, looking back at Colby. Something passed between them—an understanding, a silent agreement. Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Colby pushed off from the wall and reclaimed the chair beside Sabrina's bed. "How are you holding up?"
"I just told a complete stranger every awful thing that ever happened to me." A weak laugh escaped her. "So, about as well as you'd expect."
"That took courage."
"It didn't feel like courage. It felt like desperation."
"Sometimes they look the same." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You should try to sleep. The hospital's safe, and Diaz wasn't kidding about those patrols."
"I don't know if I can sleep." She looked toward the window, where the darkness was slowly giving way to gray. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the fire. I feel the heat. I hear the smoke alarm that came too late."
"That'll fade. Not quickly, but it will." He spoke from experience, from too many nights spent replaying the calls that went wrong, the ones where he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been there in time. "And until it does, you don't have to face it alone."
She turned her head to look at him, really look at him, and he felt the weight of her gaze like a physical thing. "You're serious, aren't you? About staying."
"I don't say things I don't mean."
"Most people do."
"I'm not most people."
Something shifted in her expression. The wariness didn't disappear entirely—it would take more than one night to undo years of learned caution—but it softened, just slightly, around the edges.
"Colby?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." The words were simple, but her voice carried something deeper—gratitude, yes, but also the fragile beginnings of trust. "For everything."
He reached over and gently covered her hand with his. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly, but they curled around his, holding on.
"Get some rest," he said quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up."
She watched him for a long moment, as if testing the promise against everything she'd learned about the way promises could break. Then, slowly, she nodded.
She closed her eyes.
Colby settled back in the uncomfortable hospital chair and watched the dawn break through the window.
The copper moon had faded with the night, but its light lingered somewhere in the back of his mind—a reminder of the town he'd sworn to protect, and the woman who had somehow, in the space of a few terrible hours, become someone he couldn't walk away from.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Didn't know if Gavin was truly responsible, or if the fire would turn out to be something else entirely. Didn't know how deep the danger ran or how long it would take to root it out.
But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Sabrina Hartley wasn't alone anymore.
And as long as he was breathing, she never would be again.