Chapter 15 #2
He stepped closer, closing the last remaining distance between them until she could feel the heat of him along her entire front.
"You said yesterday that it scares you how much you want this.
The cabins. The land. The life that comes with building something from scratch.
" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "It scares me how much I want you in my life.
How much I already look forward to seeing you in my kitchen.
How empty the cottage felt before you started leaving your shoes by the door.
That doesn't mean I walk away because someone cut some string and wants to play mind games. "
She let out a shaky laugh that was more than half a sob. "You really have a way with romance. String-cutting and crime scenes."
"Hey," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm a man of lumber and spreadsheets and fire scene analysis. You get what you get."
She rested her forehead against his chest, right over his heartbeat. "You're more than that, and you know it."
His hand slid up her back, slow and steady, and came to rest between her shoulder blades. "So. Ground rules."
She groaned into his shirt. "You would make a list."
"Absolutely, I would," he said. "One. You're at the cottage. Full stop. No argument."
"Fine," she muttered against the fabric.
"Two," he continued. "You do not come out here alone. Ever. Not even for five minutes to check on something."
"I already agreed to that with Diaz," she said. "You don't need to double down."
"I like making sure," he said. "Three. We tell the people who matter what's going on so they can keep an eye out. Extra sets of ears and eyes."
"Hank and Brian," she said.
"And Bree," he added. "That woman hears everything. If someone mentions seeing a strange truck on this road or an unfamiliar face asking questions, she'll know about it before Diaz does."
The idea of that informal network tightening around her property, around her life, made her chest ache in a completely different way. "You're building me a security system out of people."
"That's usually the best kind," he said. "The kind that actually cares about the outcome."
She lifted her head and looked at him. "I hate that you're right."
He smiled, small and real and just for her. "Gets you every time."
Silence settled between them, thicker than before but without the sharp edges of earlier. The cabin frame stood behind them, patient and unfinished. The broken lock was somewhere in Diaz's evidence bag. The boot prints waited for plaster casts.
The threat had shifted from abstract fear to something with weight and shape and footprints.
Sabrina looked past Colby's shoulder at the outline of her future, the bones of a cabin that someone had tried to rattle but hadn't managed to knock down.
"I won't let whoever did this take this from me," she said, and her voice came out steadier than she expected. "They already took Norman House. They already took the life I thought I wanted. I'm not handing them the next one."
"Good," he said. "Hold onto that. Remember what it feels like."
"I might need help," she admitted.
His eyes warmed, that particular shade of brown that made her think of coffee, autumn, and safe places. "That's why I'm here."
She nodded once, a decision settling into place. "Then we go back to the cottage. You make your terrible coffee, and I'll call Bree and tell her what happened so she doesn't hear it from someone else and show up here with a pitchfork and righteous fury."
He snorted. "You know she would."
"Of course she would," Sabrina said. "She's my friend."
"And I'm your…" He trailed off, watching her face, waiting.
Her heart did a strange, offbeat step. "Partner in lumber crime," she offered, testing the words.
He huffed out a laugh. "For now."
For now hung between them, weighted with everything they both knew and hadn't quite said out loud yet. The promises they were circling. The future they were building alongside walls and foundations.
She reached for his hand. "Let's go home."
He squeezed her fingers, his grip warm and certain. "Yeah. Let's."
They walked back to the truck together, gravel crunching under their boots in a rhythm that felt almost normal. Almost peaceful. Behind them, the cabin frame held its ground, three walls standing against the sky, waiting for the work to continue.
Whoever had tried to rattle her had managed it.
They had also pushed her and Colby one deliberate step closer together, whether or not that had been their intention. Some forces, when applied with pressure meant to break, only strengthened what they touched instead.
Sabrina climbed into the passenger seat and watched through the window as the land she loved, the land someone was trying to take from her, slid past in shades of green and gold.
She wasn't running.
She was going home to regroup. To plan. To let herself be held by someone who had chosen to stand beside her.
Tomorrow, they would come back. They would replace the stake. They would re-string the lines. They would keep building.
And whoever was watching would see exactly how little their intimidation tactics had accomplished.