Chapter Six #3
Fern’s mind whirled, and her stomach dropped. “Oh god.”
A tall guy in a cowboy hat walked into the room, and Willow looked up. “Theo. We need your help.”
A crease appeared between his dark brows, as sharp as his tone. “What’s going on?”
“This is Fern. She’s designing our community garden for the therapy program. But she thinks someone is stalking her.”
At the word “stalking,” Fern’s stomach turned to ice.
“Fern, this is my brother Theo. Can I see your phone? I want to project the footage onto the big screen. We need a better look.”
When she handed the phone to Willow, her hand shook.
Crew made a sound in the back of his throat that sent goose bumps skittering all over Fern’s skin. He didn’t move from her side, almost bent around her like he was shielding her with his body.
She folded her hand into a fist in her lap, trying to make sense of the truck and the succulent she didn’t buy for the job.
“You say you saw the same truck at your new job site?” Willow asked.
“Yes.” Her voice came out as a hot rasp.
Crew issued a noisy breath. “Where is the job location?”
She told him the street name and stopped, chewing her bottom lip.
His gaze burned into her. “Is there more you’re not saying, honey?”
The lump lodged in her throat tasted like salt and acid. She nodded. “I didn’t buy a succulent…but there was one in with the plants I unloaded from my car.”
The room silenced. Crew locked eyes with her, and she swore she felt the force of a silent promise.
I’ll keep you safe.
The footage popped up on the screen and he broke their stare. Shaken by everything that was happening, she shifted her attention to the screen too. Seeing the truck again didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.
Theo stood in front of the screen, legs braced wide and his back muscles flexing as he folded his arms. He stared at the screen for a beat longer, then turned, his expression dark. “I’ll have someone run the plates. We’ll pull all the footage from the neighborhood too.”
Fern’s throat worked as she stared at the screen again—at the truck, at the angle, at the way it just…waited.
Willow’s voice gentled. “You can stay here tonight. We’ve got plenty of room.”
Crew didn’t push. He just watched her, steady as a fencepost, like he’d stand between her and the whole damn world if she asked.
Fern forced a breath into her ribs. “I appreciate that. I do.” She swallowed, then lifted her chin. “But if I hide, he wins. I didn’t leave one cage to build another.”
Crew’s jaw flexed—like he didn’t love her decision, but he respected it. “Then we don’t hide. We get smart.”
Fern’s chest tightened, anxiety clawing at her ribs.
“I should probably…tell you something.”
The room silenced, all the air sucked out. She stiffened her spine and began to talk.
“I was in a bad relationship. I…left in the middle of the night. I didn’t know where I’d land when I fled, but turns out it was Willowbrook.” She met Willow’s eyes. Crew sank to a chair beside her. Theo just waited for more, because he was trained to listen first and make plans after.
Willow’s big eyes were filled with sympathy. “He was abusive?”
“Not physically. Just everything else. He controlled what I did, who I talked to. He made me believe I was”—she pushed out a breath—“crazy.”
All the terrible things she’d escaped seemed to crash in around her.
Oh god, she couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in, just like the old days before she was able to escape Chris.
She lifted a hand, saw how bad it was shaking and was immediately thrown back in time to other moments when she couldn’t control her tremors.
A hand wrapped gently around her wrist. Crew’s familiar fingers, warm and callused, anchored her.
Willow pushed a pen and paper toward her. “Write down his name and any other information you can. Address, phone number, place of employment.”
When she picked up the pen, she barely registered it moving over the page. But after she passed the notebook back to Willow, Theo cleared his throat, taking control again.
“Going forward, we need you to take protective measures, Fern.”
She gulped but managed to nod.
“Text your job locations to Willow before you accept them.”
“Okay.”
“Any new client, I run background checks on.”
Crew seemed to curl forward as if guarding her with the steel of his body.
Theo continued, “This last one is the most important thing, Fern.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you feel off—about anything—you tell us. No justifying it, okay?”
She clenched her fingers in her lap until they grew chilled. Her breaths came faster. “I understand. I’ll share any weird feelings.” Her voice wavered.
“Come on.” Crew slipped his hand down to cup her elbow. “Let’s get some air.”
On the way out, she saw him exchange a look with Theo. They would have more to discuss, but for now, Crew guided her outside, and she followed numbly. They walked toward the pasture where the horses grazed. The sun was warm on her face, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
Crew stopped near the fence and turned to face her. “Fern.”
She looked up at him, and the concern in his eyes undid her. Tears spilled over, hot and fast, and she covered her face with her hands.
“Hey.” His voice was soft. He stepped closer, and then his arms were around her, pulling her against his chest.
She fit just right. Like she belonged there.
She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shirt as she tried to pull herself together. His hand moved in slow circles on her back, and she focused on the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Long minutes passed with only the sound of nearby horses and her own tears trailing off.
“Thank you,” she whispered at last.
He didn’t respond, just held her tighter.
A small voice pierced the silence. “Cwewww! Neigh-neigh!”
Crew’s arms loosened, and Fern pulled back, swiping at her tears. A little girl, no more than two years old, with the same gray eyes as Willow and Theo Malone, stood a few feet away.
Crew crouched down to the toddler’s level. “Where’s your momma?”
The girl took off in the awkward, stiff-legged run of a child who didn’t quite have the physical skill to run. “Neigh!”
Crew straightened and looked at Fern. “Wanna see the neigh-neighs? They always make me feel better.”
A watery laugh bubbled up. “I’d like that.”
He pointed to the child running to the fence. “That’s…Navy.” He seemed to push the name out, as if it stuck in his throat. “She’s Rhae and Denver Malone’s little one.”
Fern felt so out of control, but watching Navy gallop to the fence, chattering in toddler babble about each horse, made her feel better, just as Crew promised her it would.
With Navy’s enthusiastic voice filling the air, it was impossible to feel the same doom she experienced when seeing that truck.
Fern talked to her about how pretty the horses were, and got a bunch of gibberish in return that made her smile.
Fern leaned against the rail, and suddenly a small hand slipped into hers. She looked down at Navy, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.
Crew stepped up beside her, his arm brushing hers and his eyes blazing with something new, something she hadn’t seen there before. “You’re good with kids,” he rumbled.
She glanced at him. “I used to work with them. At a preschool.”
She could see he wanted to ask, but didn’t.
Her gaze drifted back to the horses. “I had to leave.”
He didn’t pry. He just pulled her into his side, his arm settling around her shoulders.
And for the first time all day, Fern felt safe.