Chapter 7 #2
I’m not going to be here forever, Lucy. I want to see you settled. There’s nothing wrong with that.
As the nutty aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, she reminded herself that Grandpa Rusty was alive and well. But one day, all of that would change.
Once he was gone, what then?
Lucy didn’t want to live alone or try to manage the ranch by herself.
She placed two mugs on the counter. “How do you take your coffee? Cream. Milk. Sugar.”
“Black is fine.”
She filled both mugs and set one in front of Aiden. Carrying the other, she sat in a chair across the table. “What did you find out about the fire?”
He ran his thumb up and down the handle. “Is your grandfather home?”
“He went to take care of the livestock,” she said, wrapping her hands around the cup. “But I’m responsible for this ranch as much as he is. Whatever you want to say to him, you can say to me.”
Aiden stared into the cup. He let out a long breath and lifted his gaze. “I found a few things that I don’t like. For starters, it looks like the fire began near some fabric. A canvas tarp, if I had to guess.”
“Sure,” she said. “We kept a couple in that barn. I don’t think they’ve been used for years.”
With a nod, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Lifting his brows, he said, “This is good. Real good.”
“Thanks. I grind my own beans.” The imported beans and the electric grinder were the two indulgences she allowed herself.
But the fact that Aiden appreciated her effort warmed Lucy from the inside.
She took a sip, savoring the flavor. “You said that you found a couple of things. Other than the tarp, what else?”
“I also found a scorch mark on the ground. I gave it to Cal, um, Sheriff Colton, my brother. He’s going to get it to the lab in Bismarck to see if there’s any accelerant in the soil.”
The room got cold. Lucy’s hands began to shake. She sat back in her chair and tucked her hands under her armpits. “An accelerant?” she echoed. “Like what? Gasoline?”
“There are lots of reasons that a mark like that could occur naturally in the fire. But I want to see what the chemists at the state lab find.”
Her heart slammed against her chest and her pulse pounded in her temples. “Okay,”
“There’s more.” Aiden rose from his seat and came around the table. He sat in the chair next to hers. “I found something in the barn.”
“More than the burn mark on the ground.”
He nodded his head.
Lucy could feel the tension in the air, pressing her down like a weight. She reached for her mug of coffee, lifted it to her lips and took a sip. Only a moment ago, the drink had felt like a warm hug. Now, it was bitter and tepid.
Aiden placed his hand on her wrist. “There was a lock,” he said, “on the outside of the door.”
“The latch you mean,” she said. Then again, she was no fool. She knew what he was trying to say. Heck, she’d known something was wrong all along.
“Lucy.” His fingers tightened. “The lock was new. It was put on the door to trap you inside.”
His voice swirled around her, like a mist. Even though she’d heard what he said, she couldn’t make sense of the words. Then, the fog lifted, and Lucy understood. Someone had locked her in the back room and then set the barn on fire. It was no accident. Someone wanted her dead.
That’s when the earth seemed to open and swallow her whole.
For a moment, she felt as if she were falling, unable to stop her descent.
It was the loss of control that frightened her as much as the darkness that crept in from all sides.
Her feet went numb, and her hands started to tremble.
Sweat dotted her brow, her lip, and collected at the nape of her neck.
She had to focus on something that she knew was real.
The pressure of Aiden’s fingers on her wrist was real.
The warmth of his hand on her skin was real.
The scent of him, musk and pine, was real.
She inhaled deeply, just like her grief counselor had taught her all those years ago.
She exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Her breath was real, and still she kept falling deeper and deeper into the pit.
“I’m here.” Aiden’s voice came from far away. “And you are safe.”
But she wasn’t safe. Someone had tried to kill her, and she was still falling. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to climb out of the void.
Breathe, her inner voice said. Focus on what’s real.
Inhale.
The pressure of Aiden’s fingers on her wrist.
Exhale.
The warmth of Aiden’s hand on her skin.
Inhale.
The scent of Aiden—musk and pine.
Exhale.
Lucy could feel her own hand, still wrapped around her mug. The chairback, hard against her spine. Her feet on the cold wooden floor.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“I’m here and you are safe,” Aiden said again. This time, his voice was close.
Golden sunlight came through the linen curtains. The cabinets gleamed. The scent of coffee filled the room. She lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. Her body and mind came back together. “Someone put a lock outside the door?”
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I wish there was something else to tell you. But I promise, I’ll find whoever did this. They’ll be held responsible.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about what happened? The panic attack, I mean.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t had one for a while.”
“Me, either,” said Aiden. “But it always helped for me to chat with someone after.”
How could someone as perfect as Aiden Colton have panic attacks?
She regarded him for a moment. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t think talking helps? It does, I promise. Sometimes you just need to find the right person.”
“I doubt that you’ve ever had a panic attack in your life.”
“Please, don’t judge.”
Lucy sipped her coffee. “You’re right. I shouldn’t make assumptions.” She took another drink. “I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology. But let me ask you another question. When did you eat last?”
Honestly, she couldn’t remember. Lunch, maybe. There certainly hadn’t been time for dinner, not with the carnival starting. “I had funnel cake at the fair.”
“You need something to eat.” He gave her wrist another squeeze. “Can I rummage in your fridge? I can pull something together.”
She should be the one making food for Aiden. He really had saved her life. But as the last of the panic attack faded, she was exhausted. “Sure.”
He rose from his seat and crossed the room, opening the refrigerator door. “Do you like bacon and eggs?” he asked. “You have both.”
She took another sip of coffee. The caffeine gave her fuel. “I can’t let you make me breakfast,” she said. “Besides, Grandpa Rusty went to feed the animals. I don’t know what time he left, but he’ll want something to eat when he gets home.”
“And your point is?” Aiden held a carton of eggs collected from their own chickens.
“My point is that I can’t have you cooking for us both.”
“I don’t mind.” He pulled a package of bacon from the fridge and set it on the counter.
“You might not mind,” she said. “But I do. Besides, if one of us is cooking for the other, it should be me making food for you.”
“How about this,” Aiden suggested. “We make breakfast together. I’ll stay until your grandfather shows up. After everything I found in the barn, I’d like to talk to him as well.”