Chapter Sixteen #2
For one wild moment, she didn’t register the dark room and only saw the inside of Gary Crowe’s truck. The nightmare held her in its clutches for several heartbeats before the smell of diesel was washed away with Vander’s clean, fresh scent.
It took longer for the sound of her kidnapper’s voice to fade—she kept hearing those names.
Sarah never saw her family again.
Summer jerked hard, and Vander tightened his arm around her waist.
His lips were at her temple. “You okay?” His voice was rough with sleep, but it also crackled with alertness, as if even unconscious, part of him still guarded her.
Pulling in a slow breath, she centered herself in the here and now. Moonlight poured through the bedroom windows across the bedding, covering her and the man she loved. The duplex was quiet, and Ben was still safe with her parents, far away from all this.
No wheels on the highway vibrated in her bones. She was safe. But her heart ‘refused to slow down.
She twisted in Vander’s arms and found him watching her, his arm anchoring her. ‘
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
His eyes locked on hers, and she saw that he didn’t believe her.
He pushed himself onto one elbow. The sheet slid lower across his chest, revealing old scars and hard muscle. But tonight there was an element far more fragile underneath all that strength.
He looked as shaken as she felt.
“Bad dream?” he asked with gentleness that made her heart swell.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
In the moonlight, she saw his jaw flex and knew he was holding back strong words.
“I dreamed about the women he talked about.” Her whispered admission wavered.
He stroked his fingers soothingly over her cheek but didn’t interrupt.
“The names I gave the security team to look into… I never saw those women. I don’t know what they look like or where they lived…but I want justice for them.”
“We’ll see to it, honey. And the team and I will do everything in our power to see that he never sees freedom again.” He drew her against him, and she pressed her ear against his chest, hearing the thrum of his heart in a rhythm that steadied her.
But she couldn’t help but wonder if there were others Gary Crowe hadn’t named. How many women climbed into that truck thinking they’d eventually make it home? How many families still waited for daughters or sisters or friends who never returned?
Her stomach twisted, and she drew a steadying breath, concentrating on the slow motion of Vander’s hand moving up her spine.
She curled closer against him, soothed by his body heat and the feel of his skin. “I really thought I was never going to see home again,” she whispered into the dark.
Vander stilled.
“I thought about Ben the whole time.” Tears stung her eyes. “And my parents. How they’d feel if I didn’t come back.”
He slipped his fingers into her hair.
She stared into the darkness as old memories drifted to the surface. “When Ben was born, I called my parents crying because I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted to go home so bad.” A weak laugh escaped her.
Vander remained silent.
“But they’d already sold the house and most of their stuff, bought the RV and started traveling.”
At twenty-two, exhausted and terrified with a newborn in her arms, it felt devastating—like her parents were leaving her to carry everything alone.
She swallowed against the pressure building in her throat. “They were always there for me, but at that moment, all I could think was…of course everyone leaves eventually.”
His hand fell still on her back. Then he shifted closer until their foreheads almost touched.
“Honey.” His voice was a low rumble. “That’s not what happened.”
Her chest felt too tight to draw enough air. “It felt like it.”
“I know.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her jaw. “But your parents didn’t leave you behind.”
She blinked at his observation.
“They only changed what home looked like.”
Stunned, she could only stare at him.
“You couldn’t pack up a newborn and visit them. You were busy with your job and schedules. They knew you wouldn’t have the money or the freedom to see them as often as all of you would like.”
Her breath caught as his words fully sank in.
“They brought home to you, Summer.”
Understanding bloomed inside her chest.
She nodded. “They built a life that let them come to me.” She almost choked on the sweetness of those words.
She shook her head. “I never resented my parents for having a new life. I love when they visit. They parked the RV nearby for weeks after Ben was born. Dad fixes things around the house whenever he’s in town. ”
Vander stroked his fingers through her hair slowly. “They built their whole life around making sure you had support.”
She stared at him as another realization struck. “So did you,” she said slowly. The ache in her chest cracked wide open. All these years, she’d carried around hurt like proof she wasn’t worth sticking around for—that everyone would abandon her.
“Even after I broke things off with you, you didn’t stay away. You came to the bar. Made sure I got home. You were protecting me long before there was some psycho truck driver after me.”
Pope’s gaze held hers steady in the darkness. “Leaving you was never what I wanted. I just had to make myself worthy of you.”
She cupped his face and wouldn’t let him look away. “You were always worthy. But maybe I didn’t think I was.”
His lips softened into a smile. “I guess we’re made for each other.”
She pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss. “We are.”
He held her for long minutes, both of them digesting their confessions in the dark. “And another thing,” he murmured into her hair.
She tipped her head back enough to look at him.
“You never got the fun parts of life.”
A watery laugh bubbled up. “What fun parts?”
“You never got to enjoy RV life or run off on vacations. But if we’re together, we can. We’re in this together, Summer. I love you and Ben. I want to give you those things.”
She giggled. “Even if that means pulling over to see a statue of a giant dinosaur or the world’s biggest pancake?”
He chuckled, loose and carefree.
Suddenly, she could picture all of it. Ben laughing in the back seat. Vander with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh.
They wouldn’t be surviving—they’d be living.
For the first time in a long time, the future stopped looking like something she merely endured.
It finally started looking like somewhere she wanted to go.