Chapter 16
CHANCE
It’s been five weeks since Roxie showed up out of nowhere, soot streaking her face and secrets hidden in her eyes, and I still haven’t figured her out. I stare at her across the kitchen counter as she finishes her omelet, trying and failing to fit her into any kind of box.
She slipped into our lives like ice cream melting to fill the cracks, the sticky sugar gluing us together again but in a different way.
Laughing with Dillon at things Boone and I don’t find funny.
Arguing with Boone about his nonsensical organizational systems that have been driving me nuts for ages.
Collecting the half-empty coffee mugs around the house like breadcrumbs for her to follow.
We really might’ve found the one with her, and we’ve all wanted that for the longest fucking time, but we still have no clue what brought her to Montana. Every time I look at her, I feel this undercurrent of tension she tries to hide.
It’s in the way her eyes track every sound. How her body goes still on the rare occasion a car passes outside.
She makes herself comfortable here, sure, but she hasn’t stopped running. And I can’t take it anymore.
So, I offer to take her into town with me for supplies this morning. Mostly as an excuse to get her alone, but also because I want to see how she handles being around people again.
“Sure,” she says when she finally swallows the last of her breakfast. “I’ll go, but only because I need to pick up a few things. I’m generally not fit for public consumption until I’ve had at least two cups of coffee, and this is only my first.”
She picks up the mug in front of her and lifts it like she needs to prove her point. I chuckle and stride over to the pot. “We’ve got travel mugs. I’ll pour us some for the road. By the time we get to town, you’ll be ready.”
Something about the wariness that creeps into her eyes as I fill the travel mugs tells me her real worry has nothing to do with coffee, but I don’t bring it up. Yet. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the drive and in town.
For now, I let her do whatever mental prep she needs, but Boone pulls me aside when she goes upstairs to put on her boots. Those gray eyes hold mine where we stand just inside the front door, tension etched into every line of his features.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I shake my head. “Honestly? I don’t know, but we can’t keep her on top of the mountain for the rest of her life. Besides, she said there were a few things she needed to pick up. If she really didn’t want to go, she’d ask me to just get it for her.”
He tips his face toward the ceiling, jaw ticking as he lets out a long, measured exhale. “All right. She goes, but—”
“You don’t need to tell me to look out for her, big guy.” I clap him on the shoulder and reach for the door. “You already know I will.”
He nods, but his jaw clenches, and when he looks at me again, I can tell it isn’t easy for him to let her go. The guy trusts me with his life, but he’s struggling to trust me alone with hers.
A smirk pulls at my mouth. “You’re really in deep, aren’t you?”
He scoffs. “Like you’re not.”
I shrug. “I’ve never denied it. We’ll be back before you know it. It’s just a supply run.”
Boone rolls his eyes, then gives me a curt nod and stalks back up the stairs, passing Roxie and reaching out to take her hand. She stops, letting him pull her in and burrow into his chest for a beat as he murmurs something I can’t catch.
Then he lets her go, and she smiles up at him like he hung the moon. A quiet moment passes between them before she moves again, not stopping on her way out the door.
I follow her to my truck, help her in, then take my place behind the steering wheel.
We’re halfway down the mountain by the time she finally speaks. “Do you, uh, do you know if the chimney at the cabin is fixed yet?”
A trickle of fear runs through me. There aren’t many things I’m actually afraid of, but losing the people I care about terrifies me, and sending her back to that cabin feels like losing her.
“The work’s been done for a while. Boone didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Would you have wanted him to?”
She pauses only a beat. “No, but you don’t mind if I stay with you?”
“No.” I feel her eyes boring into the side of my face while I keep my gaze fixed on the winding road ahead. “Workwise, it’s better to have you at the house, but it’s not just that. We like having you there.”
“Sex on tap?” she jokes, but it falls flat, and she groans. “Sorry. I think I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen other people in over a month. It’s weird how fast being a hermit starts feeling normal.”
I chuckle. “You’re telling me. When we first decide to build on that property, I thought the silence was going to drive us mad, but once the house was built and we stocked up on supplies, before we knew it, it’d been three weeks since we’d gone into town.”
She smiles at me, but I can see the tension winding through her. Her spine straightens, her eyes glued to the window.
By the time we pull into the general store lot, her knuckles are white, her hands twisted tight in her lap.
The place is busy, locals stocking up before the next cold snap, just like we are.
We’ve already had some big temperature swings, and soon we’ll have a few inches of snow on the ground instead of just a dusting.
The surge of activity is nothing out of the ordinary this time of year, but I see her posture change the second we step inside. Her shoulders tense, her breathing goes shallow, and her eyes scan the aisles like she’s cataloging exits.
Fear-born reflexes. I know them well. I’d worn them myself once.
A man in a leather jacket brushes past her near the canned goods aisle, and she startles hard enough to drop the basket she’s carrying. The sound of cans hitting tile is louder than it should be, and she freezes like a deer waiting for the shot.
I crouch down, picking the cans up one by one as I look up at her. “Hey. It’s just a guy, Rox. He’s nobody.”
She nods, but her hands are shaking. Close up, I can see the fine tremor in her fingers and her pulse hammering in her throat.
I hand her the last can, brushing my thumb over her knuckles before I can stop myself. “You’re safe. You’re with me, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She forces a small smile, but it doesn’t light her eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
But she doesn’t. Not really.
Whatever she’s running from has sunk its claws in deep, and it’s still there, coiled behind her ribs. I can see it in every careful breath she takes, every glance over her shoulder.
Back in the truck after we stock up on groceries, I turn to face her, not even starting the engine yet. I wait for her to look at me before I speak. “I don’t know what happened before you came here, but whatever it is that’s got you so scared, we can help. You’re not alone anymore.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes wide and glassy on mine. For a moment, I think she’s going to shut down again, but then her shoulders start to shake. She covers her mouth with her hand like she’s trying to keep it in, but it breaks anyway.
The dam. The silence. All of it.
It comes out in pieces at first, how she’d been at work on an ordinary night. How she recognized the man at one of her tables. What she overheard. Her voice cracks when she says the word mob.
By the time she gets to the part about the gunshot going off behind her and hearing glass shatter, she’s sobbing so hard she can barely breathe.
I don’t think, I just reach over and pull her into my arms. She clings to me like she’s drowning, and I hold on tighter, running my hand up and down her back until her breathing slows.
When she finally pulls away, her eyes are red, but she holds my gaze anyway, her next words coming out in a whisper. “I shouldn’t have told you. If he finds out where I am—”
“He won’t,” I interrupt, my voice coming out rougher than I mean it to. “He’s not getting anywhere near you, Roxie. Not while I’m breathing.”
She blinks, like she doesn’t quite believe it, but I mean every word. “Boone, Dillon, and I will figure this out. All we need to do is tell them. No more shutting us out, okay? If we’re going to keep you safe, we need to know everything.”
She wipes her face with the sleeve of her sweater, her eyes still shimmering. “I’m sorry for bringing this to your door. I dragged you into something that has nothing to do with you.”
I reach for her hand. “Don’t ever apologize for doing what you had to do to survive. You hear me?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, uncertain but searching. I lean in and kiss her with slowness and certainty. A promise more than anything else.
“We’ll protect you,” I murmur against her lips. “That’s not up for debate.”
For the first time since I asked if she wanted to come to town with me, a small smile tugs at her mouth. “Thank you.”