Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Two weeks later
“Let’s roll, birthday girl!” Linden calls out at the base of the stairs.
“Coming!” she shouts back.
He reaches for my hand and tugs me close. I rock to my tiptoes to meet his kiss. His soft lips embrace mine, lingering for an instant before he steps back with a groan. “I’m going to need more of that later.”
“That can be arranged,” I whisper, grinning.
He combs through my hair—a wavy shoulder-length until I grow it out again—his eyes softening. When he came to the hospital, after crawling into the bed with me, I finally let myself cry. “My brave girl,” he said, stroking my hair. “Give me those tears, sweetheart. I’m here.”
He hasn’t left my side since. Even though I’m all healed up and he’ll return to work soon, until then, we’re enjoying every minute we have together.
Linden turns away from the stairs and takes my hand, leading me toward the door. As I scoop up my purse and the gift bag from the edge of the couch, Kody lifts his head from his favorite patch of sun, yawns, and curls back up.
Outside, the warm afternoon sun carries the scent of pine and honeysuckle. It’s almost enough to mask the occasional whiff of charred wood from the shell of my house next door. It’s still hard to look at. Hard to believe.
It took Everett and a team of law enforcement agencies working in tandem a little more than a day to apprehend Stacy Morrow. Thanks to Russel’s cooperation, the case against her is unfolding quickly, with the evidence mounting every day.
Stacy was using the Pinedale Motel and her connections to a biker gang to deal the coke Russel smuggled onboard his charter flights from San Diego.
Trina was blackmailing Russel in an effort to boost her legal defense fund in her crusade against Sons of Eden.
But Stacy found out, and knew she had to shut it down or risk getting exposed.
After Russel confronted Trina at that abandoned house, Stacy hatched a plan to take care of Trina once and for all. She attacked her, then set the house on fire. Because Russel was the last person to see Trina alive, he’d shoulder the blame for her murder.
And it would have worked if Russel hadn’t decided to come clean.
If he’d fled to Canada like he’d planned.
He’d be a fugitive, but he would have escaped the ambush Stacy planned at my house.
After firefighters rescued him, he spent two days in ICU with several severe burns, a concussion, and a broken collarbone. He’s lucky to be alive.
Because as soon as he warned Stacy of his plans, she knew she had to eliminate him and anyone who knew the truth—like me—or lose everything.
Linden brings my hand to his lips, drawing me back to the here and now. He presses a kiss to my knuckles, then one on my wrist, beneath my bracelet. I haven’t taken it off since he placed it there. Even though he reminded me that a piece of jewelry didn’t make me brave that night.
That bravery lives inside you, shortcake. It’s been there all along.
He opens the passenger door just as Greta bounds out of the house, dressed in jean shorts and a sleeveless sun-yellow button-down shirt, the tails tied at her waist, her pink highlights flashing in the sunlight.
I flip down the seat so she can have the front, but she stops me. “I’ll ride in back.”
“But it’s your birthday!” I say, cocking my head.
She gives her dad a shy smile, then leans in to kiss my cheek. “You guys together might be my favorite present.”
Linden swallows hard and rubs the back of his neck while I hug Greta, emotion pricking my chest. “I’m a lucky lady to have you both in my life,” I tell her.
She gives me a quick squeeze, being careful of the now-healed but still tender burn wound on my neck, then she jumps into the backseat.
On the way to Ruby Gulch, Linden plays Greta’s favorite tunes and she shares anecdotes about the horses she can’t wait to introduce me to, her enthusiasm keeping my nerves at meeting Linden’s entire family at a simmer.
Linden drives past town and across the river, then turns on Saddle Mountain Road, which rises above the lake, the valley view opening a little more with every mile.
When we turn again, this time down a gravel lane bordered on both sides by split rail fencing, Greta stars bouncing in her seat.
Red and turquoise balloons are tied to the gate, and once it swings open, the truck is surrounded by several dogs, all barking and wagging their tails.
We kick up a cloud of dust pulling up to a big farmhouse with a river rock chimney flanked by a detached garage with what looks like an apartment above it.
Both are shaded by a mix of leafy aspens and tall pines.
Past them, along a narrow double track, is a horse pasture and giant barn.
The rest is prairie, dotted by black shapes that must be his family’s herd.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, soaking it all in. Picturing Linden growing up here fills my heart with the sweetest warmth and makes me want to explore every corner of the property.
Linden jumps down and squats to greet the hounds, then threads between the truck I recognize as Everett’s, and opens our passenger side. He helps me down, then flips the seat for Greta.
“That’s Chip,” Greta says as the white dog with black polka dots sniffs my hand, wagging his tail a mile a minute. “This is Libby,” she adds while a mostly white setter is busy licking her knees. “The black Lab is Bertie.”
Bertie is trying to get close but Libby’s tail keeps thwapping her in the nose.
“Hi, Bertie,” I say, giving her a pet. Her sleek fur is hot to the touch, like she’s been napping in a sunbeam.
Linden grabs my purse and the gift bag from the truck and we start toward the porch. The farmhouse door opens and another dog comes racing down to greet us.
“Poppy!” Greta cries as a chocolate-brown zephyr practically bowls her over.
Linden gives a hearty, full-belly laugh that echoes inside me like a song I never want to end.
We climb the wide steps to the porch, now crowded with Linden’s family all rushing to wish Greta a happy birthday.
In the throng of people and noise, Linden keeps his hand on my lower back, introducing me to his other brothers Sepp and his partner Hudson, and his youngest brother, Cam.
When I meet Everett’s fiancée Vivian, she pulls me into a hug that smells like honey and strawberries, then introduces me to her son Mateo who hands me a fistful of wildflowers.
“These are for you,” he says proudly. “Because flowers are always nice.” Everett puts his hand on his shoulder, and the two of them share a smile that could melt the polar ice caps.
“Have you met my son, Logan?” Everett asks, nodding at a tall boy with his dad’s serious brown eyes and dark hair, deep in conversation with Greta. At hearing his name, the boy flashes me a wave and a reserved smile.
“This is Edie,” Linden says just as a woman with light brown hair gives me a welcoming smile.
“I feel like we should hug,” Edie says.
Laughing, we embrace, then she steps back so Linden can introduce me to his parents.
“Meg, this is my mom, June.” The woman slides both of her hands into mine and squeezes. Her hands are weathered, but strong and warm. “So great to meet you, Meg.”
“And my dad, Nelson,” Linden adds.
Nelson and I shake hands. His is thick with callouses but no less warm. “Welcome. We’re glad you’re here.”
Linden and his dad lock eyes for one powerful, intense moment, and then Linden closes the distance. Nelson drapes his arm across his oldest son’s shoulders and closes his eyes. The hug lasts only a few seconds, but both men come away misty-eyed and grinning.
“Who wants to help me serve up watermelon?” June calls, spinning for the kitchen while the three grandkids trail her in a chorus of “Me! Me! Me!”
Before dinner, Linden gives me a quick tour of his childhood home.
The hallways are a treasure trove of family history.
Pictures of each child through the ages, their framed artwork, family portraits, ranch life.
In the earliest picture of Linden, I barely recognize him.
His face is thin and faint freckles dot his nose.
His eyes captivate me—they’re that same intense brown flecked with yellow gold.
“You were a pretty serious kid, huh?” I ask, leaning in to study it.
“Underneath it, I was probably more scared than serious.” He gives me a half smile. “That was taken after we’d been with Mom and Dad for six months, and I was scared to fuck it up. Especially for Everett. He was only five. I wanted him to have a good home to grow up in.”
“You held that all inside, didn’t you?” A clot of emotion sticks to my throat. “All that fear.”
“I would have done anything to keep us from going back to….” He huffs a soft sigh.
I reach for his hand. “This is about that cult, isn’t it?” Wincing, I cradle his hand against my heart. “Forgive me. I said I’d never bring it up. I don’t need to know.”
He brushes his thumb across my knuckles, then gazes into my eyes. “It’s okay.”
I step closer and rest my hands on his waist, telling him with my touch that he’s safe with me. That he doesn’t have to fear my rejection.
Linden presses a soft kiss to my lips, then tucks my hair behind my ears. “I figured out that our parents had joined Sons of Eden. We’d only been at the compound for a few weeks. But I saw enough to know that Everett and I needed to escape.”
“Sounds terrifying. You were so young.”
He gazes at the pictures for a moment. “What matters is we made it out.”
“Did you…start a fire?”
His eyes flash with surprise. “God no.” He laughs and shuffles his feet, and then he kisses my forehead.
“I got Everett to hide in a safe place, and then I ran to the fire department in town. It was the middle of the night, but there was a pair of firefighters down in the truck bay, returning from a call. I asked them for help, and they listened.”