Chapter Thirty-two – How Much Can a Heart Hold #2
Maybe not in the way I’d once needed him as a child for food and shelter.
Not even for the emotional support he’d failed at giving.
But I did need him. He loved me in his own, incomprehensible way, and he was trying to make amends for how he’d checked out on us—on me.
We had a chance to build a relationship we’d never had before, and I needed a relationship with my father that would bring back those early childhood memories of laughter and games.
We’d eased toward that while staying at Beckett’s, and I wanted it to continue so if and when he did pass away, I’d have a host of good memories layered over all the bad.
Beckett returned from checking in with the SEALs, saying they had nothing new for us. No one had showed up on any of the cameras they’d installed. No one was physically lurking in the shadows.
And yet, I still felt them there. I could almost feel their breath on my shoulder.
When we headed for bed, Vader followed us with his tail down, and I realized it wasn’t just the emotions he felt zipping through the air. He whined as he sniffed at the blankets where Dorothy had been.
“He misses the cat,” I told Beckett.
He rubbed his dog from head to tail. “I know, bud. Things have been chaotic. Dorothy will be back with us soon, and you two can cuddle all you’d like.”
The dog settled at the bottom of the bed, still looking distraught.
Under the covers, Beckett tucked me up against him and kissed me. It held the same fierceness as the kisses last night, the same promises I’d felt embedding themselves deep inside me, and yet it was also incredibly tender. A kiss goodnight rather than a kiss that led to more.
Longing flared to life, pricking at the shell I’d forced around me.
This was what I needed even more than the numbness.
I needed his touch. Not only to feel alive and loved but to chase away the worry and fears and guilt that were clinging to me from this awful day.
I craved a few minutes of bliss to hide the pain.
I slid my hands and mouth along his neck and his chest before trailing hungry, frantic kisses lower, tugging at the waistband of his boxer briefs.
He stopped me, dragging my mouth back to his and kissing me tenderly. “Maisey—”
“I need you to make love to me, Beckett. I need to forget everything but your touch for at least a few moments. Remind me I’m yours. That this is real. That our fake relationship isn’t fake at all.”
His Adam’s apple worked overtime, and unshed tears welled, but he did just what I’d begged.
He made love to me. It wasn’t with the insatiable hunger of last night.
Instead, it remained slow and sensual. Each stroke, each touch, each kiss was another vow.
An oath he was uttering to me in the silence.
I hated that as we moved together, as he filled me up body and soul, my mind went to just what this might cost us. Hated that whoever had come for us had me wondering if Beckett had been right all along, and all relationships were doomed.
When we’d both reached the top and come down the other side, tears were running down my face. Beckett caught each one, gently wiping them away.
“Don’t cry, my Maisey-girl. When you do, it guts me.”
“I’m happy, Beckett. This time with you makes me so happy.” While it was true, I could already feel the emptiness swirling back in. “But I’m also sad and terrified.”
He kissed me on the forehead. “I know, darlin’. I know. But right now, you’re here, safe. Your Dad is safe. All the people you love have others watching over them. So try to get some sleep. Everything will seem better in the morning.”
But it didn’t.
I woke with the same hollow heaviness hanging on me.
Dad was still in a coma. No one had caught the attacker. We had no answers or solutions or end in sight.
Instead of looking forward to a day I’d always enjoyed—a day that had always brought happiness to me and our town—I felt the weight of the world pressing down. It tagged along with us as Beckett and I drove to the ranch with a sheriff’s deputy following close behind.
Fallon and her family had done their best to turn the often-questioned holiday of the Fourth of July into a true community celebration.
Each year, they hosted the festivities at the ranch, starting with a trick-riding show that drew in the crowds before everyone wandered through the craft, food, and game booths.
Throughout the afternoon, friendly teams faced off in sports and riding challenges, and when evening fell, the family capped it all off with a classic summer barbecue—free for the hotel’s guests and the entire town.
It was typically a joyful day for the residents of Swift Rivers.
I was determined to shake off the heaviness holding me down and concentrate on the goodness the day brought rather than the person waiting somewhere in the shadows.
I’d barely finished braiding Titan’s mane and putting on his trick saddle with Beckett’s help when Sheriff Wylee strode into the barn.
He looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept at all, and more guilt zeroed in on me.
The man was over seventy and running himself into the ground trying to solve my problems. Even though it was his job, I still despised that my troubles were the reason for it.
After greeting Beckett and me, the sheriff handed me my phone. It was a relief to have it back. I pocketed it, and Beckett grabbed my hand, tugging me into his body, as if just touching could soothe us both.
“According to the tech guys, it didn’t have any spyware or tracking apps.
The number that called you was the same one that texted your dad.
We’ve traced it, as well as the phone left at the watchtower, to a batch of burners bought from a box store in LA.
Judge Farling has already issued a warrant, and I’ve asked Coop to swing by the store this morning and grab the surveillance videos and purchase records on our behalf before he heads here tonight. ”
“Cooper’s coming?” Beckett asked, and Wylee nodded.
“Told him I needed all the hands I could get.”
Hope flared. Wylee’s son was a detective with the LAPD.
He hadn’t lived in Rivers since he’d graduated from high school, but he visited often enough that everyone in town still knew him.
He’d become something of a hometown hero over a decade ago after he’d saved a movie star from a stalker, and the media had become obsessed with the relationship that had bloomed in the aftermath.
Maybe his experience with situations like this might give him some insight into what was going on here.
Maybe he could give new ideas to his father and Josh.
“You got any more leads?” Beckett demanded, and I could practically feel his irritation through our connected bodies. “Or are we pinning our hopes on a box store’s security cam?”
The sheriff ignored Beckett’s sarcasm. “If you’d told me about Carter pushing his development sooner, I would have looked harder at him. Instead, I’ve been playing catch-up.”
“I didn’t think anything about Carter’s offer. It didn’t raise any red flags because Dad and I have had multiple offers over the years, just like I’m sure Lewis has.”
“Well, I went by his place this morning, and he insists he was with Delilah the night Maisey was attacked in your driveway. He said he’d give me the receipts for the restaurant in Visalia where they had dinner.
I’ll pull video footage to confirm it, but he also wasn’t in town yesterday.
He was in Tulare, scoping out alternative building sites for his development, seeing as you and Lewis refuse to sell.
I’m working on a warrant for his phone. If we can confirm it pinged off the towers near Tulare, we’ll be able to confirm his story. ”
The slight hope I’d felt started to fade again. If Carter and Delilah had alibis, we were back to nothing. Back to zero leads. Frustration bloomed, and tears pricked my eyes.
“But how can we be sure Carter was really in Tulare and not just his phone?” Beckett asked. “He and Delilah could be working together, right? Or he could have had his assistant take the phone out of town to ensure it pinged elsewhere.”
Wylee stroked his beard. “You’re not wrong, but all we can do is follow the leads one step at a time. I can’t lock him in a cell just because you suspect he might be behind this.”
My frustration finally leaked out of me, and I threw my hands up. “So what? We just allow them to keep coming at us while we wait? While more people I love get hurt?!”
“I understand how you’re both feeling—”
“No. I don’t think you do, Sheriff,” Beckett bit out. “If this were Lydia, would you only be taking these careful, measured steps, or would you be burning the fucking town down to make sure she was protected? That the person who attacked her was behind bars?”
The sheriff’s face darkened. “Don’t use my wife against me, son.
We’re doing what we can, within the law, so we can put this bastard away for good when we finally arrest him.
If it were Lydia, I’d want the same thing.
I’d want the asshole locked up with no loophole allowing him to escape.
So yes, I’d still be doing things by the book, but I’d also make sure I didn’t let her out of my sight. ”
The men glared at each other for a long moment before Wylee’s face softened, and he sighed. “Between you, Parker’s team, and my men, we have Maisey covered. Cleaver is on his way here as we speak. He’s hardly slept since this all started.”
I hated this. Hated every second of this. The burden I was to the people around me. The threat hovering over all my loved ones. The guilt dragging me down into the abyss.
“Forgive me if I don’t want to put Maisey’s life in the hands of Carter’s cousin.” The sarcasm and doubt in Beckett’s voice pushed Wylee right back over the edge.
“Now, you listen. Josh Cleaver is a good man and good deputy—”
As the voices raised, Vader barked, easing up next to Beckett with the hair on his nape rising. And all that pain I’d been holding back tried to slam back into me.
“Stop!” I shouted, instantly regretting it. Quieter and calmer, I repeated, “Please stop.”
Remorse instantly washed over Beckett’s face, and he squeezed me to him tighter, but his guilt only ended up adding to mine.
The sheriff ran a hand over his white beard, and when he spoke, he was once again calmer.
“I’m not taking any of this lightly, Beckett.
It’s been difficult for me to find any department nearby willing to send officers to help us out due to the holiday, but Cooper is on his way, and the Steeles have sent more folks from their Vegas security team.
We’ve got Sweeney and his friends at your house, and I’ve been told the renters at the Helmers will be leaving this morning, so we can put someone there too. ”
I frowned. “Has anyone even really been staying at the Helmers’? We haven’t seen any cars all week.”
Wylee flipped through his phone. “Yeah, it was rented by some movie production company that goes by the name Lost Acres Productions. Supposedly, the CEO and his girlfriend are here, but I worked out a deal with Fallon for a future stay at the resort if they agreed to cut their vacation short to help us out by leaving early.”
My stomach bottomed out as his words rang through my mind.
A movie production company.
A chill ran up my spine.
A man and his girlfriend.
No. No. It couldn’t be.
My voice shook as I asked, “What…what was the company name again?”
“Lost Acres.”
“Oh God…” I felt all the blood leave my face, and the barn spun around me. I didn’t want it to be true. I could believe she’d leave childish notes… I could believe that much, but to actually attack me? Drug Dad? She wouldn’t have…
“Maise.” Beckett’s worry sifted through me.
The unknown number that had been bugging me seemed to swim before my eyes, and with a shaking hand, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, scrolling backward to the awful text she’d sent the day Beckett’s door had been painted.
When I found it, bile curled up my throat.
The number was only a few digits off the one that had sent Dad and me messages. Easily part of a batch of burners.
The trembling in my hand grew until it consumed my body. Until it shook loose the numbness I’d kept close since yesterday, ripping it completely aside. Hot fury filled in behind it.
Beckett saw my reaction, and he reached for me. “Maisey?”
Thousands of memories flooded me. The disgust in her tone. The cold words. The toxic gaslighting I’d wanted to believe was actually caring and worry.
Furious tears swarmed. I’d never felt rage this strong. Not ever. Not even when my therapist told me I had a right to be angry. Not even when she’d told me if I didn’t confront it, it would someday explode on me.
That day had arrived.
It was here in violent, living color, and I’d never be the same again.
“I know who’s doing this.”