Chapter 31
Rowan couldn’t get the encounter out of her head. Her heart was still racing.
When they were far enough away, she pointed to an empty parking spot on the side of the road. “Can you pull over for a minute?”
Wes slowed and glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
“I just need some air.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
She glanced around and saw no one. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He pulled over, and she opened the door. Fresh air immediately filled her lungs.
She hadn’t felt this panicky in a long time. But too much had happened, and it was all catching up with her. Her chest felt tight, and her head was spinning.
Wes climbed out and stood near her on the sidewalk. They were on the edge of town, away from the shops and closer to the county offices.
She hoped no one saw her here. She just needed to catch her breath.
“Rowan?”
She froze before turning.
Dale Harding strode closer, walking away from a dark pickup parked half a dozen spaces down the street. He wore an expensive jacket, designer jeans, and an easy smile.
Like they’d run into each other by accident on an ordinary morning.
Her stomach instantly tightened.
He crossed the sidewalk toward them at an unhurried pace.
Wes shifted beside her, the change in his stance subtle but protective.
Dale paused in front of them. “Heard you were in town.”
The warmth in his voice sounded practiced and deliberate.
Rowan remembered seeing that same smile in courtroom photos while Sarah’s murder trial unfolded. She hadn’t made it home for the trial, but she’d followed it carefully.
“Not sure if you remember me or not,” he said. “I’m—”
“I remember you.” She kept her voice even.
Something flickered behind his eyes. Approval maybe. Like he appreciated that she skipped pretending.
“That’s nice to hear.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered. “Your brother killed my sister.”
Wes stepped closer as if ready to hold her back if necessary.
“Now, now . . . that’s debatable.”
Her hands fisted as a million retorts came to her mind.
Wes touched her elbow, grounding her a moment. Since this conversation started, Rowan had felt him studying the exchange, building context in real time.
Dale glanced down the road. “Looks like your visit’s already getting attention.”
Despite the sunlight, Rowan felt cold.
Dale slipped one hand into the pocket of his jacket. “Tell Naomi I asked about my niece.”
She bristled, a sharp comeback on the tip of her tongue.
Before she could say anything, Wes squeezed her elbow.
In some situations, restraint was the best response—even though it didn’t feel like it at the moment.
Dale’s smile widened by a fraction. Then he nodded, calm and cordial, before stepping back toward his truck like a man without a single concern in the world.
Rowan watched him climb inside and pull into traffic.
Only after the truck disappeared did she realize how tightly she’d been holding herself.
Beside her, Wes finally spoke. “That was Richard’s brother?”
She continued to stare after his expensive truck. “Yes. His name is Dale. He’s a piece of work.”
“I’d have to agree.” Wes shook his head. “He was testing you.”
That was exactly what Dale Harding did. He tested doors before kicking them in.
Somehow, standing there on a crowded sidewalk in broad daylight, she felt less safe than she had in the woods the night before.
Rowan and Wes were ten minutes out of Blue Ridge Hollow before either of them spoke.
The town had fallen away behind them, the main street giving way to the county road and then mountain curves. Rowan had been watching the forest go past without really seeing it.
Her mind kept snagging on Dale Harding’s smile. And each time, anger grew hotter inside her. If she wasn’t careful, the white-hot fury would turn into an all-out eruption.
She couldn’t let that happen. An outburst wouldn’t help her case and would make her seem less sane.
She needed to think about something else.
She drew in a quick breath, and her thoughts turned to Wes. They’d talked a lot about her but not as much about him. “So, when did you start your company?”
“About fourteen months ago.”
“And before that you were a US Marshal, right? After you got out of the Marines.” She kept up with him when she could—mostly through talking to old friends from high school.
“That’s correct. New York district. Witness protection, mostly.”
She turned that over. Witness protection.
She’d played a character in a movie once who was in witness protection, and she’d had to do some research for the role. The specific skills required for that job—reading threat levels, relocating people, understanding how danger followed someone regardless of geography—were impressive.
“What made you leave?” she asked.
His gaze clouded for a moment. “It’s . . . well, it’s a long story. But I saw the system fail someone it shouldn’t have failed. And . . . I knew I was done.”
Rowan looked at him. “So you took matters into your own hands and started your own company.”
“I tried to take matters into my own hands.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m still trying.”
“Just one more thing to love about you.” As soon as the words left her lips, her cheeks reddened. She hadn’t meant to say that.
Which meant she needed a subject change—and quickly.
“Do you like Baltimore?”
“It’s not Virginia, but it’s central. I travel a lot for my job. It’s really just my home base.”
“How many people do you have working for you.”
“Fifty.”
Her eyes widened. “Fifty? I had no idea.”
“It’s grown faster than I ever anticipated.”
“And what do you do when you’re not working?” she asked.
“Besides hanging out with Remi?”
She grinned. “Yes, besides hanging out with your dog.”
He shrugged. “I work out. I play frisbee golf.”
“Frisbee golf?”
“It’s actually entirely more fun than real golf.”
She laughed. “You always hated golf. I remember your dad would always take you out.”
“Everyone thinks I should like it. I don’t.”
She looked back out the window at the mountains. This place felt like home entirely more than Hollywood ever had. She just hadn’t realized it until now.
However, she had no idea what to do with that realization, and she certainly couldn’t figure that out now. She had far more pressing problems.
“Can I ask you something?” Wes glanced at her.
“Sure.”
He kept his eyes on the road. “Hollywood . . . was it what you thought it would be?”
She thought about how to answer. “Parts of it.”
“And the rest of it?”
She looked at her hands. “The rest of it is . . . well, it’s probably not what most people think.
Hollywood changes you. But it’s not all at once.
It doesn’t work like that. It’s not one moment but a thousand small ones instead.
It’s a decision here and a compromise there.
You tell yourself each one is small enough not to matter. But they add up over time.”
Wes listened.
“Then one day you look up, and you don’t entirely recognize the person making the decisions.” Rowan swallowed hard, her throat burning. “I’ve made choices I’m not proud of. I’ve done things I told myself were necessary at the time. I’m not the same person who left here.” Her voice cracked.
She hadn’t meant to say that last part.
Or maybe she had.
Maybe that was exactly the thing she’d been carrying underneath everything else. Maybe it was the thing she’d been carrying underneath Vince and Thayer. Beneath the photograph and the mountain road.
In truth, her heaviest burden was the fact that she wasn’t the same person—and not in a good way. Coming back here had made her realize that.
Wes needed to know that truth. He especially needed to know that in case he still had any feelings for her.
He wouldn’t like the person she’d become. He deserved better than that.
After a moment of quiet, Wes finally said, “I don’t know who you are now. But I do know that you came back. That says a lot.”
How did she respond to that? She wasn’t sure.
So she didn’t.
She stayed quiet instead.
Refuge Cove came into view a few minutes later, and Wes turned in.
Whatever was waiting inside—her mom, lunch, the ordinary life of people she loved continuing around the extraordinary weight of everything she was carrying—she would walk in and make people believe whatever she wanted.
She was good at that.
She just wasn’t sure anymore whether being good at pretending was something to be proud of.