Chapter 4
Dexter
I watch Lexy walk out and ignore the gut feeling clawing at me, the one I’ve been fighting since the moment I told her she wasn’t getting the job.
I know she needs it.
I know she’s hungry for it, desperate in that quiet, stubborn way that never begs but still aches beneath the surface. And I know she would’ve learned. Would’ve gotten better. Fast.
But I can’t.
I drag a hand over my jaw, exhaling hard through my nose, then shake my head once and walk over to Stephen.
“I’m going to dinner at my parents’,” I tell him. “You okay to close up?”
Stephen nods, then hesitates. “You fired her?”
I nod once. “Can’t have anyone make that many mistakes in a day.”
He doesn’t look convinced. Not even a little.
“I spilled beer all over a customer, brought the wrong bills to the wrong tables, and forgot to charge food to two tables on my first day,” he says evenly. “And I’m still here.”
The irritation sparks fast and sharp, heat flaring under my skin before I can temper it.
“You questioning my decision, Stephen?”
He holds my gaze for a beat too long, then shakes his head. “No, boss.”
I nod and turn away. I’m done with this conversation.
But his words follow me anyway, settling in my chest, lingering longer than they should as I drive out to my parents’ ranch and B&B.
When I pull in, I shut off the truck and just sit there, hands still on the wheel, fingers tightening slightly against the worn leather. I let out a long breath.
I did what I needed to do.
Lexy, she…
My jaw tightens, and I stare straight ahead at the darkening outline of the ranch.
As much as I wanted to give her another chance, I couldn’t.
Because I can’t work with someone who makes me feel this… wrong.
This off balance.
This aware.
Someone who gets under my skin without even trying, who makes my instincts louder than they should be and my control feel thinner than I’m comfortable with.
No.
I did the right thing.
I have to believe that.
Because the second I don’t, I already know I’ll be turning this truck around.
I get out of my truck and light a cigarette.
“You coming in, asshole? We’re starving, and Mom won’t let us start without you!” Ethan growls.
I just smile at him and show him my middle finger. He shakes his head and walks back inside.
As much as I want to take my time, I don’t. It’s freezing, and my fingers are already numb.
Inside, the smell of roast beef and cornbread hits me. My mama makes her way over.
“How’s my boy doing?”
Her hands come around me, and I let out a breath. Her hugs always have the power to ground me.
“I’m not a boy, Mama. I’m okay. Missed you, though.”
I pull back, wink, and kiss her cheek.
I walk into the dining room and find everyone already sitting.
“Uncle Dex!”
Mia jumps up and runs toward me. I catch her and swing her around.
This little girl has stolen my heart, and I don’t mind one bit.
“How’s my favorite princess today?”
Mia chatters happily as she pulls me toward the table and forces me to sit next to her. My eyes catch Penny staring at me, then glancing at Summer.
“Evening, gorgeous ladies. How are you?” I tease, knowing my brothers hate it when I compliment their wives.
Penny elbows a growling Cas, while Summer tries not to laugh.
“Hello, Dex,” Summer smiles warmly.
I love how my brothers’ wives just fit into the chaos of our family.
My mom joins us at the table, Dad says grace, and we dig in. I glance at the two empty seats and feel a pang. Grace at college. Jace chasing bulls for adrenaline.
“So, Lexy,” Penny starts, catching my attention. “How did her first day go?”
I frown. “How do you know her name?”
Penny looks at Summer, then back at me, a small smile playing on her lips. Something’s going on here.
“She came by the café this morning. Such a sweet girl… gorgeous too.”
Dread coils in my stomach.
I jump in to redirect. “It didn’t work out, so I let her go. Busy day at the café?”
Summer purses her lips.
Before she can answer, Mama studies me. “Who is this girl?”
I fight the urge to look away. “No one, Mama. Just a girl who wanted a job, but she wasn’t any good.”
Penny leans slightly forward, her expression soft but firm. “You let her go?”
I sigh. “I can’t afford mistakes. Too many errors.”
Penny isn’t convinced. Ethan chimes in, reprimanding me gently.
“First-day errors are normal. Summer said she could use a hand.”
Mama and Dad exchange glances with me, Jude’s knowing eyes boring into mine. He sees the struggle inside me.
“She was in front of the café at six-thirty, no car, in the cold,” Summer explains. “When I told her I’d open at seven, she wanted to sit on the bench to wait. Cold and alone. I let her in, and that’s when I noticed the bruises around her neck.”
Cas leans forward, sheriff instincts kicking in. “Where does she live?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to see if she was worth hiring, but I never got to the paperwork.”
“She’s running,” Penny says, glancing between me and Mama. My chest tightens under her gaze. “I don’t know, I just… she reminds me so much of me when I first came here. Staying safe was all that mattered.”
Mama looks concerned. “That poor girl, I hope she has somewhere to stay.”
Penny wrings her hands. “Can you find her, Cas? I can offer her a position at the photo studio if she needs it.”
“No,” I say firmly.
All eyes turn to me.
“I’ll find her tomorrow and offer her the job back if she wants it.”
Mama nods. “You see if that girl needs help, Dexter. If you can’t hire her, we’d love to help.”
“No need, Mama. I’ll take care of it,” I insist, my jaw tight.
I glance at Jude. He gives a small nod, understanding.
? ? ?
After dinner, after promising Mama more than once that I’d let her know about Lexy, I make my way back to my apartment above the bar.
I get out, light up a cigarette, and stop in my tracks.
The parking lot is empty except for my truck and a small, beat-up Ford Ranger.
I walk closer, slower now, something in my chest tightening with every step.
The windows are fogged.
I move to the driver’s side and peer in. Nothing.
Then I circle toward the back.
Blankets. A guitar case. A pile of pillows shoved together like someone trying to build something out of nothing.
And then I see it.
The blankets are moving.
Shaking.
Something cold and sharp drops low in my stomach.
“Fuck,” I mutter, already moving.
I reach the passenger side and grab the handle. Locked.
I tap hard against the glass. “Lexy. Open up.”
Nothing.
The shaking doesn’t stop.
I move around to the driver’s side, yanking on the handle. Still locked. My grip tightens, frustration and something far too close to panic rising fast in my chest.
She’s in there.
Alone.
Freezing.
My jaw clenches as I stare through the glass, finally catching a glimpse of her face beneath the blankets, pale, damp hair clinging to her temples, her body trembling like she can’t control it anymore.
Damn it.
I yank the handle again. Locked.
“Fuck.”
I run.
I sprint back to my truck, grab the tire iron from the back, and slam the door shut behind me.
By the time I’m back at her window, my pulse is pounding too hard, too fast.
“Lexy. Open the door.”
Nothing.
I don’t wait.
I wedge the metal between the frame and the glass and force it.
Something gives with a sharp crack.
The door swings open.
How long has she been out here?
I climb in quickly, trying not to jostle her, but there’s nothing careful about the way my chest tightens at the feel of her freezing body.
“Lexy,” I murmur, shaking her gently. “Come on. Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused, fever-bright. She tries to sit up and fails, collapsing back into the blankets.
“Hey. Easy.” My voice drops without thinking. “I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t fight it when I pull her into my arms.
Too light.
Too cold.
Her head falls against my shoulder, her body still trembling, and something in my chest locks up hard and fast.
“Lexy,” I murmur, more firmly now. “It’s me, Dex. I’m taking you inside.”
She makes a weak sound but doesn’t resist.
I lift her carefully out of the car, holding her close as I carry her up to my apartment above the bar. Inside, I lay her down on the couch and pull a blanket over her.
“Don’t worry,” I say quietly as I run my hand over her forehead. She’s burning up. “I’ll call a doctor. You’re not staying out there anymore. You’re safe now.”
She murmurs something I can’t make out, her voice barely there, and I brush a strand of hair away from her face without thinking.
My hand stills for a second longer than it should.
Then I pull it back, jaw tightening as I straighten.
I shouldn’t have let her go.
? ? ?
Alexis
Everything hurts.
I know I’m being carried. Voices drift in and out, low and steady, but I can’t hold onto the words. The cold fades, replaced by warmth that seeps slowly into my skin, but my body keeps shaking like it hasn’t gotten the message yet.
My eyes are too heavy to open, my limbs too weak to move, and when I try, everything slips away again, pulling me under.
Darkness takes over.
When I finally stir, the world feels softer. Warmer.
The air smells faintly of cedar-wood, sage, and smoke. My head rests against something solid, steady beneath me, and my body is cocooned in blankets, the heat easing some of the ache buried deep in my bones.
“Tinker… stay with me, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I recognize that voice, low and steady.
Dex .
It settles into me, anchoring something loose and drifting inside my chest.
I try to open my eyes. Light filters through a window somewhere, blurred and dim, and I blink against it, my lashes heavy. The room comes into focus in pieces, edges soft, everything slightly tilted.
“You’re burning up.”
Something cool presses against my forehead, and I flinch faintly before the relief sinks in. His hand moves with quiet certainty, adjusting the cloth, his other hand steady near my shoulder like he’s making sure I’m still here.
“I had to get you inside,” he says. “You can’t stay out there like that. Why didn’t you tell me you had nowhere to go?”
I want to tell him I’m fine. That I can handle it. That I don’t need anything.
But my throat burns, my body won’t cooperate, and the words don’t come.
So I don’t fight it.
I let him take over.
Time slips in and out. I don’t know how long he stays there, adjusting the blankets, keeping that quiet, steady presence close. Every time I drift too far, his voice pulls me back just enough to keep me from disappearing completely.
“I called Dr. Sloane,” he says after a while, his voice calm, grounded. “He came by, checked you over. Fever and a touch of hypothermia from being out in the cold. Nothing serious, but you need to rest. Three days, at least.”
I blink slowly, trying to follow, but everything feels thick, like I’m moving through water.
A sound reaches me, quiet, almost swallowed by the room.
“I’m sorry.”
My chest tightens.
Did he just…?
The words echo strangely in my head, stretching and shifting until I don’t know if they were real or just something my fever made up.
I try to move, but my limbs feel like they belong to someone else, heavy and unresponsive. My hand barely lifts before falling back against the blanket.
“I’ve got you,” Dex says, closer now.
I feel it before I fully register it, the shift of his weight, the warmth of him near me, one hand steady at my arm as he adjusts the blanket around me with the other, careful but firm, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Don’t try to get up,” he says, quieter now. “Just rest. I’ll take care of you.”
Care .
The word settles deep, unfamiliar and unsettling in a way I don’t quite understand.
I’ve been running for so long, holding everything together on my own, taking care of everyone else, that the idea of someone taking care of me feels almost wrong.
But my body doesn’t argue.
It sinks into it.
I hear him move through the apartment. Water running. Fabric shifting. The soft rhythm of someone staying close without making a big deal of it.
“Open your mouth, Tinker. You need to take your antibiotic,” he whispers.
I do as he says.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and somehow that makes me relax.
My breathing slows as I look into his green eyes.
A finger runs gently over my cheek.
I hold onto that.
I don’t know what he’s apologizing for.
But it settles over me anyway, quiet and steady, like something I didn’t know I needed.
My eyes close again.
And this time, I don’t fight it.
The warmth, the steady presence, the quiet around me, it pulls me under slowly, gently, until everything fades.
? ? ?
Something is wrong.
My breath catches, chest tightening as the warmth twists into something suffocating, something I know too well.
I’m not safe anymore.
I’m fourteen again.
The room is too small. The air too thick. The walls pressing in until I can’t breathe right.
A shadow moves.
Too close.
Too familiar.
My stomach knots, panic rising fast, clawing its way up my throat as I try to move, try to get away, but my body won’t listen.
I’m paralyzed.
Then hands on my leg, not gentle or soft.
It hurts.
My breath locks in my chest…
I jerk awake.
A scream tears out of me before I can stop it, my whole body snapping tight, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might split my chest open.
“Shh, shh, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a fever dream.”
The voice cuts through everything, low and steady, grounding.
Strong hands find my shoulders, firm but careful, holding me in place without forcing me down.
“I’m here. Nothing can hurt you.”
I suck in a breath that burns all the way down, my lungs struggling to catch up as I shake under the blankets.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t.
I don’t want to.
But then I breathe in.
Cedarwood. Smoke. Something warm and steady.
Real .
My eyes snap open.
Dex is right there.
Close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw, the focus in his eyes, the way his hands stay steady on me like he’s bracing for me to fall apart.
My breathing stutters, then slows, each inhale a little less sharp than the last.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs again, quieter now, one hand sliding up to the back of my neck, steadying me as I tremble. “You’re safe.”
The word lands differently this time.
Safe .
I don’t remember the last time I felt that.
The room settles around me, the faint hum of the heater, the weight of the blankets, the steady presence in front of me keeping everything from spinning too far out of control.
His hand presses briefly to my forehead, checking, grounding, before his thumb brushes lightly over my cheek.
Then he pulls back.
Just enough.
Like he’s remembering himself.
I watch him stand, the quiet scrape of his boots against the wooden floor.
I curl back under the blankets, pulling them close, letting the warmth sink deeper into my bones.
The fear lingers, faint and distant now.
But it doesn’t follow me all the way down this time.