Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nysa
Things between Hopper and me are . . . strained. That’s the best way to describe it. A polite, practiced distance, like we’re both too afraid to step too close, too aware of the line we’ve been toeing for weeks now. We talk when we have to, exchange pleasantries like two people who barely know each other instead of whatever the fuck we were becoming.
But it’s not real. It’s forced.
And I know I started it.
The moment Atlas reminded me of who Hopper was—is—something inside me recoiled. He’s a Timberbridge. His father’s son.
But then I look at him, and all I see is the man he is now. A father. Someone who holds Maddie’s hand like she’s his whole world. Who works himself to exhaustion. But when he’s home, he has the energy to play with her, to cook, and to be the best father he can be for his child. Hopper is nothing like Timberbridge Senior. Nothing.
And yet, I keep telling myself he might be.
Because it’s easier than admitting what’s happening to me. Because if I hold onto that, then maybe I won’t get attached. And if I don’t get attached, I won’t fall.
And falling for him?
It would be reckless. Dangerous. Stupid.
So I do the only thing I know how to do—I run. The second he pulls into the driveway, I’m already moving. I mutter a see you tomorrow and slip out the door like something is chasing me.
Hopper doesn’t stop me. Maybe that’s the worst part. He just watches, letting the space between us stretch wider and wider, like he’s retreating just as much as I am. Like we both know whatever this was—this push and pull, this flirting, this thing where we keep ending up too close, too breathless—is unraveling.
The almost-kisses.
The way his eyes would drop to my mouth when I spoke, like he was memorizing the way I shaped words. Like he was guessing if I taste like strawberries or sin. The way his fingers would brush my wrist when he passed me something, a second too long, like he wasn’t ready to let go.
The alone time we spent when Maddie was asleep and we weren’t saying anything, but we were existing next to each other.
It’s all slipping away, and neither of us are fighting for it. Maybe because we know it’s already lost, or maybe because I’m afraid of losing it since it’s probably not real. Either way, it’s better this way, isn’t it?
The drive back to my grandmother’s house is quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of trees lining the road. The sky is soft with the last remnants of daylight, streaks of orange and pink stretching across the horizon, casting long shadows over the sleepy town of Birchwood Springs.
It should be peaceful.
It should feel like home.
Instead, there’s a weight pressing against my chest, something uneasy settling deep in my bones. It’s knowing that there’s still danger close by. Knowing that I can’t just run away or this time they’ll follow. Knowing that whatever I feel is an illusion—except the danger.
I try to shake it off, telling myself it’s just the exhaustion from spending the day taking care of Maddie. She had been a ball of energy. I think I got my cardio for an entire year just today—and I don’t do cardio unless someone is chasing me.
I finally pull into my grandmother’s driveway, cutting the engine. The house is dark except for the porch light glowing softly, casting a golden hue over the wooden steps.
I reach for my bag, but something catches my eye—something small, sitting at the edge of the porch.
A stuffed pony.
Lala.
My heart stops.
The soft, well-loved toy is unmistakable. Maddie had been clutching it earlier, dragging it around the house, refusing to go anywhere without it. She had fallen asleep with it tucked beneath her tiny arm. And now it’s here, on my grandmother’s porch.
The air in my lungs turns shallow as a cold wave of dread crashes over me. I force myself to move. I approach the porch, my eyes darting to the door. It’s shut. Locked, just as I left it. Grandma should be at her knitting club, just like she mentioned earlier. She’s safe , I repeat to myself several times.
But I don’t believe it. The air feels different. Wrong. I crouch down, hesitating before reaching for the stuffed pony. The fabric is cool from the evening air. Why is it here?
No, the question isn’t how, it’s who. Who took it from Maddie and placed it here?
Someone had been inside Hopper’s house while I was there, and not just that—someone had been inside Maddie’s room. The realization slams into me like a punch to the gut. My breathing quickens, my pulse pounding in my ears as I fumble for my phone with shaking fingers.
I don’t hesitate. I go through my contacts and once I find it, I press the call button.
“Nysa?” Malerick’s voice is sharp, alert, like he had been waiting for something to happen.
“Mal,” I breathe out, gripping the porch railing for support. “Someone’s been inside the house.”
“Which house?” he asks. “I need you to take a deep breath, Nysa. Where are you?”
“I’m outside my grandmother’s . . . I arrived and . . . someone placed it here.” I am trying to put my thoughts into words but it’s not happening. I’m shaking; this fear isn’t for me, but Maddie.
There’s a beat of silence before his voice turns deadly calm. “Are you inside?”
“No,” I whisper, forcing myself to steady my voice. “I just got here. The door is locked, but . . .” I stare at the stuffed pony in my hand. “Lala was on the porch.”
“Lala?” he asks sounding confused, as if this is a prank call and I’m losing my shit. “Listen, I know things are a little?—”
“Lala, Maddie’s stuffed animal,” I cut him off, finally finding my ground because this is important. My little girl could be in danger. Maybe they have them. “Hopper, you need to make sure he’s okay.”
Mal swears under his breath. “Get back in your car. Don’t go inside. I’m on my way.”
“Hopper and Maddie,” I repeat.
“No worries, I’m already checking on the cameras around them,” he sighs. “Fuck, I knew we should’ve placed cameras in your grandmother’s home. Let me check with security. Who the fuck is shadowing you?”
Shadowing me? I don’t ask out loud though, all I do is press Lala close to my chest. Seconds later, a guy approaches me. Tall, rugged, scary, and I know I’m dead.
“You shouldn’t be touching evidence,” he states.
“Excuse me?” I finally find the strength to move, taking a step backward.
He points at the stuffed animal. “That might have fingerprints,” he states.
“Who are you?”
“He’s the agent in charge of your security,” Mal says through the phone line. “Knowing he’s there makes me breathe easier. Don’t go inside the house yet. We’ll be there.”
“Maddie. You should be checking on her. Are they okay?” I ask one more time, or maybe for the first time I can do it out loud. I’m not sure, I’ve lost track of what I’m doing or where I’m at. All I want to do is run to them, make sure they’re fine.
They’re in danger. Whoever did this wanted me to see it. They wanted me to know they were inside. That they had been near Maddie. The thought makes my stomach churn. Not only that, they know how important she is to me.
“Mr. Timberbridge is fine,” the guy—I still don’t know his name—states. “You need to go back in the car until I get reinforcements and we can go through the house.”
“Listen to him,” Mal states. “Hopper and Maddie are fine. I can confirm that. I’ll see you soon.”
Knowing that Hop and Mads are fine, I follow their orders and get in my car. The man who apparently is my shadow is looking around. Why didn’t I see him before though? Has he been following me everywhere? I don’t plan to ask right now, maybe later. I knew there was security, but someone following me all the time is weird.
Soon, red and blue lights flash against the trees as Malerick’s cruiser pulls into the driveway, another unmarked car close behind. The second the car stops, Mal is out, moving toward me in long, purposeful strides.
I shove the door open before he can reach me, my grip still tight on Lala.
He takes one look at my face and curses. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but the movement is stiff, my whole body still too tense. “I don’t know. They were close to Maddie, Malerick. Maddie . They were inside the house when I was there.”
His eyes flick down to the toy in my hands. His jaw clenches. “Inside?”
I nod. “She had it when I left Hopper’s.”
Four people and Mal begin to check the perimeter. The guy who’s in charge of my security stays next to me. They come back and there’s nothing outside. Everything is clear. Then we go inside. The door is locked. Still locked. Maybe nobody entered, but they want to take precautions before I stay inside.
I swallow hard as Mal unlocks the door, pushing it open carefully. The air inside is still, but something about it feels off. We step inside, and my stomach twists. It looks normal. The furniture, the pictures on the wall, the blanket draped over the couch.
Mal walks ahead of me, his steps slow, calculated. He clears the living room first, then the kitchen. The hallway.
Nothing.
We check the rest of the house together, but nothing is missing. Nothing is taken. But when we get to my bedroom, my breath catches. The closet door is slightly ajar. I know for a fact that I shut it before I left.
I glance at Mal, my grip tightening on the stuffed pony. “Someone was in here.”
He moves forward, pushing the closet door open with the tip of his boot.
Nothing.
But that doesn’t mean they weren’t here.
That doesn’t mean they didn’t watch.
Mal doesn’t let me stay in the house.
After we’ve gone through everything, after the officers have dusted for prints—though we both know they won’t find anything—he drives me to Hopper’s, saying he’ll figure out the rest later. My grandmother will stay with her friend. He’ll make sure she’s safe. Tomorrow they’ll have a security system installed in her house. This is the last time he listens to an old lady when he’s trying to do his fucking job—his words.
I don’t argue.
Because as much as I don’t want to need help, as much as I don’t want to rely on anyone . . .
I don’t want to be alone.
I clutch Lala tighter in my hands, my stomach twisting with a realization I don’t want to say out loud.
Whoever did this . . .
They weren’t here for me, but for Maddie. That terrifies me more than anything else.