Chapter 49 Delaney
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Delaney
I’m mid-shampoo when the phone rings.
“Are you kidding me?” I mutter, water streaming down my face as I fumble blindly for the conditioner and miss it completely.
The sound echoes faintly through the bathroom, bouncing off tile and steam and my fraying nerves. My heart jumps straight into my throat, because of course it does. My body hasn’t learned yet that ringing phones don’t automatically mean bad news.
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhale, and rinse faster than any human reasonably should.
“Just… five seconds,” I tell the phone as if it can hear me.
It keeps ringing.
I slap the water off, grab a towel, and step out dripping, leaving wet footprints across the floor as I lunge for the counter. The mirror is fogged. My hair is piled on my head in a lopsided knot. I look like a swamp creature who lost a fight with a bottle of shampoo.
The screen lights up.
Unknown Number.
My stomach drops.
“Of course,” I whisper. “Of course now.”
I wrap the towel tighter around myself and answer, breathless.
“Hello?”
“Delaney Rivers?” The voice is calm. Familiar. “This is Deputy Kurt Morgan.”
I blink.
Then immediately fumble the towel as relief slams into me so hard my knees nearly buckle.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Yes, hi. Sorry, I was… uh, indisposed.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
“I’ll keep this brief,” he says dryly. He’s learned not to ask follow-up questions in this town.
“Please,” I say, heart pounding anyway.
“I wanted to update you. Mr. Hale was served with the restraining order late last night.”
I sink onto the edge of the tub, water still dripping from my hair onto the mat.
“And?” I ask.
“There were no issues,” Morgan continues. “He complied. And shortly after being served, he left town.”
My breath stutters.
“Left town?”
“He boarded a flight back to New York early this morning,” Morgan confirms. “As of now, there’s no indication he plans to return.”
The bathroom feels suddenly very quiet.
“He’s… gone?” I whisper.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “The order is active and on record. If he violates it, you call immediately. But for now, this matter is handled.”
Handled.
The word settles into my chest slowly, like my body has to check every corner before it believes it.
“Thank you,” I say thickly. “For taking it seriously.”
“You did the right thing,” Morgan replies. “Take care of yourself.”
The call ends.
I stare at the phone in my hand for a long moment, water still sliding down my arms, towel slipping dangerously low.
Then I laugh.
Just once.
A startled, slightly hysterical sound that bounces off the tile.
“He’s gone,” I whisper to the empty bathroom.
I sit there for another beat, letting it sink in.
Then I grab the towel properly, wipe my face, and open the door.
Boone looks up immediately from the kitchen, concern already etched into his expression. “You okay?”
I nod, still a little dazed. “Yeah.”
Silas appears from nowhere, cereal bowl in hand. “You look like you wrestled a waterfall.”
“Deputy Morgan called,” I say.
Everything stops.
Caleb appears in the doorway.
“He was served,” I continue. “And he left. Went back to New York.”
Boone exhales, long and deep.
“The order?” he asks.
“Active,” I say. “Official.”
Silas lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”
Caleb nods once. “That’s good news.”
It is.
And standing there in a damp towel, hair a mess, heart finally unclenching, I realize something important:
Finally, nothing bad is waiting on the other end of the phone.
And that might be the best feeling of all.
The rest of the morning unfolds like the universe decided to try a different tone.
Less looming dread, more normal life.
Well, normal in Coyote Glen.
Silas declares the day “a legally binding emotional holiday” and immediately attempts to high-five Boone, who does not reciprocate on principle. Silas high-fives the air instead.
“Still counts,” he says.
Boone pours more coffee and sets a plate of toast in front of me like this is simply what you do when someone survives something terrifying. No fuss. Just sustenance.
“You sit,” he says.
I sit.
Sadie comes skidding into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair only half brushed, socks mismatched, energy dialed up to eleven. She takes one look at me and tilts her head.
“Why do you look like a happy sea monster?”
Silas chokes on his cereal.
“I was attacked by shampoo,” I say solemnly.
She accepts this. “Okay.”
Then she squints at the room. Boone’s too calm. Silas is vibrating. Caleb is leaning against the counter like he’s quietly monitoring everyone’s emotional stability.
“Why does it feel like something good happened?” she asks.
Silas beams. “Because justice, kid.”
She processes that for a full two seconds.
Then shrugs.
“Okay.”
And just like that, she reaches for the peanut butter as if her entire nervous system has collectively agreed to unclench.
My throat burns.
“Can we do something fun today?” she asks immediately.
Boone glances at me, then at Caleb, then at Silas, bracing for nonsense.
“What did you have in mind?” Boone asks carefully.
Sadie grins, feral and delighted. “Family day.”
Silas gasps. “She said the thing.”
Caleb mutters, “We are not making matching shirts.”
“No promises,” Silas replies.
So that’s what we do.
Nothing planned. Nothing productive.
Which somehow makes it perfect.
Sadie insists on giving me the official ranch tour, even though I’ve been here long enough to know where everything is.
Apparently, Moose the horse has “a new personality today,” and it must be witnessed immediately.
Caleb walks beside us, listening like this is serious business.
Boone trails behind, pretending he’s checking fences while very obviously staying close.
Silas narrates everything like a nature documentary.
“And here we see the wild Boone Taylor in his natural habitat,” he whispers loudly. “Emotionally repressed. Dangerously competent.”
Boone flips him off without looking.
We eat lunch outside. Sandwiches, fruit, chips straight from the bag. Silas tries to convince Sadie that chips count as vegetables because “they’re made from potatoes and potatoes are plants.”
“That’s not how nutrition works,” Caleb says.
Silas squints. “That sounds fake.”
Sadie laughs so hard she nearly drops her juice.
She laughs more today.
Really laughs.
The kind that comes from the belly, unguarded and loud. The kind that doesn’t keep checking over its shoulder.
She talks about school without hesitation now. About Micah. About a project she’s excited to work on. About how she wants to wear her favorite hoodie because it makes her feel brave.
“I think school will be good again,” she announces, mouth full of apple slices.
Boone stills.
“Yeah?”
She nods, confident. “Yeah. I’m not worried anymore.”
Boone visibly loosens.
Later, Sadie climbs into my lap without asking, curls against me like it’s instinct. This is where she belongs. Her head fits under my chin perfectly, warm and trusting.
“I like it when you’re here,” she says. “You’re going to stay forever.”
Not a question.
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. “I am.”
Marcus is gone.
The fear has loosened its grip.
And this place, this house, these people who argue about chips and hug without warning and show up without needing to be asked… it isn’t somewhere I’m hiding.
It’s somewhere I’m choosing.