Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Maeve
I wake to warmth, to quiet, to the smell of cedar and skin and something that feels like peace.
The curtains are still drawn, but sunlight still finds its way through. Graham’s arm is draped over my waist, heavy and comforting, his hand resting against my stomach. Every slow breath he takes moves through me like a rhythm I never want to lose.
I lie still, not ready to break the moment. His body is solid behind mine, a steady wall of heat. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, can hear the faint rasp of his breath against my shoulder. It feels safe in a way that’s almost unreal.
My whole life, I’ve waited to feel this kind of calm. To wake up and not flinch at the silence.
I turn slowly in his arms until I can see his face. His hair is messy, curling against his forehead. There’s a faint scrape of stubble on his jaw, and a crease from the pillow runs down his cheek.
As he wakes, he blinks once, catches me staring, and a sleepy smile curves his mouth. “You’re still here,” he murmurs.
“Where else would I be?”
“Wasn’t sure if I dreamed it.”
I smile and touch his face, tracing that crease down his cheek with my thumb. “Not a dream.”
He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my wrist. “Good.”
We stay like that for a while, trading small touches and quiet smiles. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes dark and lazy. When he leans in and kisses me, it’s slow, unhurried, full of warmth. The kind of kiss that says more than words ever could.
When we finally get up, I pull on another one of his shirts and walk barefoot to the kitchen. He’s half-dressed behind me, grabbing his coffee mug, watching me move like he’s trying to memorize it.
“You’re staring,” I tease.
“Just making sure you’re real.”
“I get that a lot,” I say lightly, but the truth is my chest aches at how serious he sounds.
He grins faintly and shakes his head. “You don’t make things easy.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
He laughs once under his breath. “I guess you really aren’t.”
The moment is easy, familiar. I pour him coffee, then grab mine, and step out onto the porch to take in the morning. The air smells like pine and wood smoke. The forest beyond the cabin glows gold in the rising sun.
For the first time in months, I feel like I can breathe.
Then I see it.
A white piece of paper, fluttering against the windshield of Graham’s truck.
I frown, stepping closer. My name is written across the front—neat, deliberate. The handwriting is so familiar my stomach flips.
No. No, no, no. My pulse kicks hard as I tear it free and unfold it.
You can’t just disappear. We need to talk. You owe me that.
The words blur. The world tilts a little. I grip the edge of the truck to steady myself. He found me.
I don’t remember walking back into the cabin. I just know my hands won’t stop shaking as I shove clothes into my duffel. Jeans, shirts, toothbrush — it doesn’t matter what I grab, only that I have to go.
The door opens behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” Graham’s voice is low, rough, edged with something sharper.
“I have to go,” I blurt out, shoving the zipper closed.
He steps into the room, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“I shouldn’t have come here. I thought I was safe, but—” My breath catches. “He knows. He found me.”
Graham looks from me to the bag, then to the folded paper on the counter. He picks it up, reads it once, twice, his jaw tightening with each word.
“He came here?” His voice drops an octave.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
His eyes flash dark. “Maeve.”
“I can’t stay, Graham. If he followed me here…” I trail off, fear taking over.
“The hell you can’t.”
“I can’t put you in danger!”
He steps forward so fast I stumble back. His hands land on my shoulders, firm but not rough. “You listen to me. You’re not running. Not this time.”
“Graham.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve been looking over your shoulder for too long. You came here for a reason. I’m that reason.”
The words hit hard. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t stop. He won’t leave me alone.”
His tone is quiet but full of fire. “I’m not letting him within a mile of you.”
Tears blur my vision. I hate that he sees it, that he sees me falling apart.
“Hey,” he says softly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
“I am scared,” I whisper. “I’m terrified.”
“I know.”
He pulls against his chest, no hesitation, and I melt into him. His heartbeat thunders under my ear.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
My breath shakes, uneven, the panic spilling out in pieces. “What if he doesn’t stop?”
“Then he’ll answer to me.”
He steps away just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. His movements are controlled but sharp. He scrolls once, presses a name, and raises the phone to his ear.
“Ford,” he says, voice hard. “I need you and the sheriff at my place. Now.”
He listens for a moment, nods once. “Yeah. He left a note. Maeve’s safe for now, but I want this handled today.”
When he hangs up, I’m still shaking.
“Come here,” he says quietly.
I go. He pulls me into his arms again and holds me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head. His voice drops to a low rumble against my hair. “You don’t run from me, Maeve. You hear me? You can’t leave me.”
I nod, barely holding it together. “Okay.”
He keeps his hand on my back, grounding me with every slow breath. The weight of him, the heat of his skin, it all steadies me, little by little.
We stand like that until the sound of tires crunching on gravel breaks the silence.
Through the window, I see Ford’s truck pull up, the sheriff’s cruiser right behind. The sight sends another tremor through me, but Graham squeezes my hand.
“It’s going to be fine,” he says quietly. “They’ll help me take care of it.”
Ford steps out first, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. He nods once at Graham, then glances toward the house, his eyes sharp and serious. The sheriff joins him, holding a notepad, his expression grim.
Graham hands over the note, talks to them both in low tones I can’t make out. His posture is tense but calm, a man used to control and not losing it easily.
I watch from the doorway, blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders. I don’t even realize I’m crying until Graham turns and sees me.
He crosses the distance in a few strides, his expression softening as he reaches me.
“Hey,” he says, his thumb catching a tear I didn’t notice. “It’s handled. We’ll find him.”
“What if you don’t?”
“I will.” He says it without hesitation, and for the first time since opening that note, I believe him.
He pulls me close again, one hand at the back of my neck, the other pressed to my spine. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You’re home. I won’t let anyone take that from you.”
Something inside me finally gives. I bury my face against his chest and sob until the sound fades into hiccups. He doesn’t say anything else, just holds me until the trembling stops.
When I finally look up, his jaw is set, his eyes fierce and full of something that looks a lot like love.
I think about last night, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me like I was something worth keeping. I’m starting to believe it wasn’t just my fanciful thinking. I think he might have meant every bit of it.