Chapter 21
Naomi thanked Micah for paying for the meal. Then the two of them walked out together into the cold.
She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as the wind hit them. Then she stood on the sidewalk a moment, just breathing.
She wanted to go home. Wanted to hold Grace and feel the weight of her and remind herself that this was real—that the baby was safe and hers to protect.
For now.
If she was smart, she’d remind herself to keep her distance. But that was easier said than done.
She glanced at Micah as he stood beside her with his hands in his pockets, scanning the street with that quiet, watchful attention he never seemed to turn off.
She was glad he was here. Glad in a way that went beyond the fact he was sheriff. This was something else.
He was on her side—and he was a good person to have in her corner.
“Thank you again,” she said. “For lunch. For all of it.”
“Anytime.”
Naomi nodded and turned toward her SUV.
That was when she saw a piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper—white against the dark glass, fluttering slightly in the breeze.
Her steps slowed.
Micah noticed immediately. “What is it?”
She walked closer, her pulse quickening with each step.
She reached for the paper, but Micah’s hand caught her wrist—gentle but firm.
“Let me,” he said.
He pulled a glove from his pocket, slipped it on, and carefully lifted the paper from beneath the wiper.
His jaw tightened as he read the words there.
“What does it say?” Naomi asked, though part of her didn’t want to know.
Micah turned the paper so she could see.
The handwriting was blocky, deliberate:
DON’T TAKE WHAT’S NOT YOURS
Her breath caught. She stared at the note, her mind racing through possibilities. The land. Grace. The dog. Everything.
“Who . . . ?” She stopped, then started again. “Travis? Or—”
“I don’t know. Could be either. Or someone else entirely.”
He pulled out his phone and took several photos of the note. Then he carefully refolded it and slipped it into an evidence bag he’d pulled from his jacket.
Naomi wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite her coat.
Micah’s hand settled briefly on her shoulder. “I’m following you home.”
It wasn’t a question.
Naomi nodded, not trusting her voice.
She climbed into her SUV with shaking hands and locked the doors.
In her rearview mirror, she watched Micah head toward his SUV, phone already at his ear and the note secured in his other hand.
The knot in her chest pulled tighter.
Someone was watching. Waiting.
And they wanted her to know it.
Micah stayed close behind Naomi the entire drive.
His hands stayed loose on the wheel, but his attention was sharp, scanning every vehicle they passed, every truck parked on the shoulder, every side road that could hide someone waiting.
The note sat on the passenger seat beside him, sealed in the evidence bag.
DON’T TAKE WHAT’S NOT YOURS
The words circled in his mind, turning over and over, trying to find purchase.
Travis Henderson. He was the obvious culprit. The land dispute, the escalating harassment, the way he’d been watching Naomi outside The Grind House like he had all the time in the world.
But Richard Harding’s name kept surfacing too. Richard had people. Family. Supporters who’d stood by him through the trial and never wavered.
Either way, someone was getting bolder.
And Naomi was caught in the middle.
His jaw tightened.
The familiar weight settled in his chest—the same weight he’d carried since Caroline died. The knowing that being close wasn’t always close enough. That you could do everything right and still be too late.
Not this time.
The iron gate at Refuge Cove came into view, and Naomi’s SUV slowed. She entered the code, waited for the gate to swing open, and pulled through.
Micah followed.
She parked near the garage and cut the engine. Micah pulled in beside her and stepped out into the cold.
Naomi was already out of her vehicle, keys in hand, but she didn’t move toward the house. Instead, she waited for him.
He crossed to her. “Naomi, I need you to promise me something.”
She looked up at him, eyes wary.
“Don’t go anywhere without me. Not for a while. Not until we figure out who left that note.”
Her brows drew together. “Micah, you have a job. You can’t just—”
“Part of my job is keeping this community safe. Right now, that means keeping you safe.”
“You can’t be everywhere.”
“No. But I can be here.” He held her gaze. “Promise me.”
She hesitated, and he saw her working through his proposal. Sorting through the independence she valued, the practicality of what he was asking, and the reality of what that note meant.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I promise.”
Something in his chest loosened—though just barely. “Thank you.”
“Grace has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning at nine.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“Okay then.” She gave him a small, tired smile and turned toward the house.
Micah watched her go—watched until she was inside, until the door closed behind her, until he was sure she was safe behind those walls.
Then he got back in his SUV.
He could send a deputy to pull the security footage from Main Street. It would be the smart thing, the efficient thing. Let someone else handle the grunt work while he coordinated from the station.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
This was personal now. Someone had threatened Naomi—had stood at her vehicle, had written those words with the intention of scaring her. Micah was going to be the one who found out who.
He pulled out of the driveway and headed back toward town.
Whoever had left that note had made a mistake.
They’d underestimated how far Micah was willing to go to protect someone he—
He stopped the thought before it could finish.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was finding answers.
He pressed the accelerator and didn’t look back.