Chapter 26
Naomi stepped outside with Good Boy at her heels, the cool air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the house.
The kennel sat off to the side of the property, a long, well-maintained building with individual runs extending out the back. The sound of barking carried faintly on the breeze, the noise familiar and comforting.
She pushed through the gate, and Good Boy trotted ahead, nose working overtime as he took in all the scents.
Hadley stood near one of the indoor kennels, crouched down and speaking softly to a border collie mix who pressed his nose against the chain-link. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore jeans and a fleece vest over a long-sleeved shirt—practical, ready to work.
“Hadley!”
Hadley turned, and her face lit. She straightened and opened her arms just as Naomi reached her.
They shared a tight hug. Hadley had always been more than a cousin—she’d been another sister, especially after Sarah died.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Naomi said into her shoulder.
“Me too.” Hadley pulled back, her hands still on Naomi’s arms, and studied her face. “You look good. Tired, but good.”
“Tired is accurate.”
Hadley’s gaze shifted past her, and Naomi turned to see Micah standing near the door, his hands in his pockets as he watched with that quiet, observant expression he always had.
“Hadley, this is Sheriff Micah Sutherland,” Naomi said. “Micah, my cousin Hadley Chase.”
Hadley stepped forward and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”
“Micah’s fine.” He shook her hand, his grip brief and polite. Then his gaze moved between the two of them, and something like amusement flickered across his face. “You two could pass for sisters.”
Naomi nodded. They both had dark hair, similar builds, the same shape to their eyes.
Hadley grinned. “We get that sometimes.”
Micah shifted his weight slightly. “Are you staying here at Refuge Cove?”
“No.” Hadley’s face brightened. “I actually just leased the old antique store building at the end of Main Street. You know the one with the big windows?”
Micah nodded. “The brick building. Been empty for a while.”
“That’s the one. I’m turning the downstairs into my clinic and living upstairs. It’s perfect—close to town, plenty of space, and the layout works really well for what I need.”
“That’s great,” Naomi said. “When do you open? Did you figure out a date yet?”
“Hopefully in a month or so. I’m still working on permits and getting everything set up, but I’m getting close.”
Good Boy chose that moment to pad over and press his nose against Hadley’s leg.
Hadley looked down, her expression brightening even more. “And who’s this?”
“That’s Good Boy,” Naomi said. “Temporary name. We found him on the road a few days ago. No collar, no tags.”
Hadley crouched and ran her hands over the dog’s head, then she checked his ears and teeth. “I’d guess he’s around two. Looks to be purebred and happy.”
“He’s a very happy dog—and well behaved, except for the fact he likes to jump on people.”
“He looks healthy and well-fed, like someone’s been taking care of him.”
“You know me,” Naomi murmured. “I’ve always had a soft spot for animals.”
“Yes, you have.” Hadley glanced up. “You want me to check if he’s chipped?”
“Can you? I mean, someone called and thinks Good Boy is his. But just in case the man is wrong . . .”
“Sure thing. I’ve got a scanner in my truck.” Hadley stood and headed toward the parking area. “Give me a sec.”
She returned a minute later with a small handheld device—sleek, compact, about the size of a TV remote. She knelt beside Good Boy and ran the scanner slowly over his shoulders and neck.
The device beeped.
“He’s chipped.” Hadley stared at the small screen.
“I’ll need to check the national registry to track down the owner’s contact info.
I can do that back at my clinic. The owners will receive notifications every day for ten days.
If they don’t respond—and if the guy coming says Good Boy isn’t his dog—you can claim him. ”
“Sounds good.” Naomi looked down at Good Boy. He sat at her feet, tail sweeping the ground, completely oblivious to the fact that his time here was running out.
One more day.
She’d have him for one more day, and then he might be gone.
How had he found a place in her heart so quickly? A week wasn’t long. Barely any time at all. But somehow the thought of him leaving felt like losing something she hadn’t realized she needed.
And if this was hard . . .
Her gaze drifted back toward the house, toward where Grace slept.
If losing the dog hurt this much, what would it be like when Grace was taken away?
The thought settled heavy in her chest.
She hated it. Hated the uncertainty. Hated that she was already bracing for loss, already preparing herself for the moment when someone would show up and say Grace didn’t belong to her anymore.
But she’d be wise to keep that thought at the forefront of her mind.
Because the alternative—letting herself believe Grace was hers to keep—would only make it worse when the inevitable happened.
Naomi reached down to rest her hand on Good Boy’s head.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of the app used to control the gate buzzing on her phone.
She stepped outside in time to see Caleb leaving the house and heading across the driveway.
“You expecting anyone?” Naomi called out.
Caleb kept walking, his expression already shifting into something more alert. “No, I’m not.”
Micah stepped out behind her and moved to catch up with Caleb. His body language had changed in an instant. His shoulders squared, and his hand drifted toward his hip in that instinctive way he had.
The buzzer sounded again.
Whoever was at the gate wasn’t going away.
Micah and Caleb crossed the yard together, their strides matching.
As they got closer and he saw the man who stepped from the truck, his jaw tightened.
“That’s Dale Harding,” Caleb said just loud enough for Micah to hear. “Richard’s brother.”
Maybe Micah shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.
They reached the gate and stopped a few feet back—close enough to talk, far enough to keep the barrier between them.
The man on the other side leaned casually against his truck, one ankle crossed over the other, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He straightened when he saw them approach and offered a warm, easy smile—the kind designed to disarm.
It didn’t work.
“Afternoon,” Dale said, his voice pleasant and unhurried. “Sorry to just drop by like this. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Caleb’s expression remained flat. “What can I do for you, Dale?”
Dale’s smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes—acknowledgment, maybe, that Caleb had recognized him. That the pretense of a friendly stranger wasn’t going to fly.
“Just wanted to stop by and say hello.” Dale pushed off from the truck and stepped closer to the gate, hands coming out of his pockets—open, visible, deliberately nonthreatening.
“You’ve never stopped by before to say hello.” Caleb didn’t mince words.
“I heard my niece is here,” Dale said. “Richard’s daughter.”
Caleb’s shoulders squared. “And?”
“And . . . I thought I’d come by. See how she’s doing. Check in.” Dale’s gaze moved past Caleb, scanning the property—the house, the kennels, the pond. Taking it all in. “Family, you know.”
The word hung in the air, deliberate and weighted.
Family.
Micah watched Dale. The man knew exactly what he was doing. Knew that word carried legal significance. Knew it would get under their skin.
“We do have a baby here,” Caleb said, his tone clipped. “But we’re not saying the child is Richard’s.”
“We all know she is,” Dale stated. “We’re just concerned about the child’s well-being.”
“I’m not confirming anything,” Caleb said. “But the child is doing fine.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dale nodded, as if Caleb had just confirmed something he’d been wondering about. “Really good. I just—I’d like to meet her if that’s possible. Even for a minute. She’s my niece, after all.”
“No.” Caleb’s response was simple and final.
Dale’s smile thinned. “Look, I understand there’s been tension between our families. But that baby didn’t do anything wrong. And neither did I. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Like I said, she’s okay,” Caleb repeated. “And this is private property. You weren’t invited.”
Movement caught Micah’s peripheral vision.
Naomi.
She walked up slowly, arms crossed over her chest, Good Boy at her side. Her expression was guarded and careful—but her eyes were sharp.
Dale’s gaze shifted to her, and his smile softened. “Naomi. It’s good to see you.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she stood there silently and stared at him almost as if daring Dale to defy them.
Dale cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Caleb. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I promise. I just wanted to let you know I’m around if you need anything. For the baby, I mean.”
“We don’t,” Caleb said.
Dale held his gaze. Then he nodded slowly and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right. I hear you. But if you change your mind, you let me know. Okay?”
Caleb didn’t answer.
Dale’s eyes moved back to Naomi, lingering just a beat too long. “Sarah would’ve been proud of what you’re doing here. Taking care of family like this.”
Naomi’s jaw tightened, but she still didn’t speak.
Dale stepped back toward his truck, hands sliding back into his pockets. “Well, I won’t keep you.” He opened the driver’s door and paused, glancing back at the property one more time. “Beautiful place. Sarah and Richard really did something special here.”
Micah’s hand curled into a fist at his side. The man knew what Richard had done to Sarah, and he was acting as if nothing violent had happened between them. As if they’d had a healthy, loving marriage.
He had a lot of nerve.
Dale climbed into the truck, started the engine, and pulled away from the gate. He rolled slowly down the road and disappeared around the curve.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Caleb exhaled, slow and controlled. “Well . . . that was something.”
Micah stared at the empty road, his mind already reviewing everything Dale had said—and everything he hadn’t.
The man hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t threatened. Hadn’t raised his voice or demanded anything.
But he’d made his presence known.
And that was the point.
Naomi’s voice broke the silence, quiet and tight. “He’s not getting near her.”
Micah turned to look at her. Her arms were still crossed, her shoulders rigid, her eyes fixed on the spot where Dale’s truck had been.
“No,” Micah said. “He’s not.”
But even as he said it, he knew keeping him away wouldn’t be that simple.
Dale Harding had just made his opening move.