26. Haven
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haven
I hold my breath the whole way back to the ranch.
Scrambling out the window with a book under my hoodie was a challenge. Cash was so much faster than me. He even got the window back up before my uncle strolled into his office, completely unaware that we were just outside.
Rather than stealing the current registry, which would be noticed as missing immediately, I took the top book off the stack of the completely filled guest books that he keeps on a shelf.
“This is from two years ago.” I flip through the pages, recognizing so many names. “But it might still be useful. Anyone who has a grudge against me is probably a long-time member of the church, right? They knew me when I left, they’re mad that I came back but didn’t return to the fold.”
Cash nods grimly. “That’s good logic.”
He sets the two notes we’ve received on the kitchen table, and we flip through the pages of the book together, looking for matching handwriting.
We’re halfway through when the kitchen door opens and his brother Ridge steps inside. He’s a hard-looking man. Bearded, like Cash, but no tattoos, and no ready smile.
No charm, all rough suspicion.
I shiver.
“What’s going on?” He crosses his arms.
Cash ignores the question. “Why are you up so late?”
“That damn bull got out of the pasture again.”
“You need help?”
“I need you to tell me what you’re hiding behind your back there on the table.”
“Haven got another threatening note.”
Ridge’s attention slashes to me, his brows tight. “Sorry to hear that. And what did Cash talk you into as a result of that?”
“Umm…”
“Don’t try to use her against me.” Cash laughs, unbothered by his brother’s concern. “We borrowed a guest registry from New Harvest to do some handwriting comparison. If you want, you can walk it into Pastor Bingham’s office yourself tomorrow to return.”
“Jesus Christ, Cash.” Ridge scowls, then looks at me again. “No offence.”
“None taken,” I stammer.
“Breaking and entering is a fast way to get yourself thrown back in jail.”
Cash just shrugs. “Someone at the church is stalking Haven. Good fucking luck if they try to make me the bad guy this time.”
My heart squeezes. “They did that once, and it worked.”
Cash rolls his shoulders and clenches one hand into a fist, grinding into the palm of his other hand. “Yeah. Mistakes were made in trusting that system. Now I know better.”
“Not better enough to avoid doing crimes in the first fucking place.” Ridge takes off his hat and sets it on the table. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“We don’t need to involve you in this,” I protest. “Really. I’m so sorry—”
Both brothers give me identical quelling looks.
“You’re family,” Ridge says. His words are clipped, but I believe him.
I think about Mercy, and her cut-off thoughts about how loving Ridge is a challenge.
My heart hurts for her, and for him, because this is a man who clearly cares about his brothers so much it pains him.
So much he’ll call me family even though we barely know each other, our paths having only briefly crossed a few times.
I wonder if that’s how he feels about Mercy, too—that it hurts to love her.
As the brothers look at the book, I sink into a chair on the other side of the table. I’m suddenly very tired. It’s been a rollercoaster of a day. Also, the last week has felt like a month, and the last month has felt like an entire year.
Whoever my stalker is, they’re paying a disturbing amount of attention to my comings and goings.
Who could have seen me come back from the garage yesterday?
I only saw library regulars.
Which means whoever is obsessed with me is someone who has been right under my nose the entire time since I returned to Dragonfly Creek.
“Cash…”
He looks up immediately. “What is it?”
“What if we look for the names of library regulars?”
He grabs me a pad of paper and I write down every name I can think of. But one by one, we rule all of them out based on the handwriting samples.
“I gotta go get this damn bull,” Ridge says. “But if you need help tomorrow, just shout.”
“Will do. Good night.”
Cash herds me downstairs to bed, but we don’t fall asleep, even though I’m yawning up a storm. I curl up in his arms and he rubs my back, trying to soothe the frustrated energy vibrating through me.
When it’s clear that I’m not going to drift off, Cash turns his lamp back on.
“Let’s review what we know so far. We can’t rule out those library patrons fully,” he says grimly. “Maybe they get someone else to write the notes for them.”
“But it all feels personal. This isn’t someone who is scheming to get something from us. They just want to hurt me with mean words—and maybe scare you off from spending time with me.”
I tilt my head to the side.
“What is it?” Cash searches my face. “Tell me.”
“I dunno. It might be a wrong direction.”
“You’re smart. I want to know everything you’re thinking. No bad ideas.”
“What if this isn’t about me at all? What if this is about you? Maybe you have a secret admirer who is mad at me for kissing you.”
He laughs. “I know you think I have a reputation as a manwhore—”
“That’s not the word I would use!”
“But I don’t have any secret admirers.”
“That’s what makes it a secret, silly man. You’re hot and dangerous. I bet you have a dozen fans.”
He tightens his arms around me.
I rub his chest. “Your heart is racing.”
“I don’t like the idea that I’ve put you in danger.”
“Well, same. I didn’t like that I was dragging you into my problems.”
“Your problems are my problems, though.” He growls, visibly frustrated. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay.” I push myself up, kissing his chest, right above his heart, and then his mouth. “You don’t think I feel the same way? Your problems are my problems as well!”
“That’s not how this should work.”
“Why not? I love you.”
It just slips out.
As soon as I say it, I know it’s a mistake.
He goes still, and his gaze turns soft in that agonizing way when he’s trying to figure out how to let me know that I’m too innocent, too sweet for life, whatever. How many times have I seen this expression on Cash’s face?
Deep down, I knew that loving him was a secret I needed to keep to myself, that it would ruin everything if I said the words out loud.
Because he doesn’t love me back.
This has never been that for him. I knew that. It’s why I wanted to pre-plan the end of our fake relationship. But somewhere along the way, I forgot about the relationship rules I wrote down. I haven’t even looked at my notebook in a week.
I let myself get carried away in my own feelings, the joy of being his, and forgot why I’m his right now.
He cares for me.
He likes me so, so much.
But this was supposed to be transactional, him helping me out, with the thinnest veneer of a reciprocal benefit in that he needs a date for his brother’s wedding.
Which is just three days away.
I couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to say too much.