Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KRISTIN
Everton always felt like neutral ground to me.
A place where I could breathe without everyone’s eyes on me, without the constant hum of ranch gossip.
The streets were calm that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the shop windows, the faint smell of rain still clinging to the air.
My shop wasn’t much, just a converted brick-front space on Main with a bell that jingled whenever someone came in and the faint scent of leather and cedar lingering long after closing.
It was mine. Every nail in the wall, every scrape in the floorboard carried my fingerprint.
I was sweeping near the front when I noticed it.
At first, I thought it was just another flyer wedged into the crack of the door. Probably a lost-dog notice or an ad from the feed store down the street. The kind of thing that appeared after lunch rushes when Main Street went quiet. But when I bent to pick it up, the world tilted.
A single sheet of paper. The handwriting was jagged and ugly, pressed into the page so hard it looked carved instead of written.
He can’t protect you forever.
My stomach dropped. The broom slid from my hands and hit the floor with a loud clatter that echoed through the stillness.
For a heartbeat, I just stood there. The soft buzz of the overhead lights became too loud, filling the air until it felt like static under my skin. My pulse hammered in my ears.
This wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t jealousy or some joke gone wrong. It was deliberate. Focused. The weight of it pressed through my chest and into my spine until breathing hurt.
And somehow, it had made it here. Into my space. My safe place.
Lincoln’s warnings ran through my head. The times he’d gone still when I brushed off his concern. The way his eyes scanned the parking lot before I locked up. I’d thought he was being overprotective, just his nature to hover and watch. I hadn’t realized he’d been keeping things from me.
If this note had reached me, whoever was leaving them was getting bolder.
The bell above the door jingled. The sudden sound tore through the silence and made me jump so hard the paper nearly ripped in my hands.
“Kristin?” It was Lincoln’s voice.
Relief hit so fast it stole the air from my lungs. I turned, and there he was, framed by the light outside, hat pulled low, broad shoulders filling the doorway like he belonged there. Seeing him felt like stepping into warmth after standing in the cold too long.
The second his eyes found mine, his jaw tightened. “What happened?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. I only held out the paper with shaking fingers.
He crossed the room in two strides and took it. His eyes skimmed the words once, and his body went rigid. The muscles in his forearm shifted, his fingers curling around the edge of the note until the paper creased.
“Damn it.” He ran a hand over his jaw, the motion rough. “I should’ve been here sooner.”
The words pierced. “Sooner?” My voice cracked. “Lincoln, what do you mean sooner?”
He froze. His gaze lifted to mine.
“You knew.” The words left me before I could stop them. The truth landed hard. “You’ve seen these before, haven’t you?”
His silence told me everything.
My throat tightened. I stumbled back until my hip hit the counter. “How many?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How many?”
His eyes flashed, angry but not at me. At himself. “Enough.”
My stomach turned. The room spun slightly. Every moment of him insisting on walking me to my truck, locking up for me, steering me away from the mailbox flashed through my mind. I’d laughed it off, calling him stubborn. All the while, he’d been catching threats before they reached me.
And this one had slipped through.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, the edge of the counter digging into my back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you living scared.” His voice was rough but calm, steady the way it always got when anger threatened to break loose. “I thought I could stop him before it reached you. Keep you safe without putting that weight on you.”
“Lincoln.”
“I was wrong.” His tone dropped. He slammed the note onto the counter, jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped in his temple. “And I’ll make sure he never gets this close again.”
The paper fluttered once, then went still.
My chest hurt. Fear twisted with fury. “You should’ve trusted me. I had a right to know.”
His eyes softened just a fraction, though the storm still burned behind them. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. But you need to listen now. You’re not safe here alone. Not at the shop. Not anywhere without me close.”
The words that used to make me bristle no longer sounded controlling. They sounded like truth. The kind you didn’t argue with.
I sank onto the stool behind the counter. “He was right here. At my door.”
Lincoln crouched in front of me until we were eye level. His hand covered mine, solid and warm, anchoring me to something real when everything inside me felt ready to shatter.
“I’ll make him regret it.” His voice dropped low, steady as a vow. “But you have to let me handle it my way.”
I stared at him. The conviction in his eyes left no room for doubt. For the first time, his protectiveness didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like shelter.
Maybe I was finally starting to believe what he’d said all along. I wasn’t safe alone. But with him, perhaps I could be. I nodded, and I didn’t really care what he did.
Lincoln straightened slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. For a moment, he stayed there, one big hand still covering mine, thumb brushing the side of my palm like he was making sure I was real. The weight of his gaze held me still. Then his voice dropped, low and certain.
“Get your bag. We’re leaving.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re not working here all day, not with this.” He flicked a look at the note on the counter. His jaw flexed hard, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. “I should’ve done this the first time.”
“I can’t just leave.”
“Yes, you can.” He stood, and it felt like the room shrank around him. “Shut the register. Lock the back. I’ll handle the front. You can call Ty, Clay, and Michelle and tell them they’ll still be paid, but until this is over, you’re closed.”
It wasn’t a request.
Typically, that tone would’ve made me bristle.
I would’ve told him I didn’t need a babysitter, that I could take care of myself.
But the paper sitting on the counter said otherwise.
The air in the shop felt wrong, as if it still held a trace of the person who’d slipped that note inside. I didn’t argue.
I closed out the till with trembling fingers, the sound of the coins and the click of the register too loud in the quiet. I slid the cash into the safe and grabbed my bag from under the counter. The familiar motions steadied me just enough to keep breathing.
Lincoln moved through the shop like a man on a mission.
His boots were silent against the floor, every movement controlled, his eyes sweeping over the windows and the front door as if he expected someone to appear.
When he came back to me, his jaw was set tight, but his expression softened slightly when his gaze met mine.
“Ready?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” My voice barely made it past my throat.
He reached up, flipped the sign to closed, and locked the door with a sharp click.
The bell above it jingled softly, an innocent sound that made my chest ache.
He slid the deadbolt home and rested a hand against the door for a second, shoulders tense, as if he didn’t trust even the lock to hold.
Then he turned, motioned for me to move ahead of him, and guided me outside with a gentle hand at the small of my back.
The street was nearly empty. The air had cooled, the light shifting to that soft blue that came right before evening.
The wind carried the faint scent of smoke from the diner down the block.
Usually, I loved this time of day, when Main Street slowed and everything felt safe again.
But now every shadow seemed to watch. Every sound made me jump.
Lincoln’s truck was parked out front. He opened the passenger door for me, waited until I climbed in, then went around to his side. The cab smelled like leather, coffee, and him. He didn’t start the engine right away. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white against the worn leather.
“I should’ve told you,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I thought I could stop it before it touched you. I was wrong.”
I looked at him, at the tightness around his mouth, at the furrow between his brows that deepened when he was fighting something he couldn’t control. “You were trying to protect me.”
“That’s no excuse for keeping you in the dark.” His tone carried frustration, but it wasn’t directed at me. It sat heavy in the air, a mix of guilt and anger that seemed to hollow him out.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The only sound was the faint tick of the cooling engine and the distant rumble of traffic. Then I reached over and laid my hand on his arm. His skin was warm under my palm, the muscle tight as coiled wire, but he eased slightly under my touch.
“Let’s just go home,” I whispered.
He nodded once, his jaw still tight. “Yeah. Home.”
The drive back to the ranch was quiet. The sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving streaks of gold and purple across the horizon.
The rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement filled the silence.
I watched the landscape roll by through the window, every fence post and field blurring together, my reflection faint against the glass.
My pulse finally began to slow, though the knot in my stomach didn’t ease.
When we turned onto the long gravel drive, the porch light was already on. The glow cut through the twilight, a single warm promise against the dark. For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.
Lincoln parked near the steps and shut off the engine. The sudden quiet rang in my ears. He was out of the truck before I even reached for the handle. When he opened my door, his hand came out automatically.
I took it.
The warmth of his fingers wrapped around mine, solid and sure.
He didn’t speak as we walked toward the house, his thumb brushing small, slow circles against the back of my hand.
His jaw was still set hard, eyes scanning the yard as if he expected something to move in the shadows.
But when he felt me watching, his grip tightened.
He pulled me closer against his side, his body heat cutting through the chill that had settled in my bones.
For the first time since finding that note, I didn’t feel like prey. I felt protected.
And as much as I hated admitting it, part of me needed that. Needed him.
Inside, the house smelled like coffee and cedar, the scent that always reminded me of him. The familiar warmth of the kitchen wrapped around us as he shut the door behind me and locked it. The sound of the bolt sliding into place sent a strange kind of relief through me.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly. His voice had steadied, though the rough edge was still there. “He’s not going to touch you. Not while I’m breathing.”
Something in his tone made me believe it. It wasn’t bravado or a promise he couldn’t keep. It was a fact. Plain and simple. I let out a slow breath, the tension in my shoulders loosening for the first time since that note hit my hands.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Lincoln reached out, brushed a strand of hair away from my face with his thumb. The simple gesture made my throat tighten harder than the fear had.
“Come on,” he murmured. “You’re home now.”
His voice was soft but sure. The words wrapped around me like a blanket.
For the first time that day, I let myself lean into him.
The rest of the world could wait.