Chapter 17 #3
The sun had fully set by the time I finally pulled myself together enough to move.
The house was dark except for the entryway light I'd left on and quiet except for Chester's soft breathing and the occasional creak of old wood settling.
Empty in a way that made my chest ache with loneliness so profound it felt physical.
I should eat something. Should shower. Should do all the normal evening things that would give this night some semblance of routine, some illusion of normalcy.
Instead, I just sat there on Connor's floor, staring at nothing, replaying our fight over and over in my head like a highlight reel of my worst moments.
I love you too, Harper. But love isn't enough if you can't trust me.
He was right. God, he was right and I hated it. Hated that I'd proven exactly what he'd accused me of, that I still couldn't let people in, still tried to handle everything alone, and still saw asking for help as weakness instead of partnership.
Chester's ears suddenly perked up. His head lifted from my lap, turning toward the front door with laser focus. A low growl rumbled in his chest, quiet but unmistakable.
I froze, every muscle tensing. “Chester? What is it, boy?”
The growl intensified. He climbed off my lap and moved toward the door, his hackles rising, tail stiff and alert in a way I'd never seen before.
That’s when I heard it.
A soft scraping sound, like something dragging across the porch. Quiet. Deliberate. The kind of sound someone would make if they were trying not to be heard.
My heart kicked into overdrive, adrenaline flooded my system so fast it made me dizzy. I scrambled to my feet, and my whole body shook as I moved to the front window and peered through the curtains with hands that trembled so badly I could barely grip the fabric.
The porch was dark because Connor hadn't left the porch light on when he'd left in anger, and I hadn't thought to turn it on. But in the ambient light from the entryway spilling through the windows, I could see shadows. Movement.
Someone was definitely out there.
Chester's growl turned into a low, continuous snarl. His teeth were bared, his attention fixed on the door like he was ready to attack whatever came through it. The scraping sound came again. Closer now. Moving along the porch toward—
The living room window.
My blood turned to ice as I heard the distinct sound of someone trying to open a window. The soft squeak of old wood being tested, pressure applied to the frame.
I ran. Didn't think, didn't plan, just moved. Up the stairs two at a time, with Chester’s bark breaking free behind me. Loud and aggressive and protective, the kind of sound meant to warn and intimidate.
Connor's bedroom. I needed to get to Connor's bedroom. It had a lock on the door and—
Glass shattered downstairs.
The sound was loud, violent, unmistakable. Someone had broken a window. Someone was breaking into Connor's house while I was alone and he was gone and—
I slammed Connor's bedroom door shut and locked it with shaking hands. I fumbled for my phone in my pocket and pulled up Connor's contact with fingers that barely worked.
Hit call.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
Please answer. Please, please answer.
Four rings.
“You've reached Connor Whitaker. Leave a message.”
Voicemail.
I hung up and immediately dialed 911 with hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone. Downstairs, Chester's barking had reached a fever pitch. Loud, continuous, furious. I could hear him moving through the house, probably confronting whoever had just broken in.
“911, what's your emergency?”
The dispatcher's calm voice was like a lifeline in the chaos.
“Someone's breaking into my house.” My voice came out high and terrified, barely recognizable as my own. “I'm alone upstairs and someone just broke a window and my dog's downstairs and I can hear—”
“Ma'am, I need you to take a breath and give me your location.”
I rattled off Connor's address, my words tumbling over each other in a rush. The ranch name, the road, the approximate distance from town.
“Are you in a safe location?”
“I locked myself in a bedroom upstairs. But they're inside. I can hear—”
Chester's barking suddenly changed pitch, and became more aggressive. Then I heard a man's shout, muffled through the floor but audible. Cursing. The crash of something falling.
Then the most beautiful sound in the world: sirens.
Distant but getting closer. The sheriff's department must have been close, maybe already on patrol in the area. The sirens wailed, growing louder with each passing second, cutting through the night.
“Ma'am, I had deputies in the area and they’re en route. They're approximately two minutes away. Can you stay on the line with me?”
“Yes.” I was crying now, tears streaming down my face, my breath coming in gasps. “Yes, I'm here.”
More sounds from downstairs. More cursing. Chester's barking. Then the front door slammed open, hard enough that I felt it through the floor. I heard the sound of footsteps running across the porch, down the stairs and across the gravel drive.
The sirens were loud now, right outside. Red and blue lights flashed through Connor's bedroom window, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
“They're here,” I told the dispatcher, my voice breaking on a sob. “The police are here.”
“Stay where you are until they clear the house, ma'am. Don't come out until they tell you it's safe.”
I stayed on the line, listening to Chester's barking downstairs. Listening to the sounds of car doors slamming, voices calling out, heavy boots on the porch steps.
“Sheriff's department! Anyone in the house, make yourself known!”
“Upstairs!” I called out, my voice hoarse from crying. “I'm upstairs!”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, thudding up them slowly. “Ma'am, this is Deputy Collins. I'm coming to your location. Are you armed?”
“No!”
“Is the dog aggressive?”
“Not to me.”
“Alright. I'm at your door. Can you unlock it?”
I ended the call with 911, stumbled to the door on legs that barely held me, and unlocked it with trembling hands.
The young deputy that stood there couldn't have been more than twenty-five, fresh-faced and concerned. His hand was on his weapon but not drawn.
“Harper Walsh?”
“Yes.” My voice came out as a whisper.
“You're safe now, ma'am. We've secured the perimeter. Whoever broke in fled when they heard the sirens. Why don't you come downstairs with me?”
I followed him on shaking legs, barely able to walk. Down the stairs I'd run up in panic. Into the living room where—
The window. The large picture window facing the front yard was shattered, glass scattered across the floor in a thousand glittering pieces that caught the light from the deputies' flashlights outside. The curtains fluttered in the evening breeze coming through the broken pane.
Chester stood guard near the door, his tail wagging now that friends were here. His mouth was bloody.
“Did he bite whoever broke in?” I asked, my voice detached, numb with shock.
“Looks like it,” Deputy Collins said, kneeling to examine Chester. “Good boy. You're a very good boy.”
More deputies were outside, their flashlights sweeping the property like searchlights. Sheriff Davies himself appeared in the doorway, his weathered face grim.
“Ms. Walsh. You alright?”
“I'm—” I started to say fine. The automatic response. But the word died in my throat as my legs gave out. Deputy Collins caught me and guided me to the couch. “I tried calling Connor but he didn't answer and someone was trying to get in and Chester was barking and—”
“Slow down,” Davies said gently, sitting across from me in Connor's favorite armchair. “Start from the beginning. Where's Connor?”
“He left. We had a fight and he went to stay with Jaxon and Anna for the night.” The words tumbled out between sobs that I couldn't control.
Davies pulled out his phone, already dialing. “Let's get him back here.”
But I grabbed his arm. “Wait. Can I…can I call Jaxon instead?”
Something like sympathy crossed Davies' weathered face. “Go ahead. But make it quick. We need to secure this scene.”
I pulled out my phone with hands that still shook, found Jaxon's contact, and hit call.
He answered on the second ring. “Harper? Is everything okay?”
“Someone tried to break in.” The words came out flat, emotionless, shock settling in like fog. “To Connor's house. I tried calling Connor, but he didn't answer. The police are here. Chester bit whoever it was. The living room window's broken and I—”
“We're on our way.” Jaxon's voice was sharp, alert, the Marine in him taking over. “Harper, are you hurt?”
“No. Just scared.”
“We'll be there in five minutes. Stay with the deputies.”
“Okay.”
“Hey. Breathe. We're coming.”
He hung up, and I sat there on Connor's couch surrounded by deputies and broken glass, waiting.
Waiting for Jaxon and Anna to arrive.
Waiting for Connor to find out what happened.
Waiting to see if whoever had tried to break in would come back to finish what they started.
Waiting for my whole world to finish falling apart.