CHAPTER 6
Anna
I sat in the den, my body sinking into the plush cushions of the couch as I absently watched some trending Netflix show I couldn't have named if someone asked.
Chester was curled up beside me, his warm fur a comforting presence against my leg.
My fingers trailed through his soft coat, the repetitive motion soothing in a way I desperately needed.
The background noise of the TV was a lulling distraction, helping me drift away from the thoughts that never quite left me alone.
It had only been two weeks since I'd arrived at Connor's, but already I was starting to feel something I hadn't felt in months, something almost like safety. Like maybe I could breathe here. Like maybe the walls weren't closing in.
Chester snored contentedly beside me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The show droned on, its dialogue fading into background noise. Neither of us noticed the front door opening and closing with a soft click.
Then the TV screen went black mid-scene.
Just like that. One second there was light and movement and sound—the next, darkness.
And in that darkness, reflected on the screen, was a shadowy silhouette. A figure standing in the archway. Looming. Watching.
Him.
My pulse exploded, pounding in my ears like a deafening drumbeat. Every nerve in my body screamed danger as panic seized my heart in an iron grip. I gasped and tried to leap off the couch, but my legs tangled in the knitted blanket I'd wrapped around myself.
Get away. Run. NOW.
I stumbled forward, my balance thrown off by the fabric constricting my legs. The world tilted, and I was falling. Falling toward the glass coffee table, its sharp edges glinting in the low light like teeth.
Chester sprang off the couch, barking wildly, his protective instincts kicking in. My hands shot out instinctively to break my fall, bracing for the inevitable impact. For the shattering of glass, for the searing pain.
"Anna!"
Connor's voice sliced through my panic, and then his arms were around me, strong and steady, catching me before I hit the table. He held me upright, his grip firm but careful.
Chester kept barking, hackles raised and teeth bared as he positioned himself in front of us. A low growl rumbled in his throat, ready to defend against whatever threat he sensed.
My breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. My entire body shook like a leaf in a windstorm, adrenaline flooding my system so fast I felt dizzy with it. I looked up at the men—plural—and for a heart-stopping moment, I couldn't place where I was.
The lines blurred. Past and present merged into one suffocating nightmare.
Daniel finding me in Kansas.
Daniel blocking the door in Vermont before I left.
Daniel's hands on me, his voice in my ear telling me I was his—that I'd never escape him—
"It's okay, Anna." Connor's voice, gentle and steady, cut through the spiral. His arm stayed firm around my shoulders, his touch nothing like the memories clawing at my mind. "Just take deep breaths, okay? Focus on my voice. On the feeling of the couch behind you."
His words were a lifeline, and I clung to them, using them to pull myself back from the edge. I realized where I was: I was at Connor's. I was safe. That was Connor. And that was… Jaxon.
I became aware of Jaxon crouching down, carefully untangling the blanket from around my feet with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes flicked to my face repeatedly, searching for any sign that he was making things worse, ready to back off the second I needed space.
Chester stayed on high alert, his gaze darting between Connor and Jaxon, still poised to protect me.
As my breathing began to steady and the room came back into focus, Connor gently helped me ease into a sitting position on the couch.
Jaxon handed me a glass of cool water without a word.
I accepted it with trembling hands, my fingers gripping the smooth surface like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
"I'm sorry." The words came out barely above a whisper, shame burning hot in my chest. "I just—I didn't know it was you. I thought…"
I couldn't finish. I wouldn't give voice to the dark thought clawing at my throat. I couldn't admit that, for those few terrifying seconds, I'd been absolutely certain Daniel had found me again.
"It's okay," Connor said softly, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze that anchored me to the present. "You don't need to apologize, Anna. We should've said something when we came in. We just didn't want to disturb you while you were relaxing."
I nodded, my gaze fixed on the glass in my hands.
The shock still pulsed through me, a stark reminder that the wounds of my past weren't gone, just buried shallow, waiting to resurface.
I knew it would take time, more than a few weeks, to truly believe I was safe here.
To trust that the demons couldn't reach me anymore.
I could feel their eyes on me. Connor's, full of quiet concern. Jaxon's, sharp and assessing, analyzing every flicker of emotion. The tightness in my chest grew, a suffocating awareness crawling under my skin as I imagined his suspicions about me being trouble were only confirmed.
I needed to escape their watchful gazes, to retreat to the solitude of my room, where I could finally let this carefully constructed facade crumble in private.
"I'm going upstairs," I said quietly, my voice taut as I set the glass down on the table with a soft clink. Without another glance at either man, I rose on unsteady legs and hurried out of the room, my footsteps echoing in the stillness.
As I climbed the stairs, my thoughts spiraled, a storm of emotion I couldn't name flooding through me.
Connor meant well. He wanted to give me a safe haven.
But he didn't understand the depths of my terror, the way Daniel's cruelty had carved itself into my soul.
How could he? I hadn't told him everything. I didn't know how.
I'd been wearing a brave face these past few weeks, convincing both him and myself that I was fine—that I was healing. But now, in the aftermath of my panic, I could feel that fragile mask cracking, revealing the fractured, frightened woman beneath.
And Jaxon. God, Jaxon. His distrust lingered like smoke in the air.
I could feel the weight of it. The way he watched me with those guarded, storm-blue eyes, as if he expected me to bring chaos to Connor's doorstep at any moment.
The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this, at my weakest, my most exposed.
I couldn't bear the thought of confirming what he already believed: that I was nothing but a broken, damaged burden.
The sound of my bedroom door closing echoed through the quiet house, heavy and final.
I leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the cool wood, and tried to remember how to breathe normally, how to exist in this body that felt like a trap, in this mind that kept betraying me with memories I'd give anything to forget.
I commanded myself to stay strong: Pull yourself together, Anna. You can't fall apart. Not now. Not here. But God, I was so tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of pretending. Tired of living in constant fear that the next shadow would be him.
I couldn't hear their conversation downstairs, but I could imagine it. Connor explaining, Jaxon asking questions. Both of them discussing me like I was a problem to be solved, a situation to be managed.
Maybe I was.
Maybe that's all I'd ever be now. The girl who couldn't handle a shadow on a TV screen. The girl who flinched at sudden movements. The girl who'd let a man destroy her so completely that she couldn't even watch Netflix without having a panic attack.
I moved to the window, looking out at the sprawling ranch below. The horses grazed peacefully in the paddocks, the sun casting everything in warm, golden light. It was beautiful. Serene.
Everything I wasn't.
Time passed—I wasn't sure how much. Eventually, I heard voices downstairs. I knew I should probably go back down, face Connor, explain myself better. But the thought of seeing the concern in his eyes, the worry I'd put there, made my stomach twist.
Still, hiding up here wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't make this better. Taking a deep breath, I opened my door and made my way back downstairs. Connor and Jaxon were in the kitchen, their voices low but audible as I approached.
"You should talk to her—"
"Talk to me about what?" I asked as I entered, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage.
Both men turned. Jaxon's eyes met mine for just a second before he looked away, and I felt that familiar discomfort settle over me. He'd seen me at my worst now. There was no taking that back.
"We'll talk later," Jaxon said to Connor, his voice low. Then he moved toward the front door, giving me space, and I felt a confusing mix of relief and something else I couldn't quite identify.
The sound of his Jeep fading down the road left a tense silence in its wake. Connor shifted his focus to me, and I noticed how I relaxed slightly once Jaxon was gone, the tightness in my shoulders easing just a fraction.
He told me about a cookout that he holds at his house. A weekend tradition for friends, family, and workers. That he canceled last weekend’s because of my arrival.
"I was thinking about canceling it again, but—"
"Do not cancel that because of me," I interrupted, my tone firmer than I felt. Determination flared in my chest, hot and insistent. "I will not be the reason things change around here. I won't make people feel like they have to tiptoe around me or put their lives on hold."
Connor smiled, and I saw relief there. Pride, even.
"I thought you might say that. But I do want you to have options.
You don't have to stay for the cookout if you're not comfortable.
You can go upstairs, take some time for yourself, or hang out in one of the guest cabins if you need space.
Whatever makes you feel at ease, Anna. That's what matters most."
I nodded, gratitude warming my chest. "Thank you, Connor. I'll think about it. But I don't want to be a burden. You should enjoy the cookout with your friends, not worry about me."
"You're not a burden," Connor assured me, his voice gentle but firm. "You're a friend too, Anna. And you can always change your mind. The important thing is that you feel safe and have choices. I'm here for you, no matter what."
I gave him a small smile. It wasn't easy to navigate this, the delicate balance between my own needs and the desire not to disrupt everyone's lives. But Connor's reassurance helped me feel a little more in control.
The chime of Connor's phone broke the moment. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "I have some work I need to take care of. Are you okay?" he asked, stretching as he stood.
I nodded, mustering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I think I'll go for a ride, it'll help clear my head."
We stepped outside together, greeted by warm sun and a gentle breeze. Connor headed toward the sale barn, and I walked in the opposite direction, making my way to the older barn where Choco had been moved so he could stay with Sam's horses.
As I walked, the stress and adrenaline from earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something calmer.
Riding Choco had always been a source of comfort and freedom for me, a way to escape my thoughts and simply exist in the present moment.
The rhythmic cadence of hoofbeats, the rush of wind against my face, the way everything else just.. . faded away.
I found Choco grazing in the field next to the barn, his sleek coat gleaming in the sunlight as he mingled with the other horses. A smile tugged at my lips as I entered the field and approached them, relishing the warmth of Choco's neck beneath my palm, the velvet softness of his coat.
The other horses sensed my presence and nudged me gently, seeking attention. I obliged, scratching their withers and offering gentle pats. The simple act of connection soothed my frayed nerves in a way nothing else could.
Being around the horses brought a unique sense of peace. They didn't judge. Didn't ask probing questions or demand explanations. They were simply there, offering their silent strength and unconditional acceptance.
As I stood there, surrounded by these gentle giants, I felt something grow within me—resolve, maybe.
I knew that if I was going to heal, to truly move forward and build a new life for myself, I needed to push myself out of my comfort zone.
Avoiding people and hiding away from the world wouldn't help me in the long run.
Especially not here, on Connor's bustling ranch filled with friends and workers who knew nothing of my past or of the darkness that had nearly consumed me.
In that moment, standing in the warm sunlight with Choco's breath soft against my shoulder, I made a decision.
I would face the uncomfortable situations that would inevitably arise. I would confront the whispers and curious glances with my head held high. It’s time to stop running. To stop letting fear dictate my every move. This was my chance to find stability—to reclaim control of my own narrative.
And I wasn't going to let it slip away.
I pressed my forehead against Choco's neck, breathing in his familiar scent—hay and horse and sunshine and home.
"We've got this, boy," I whispered. "We're going to be okay."