Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ruby
“Let’s put one here.” I point to the corner of the house. “And here.”
Xavier doesn’t answer right away. He studies the angles instead, stepping back a pace, then another, eyes tracking the line of sight from the eaves to the yard.
“That covers everything?”
“Most of it.” Not everything. The word hangs there anyway.
He shifts the ladder, climbing halfway up before pausing again, looking out toward the side yard.
“There’s a blind spot along that fence line,” he says. “Trees cut the angle.”
My brow furrows. “Can you fix that?”
“Not without cutting down the trees.” The light sweeps down the siding, across the narrow strip where grass meets foundation. “And here.” I follow to where the beam lands. “There’s no way to angle the camera down enough from this height. Anything close to the wall, right under it, it won’t catch.”
My stomach tightens. “So someone could just…”
“It’s small,” He adjusts the bracket, screwing it down, like closing the gap matters even if it doesn’t solve it. “And they’d have to cross open yard to get there. The other cameras would catch them before they got close enough to this spot.”
Still, the word sits heavier than it should. The drill kicks on, sharp and steady. Metal bites into wood. I stay on the porch, arms wrapped around myself, watching him work.
The cameras are smaller than I expected. They’re nearly invisible tucked beneath the eaves as if they belong there. Watching the driveway. Watching the yard. Watching everything. My eyes narrow. Except that little spot there. We’ll get another camera for that spot.
“Hand me the screws.” I step forward and pass them up. His fingers brush mine. Pause. Long enough to notice. Long enough that it isn’t nothing.
My heart scatters in my chest at the intensity of his piercing blue eyes. It’s like they’re peeling away every secret I’ve ever kept and laying them open at his feet.
I shouldn’t want him. It would go nowhere. But I can’t get my reasoning to catch up to the want welling up inside of me.
“Sorry about that.” His attention drops back to the drill, and the moment breaks. His fingers leave mine, taking the warmth with them, and the sounds of screws digging into wood replace everything else.
Sorry about what? Touching me? Stopping? Practically announcing to the male population of the bar that he’d interfere if someone came and spoke to me?
I’ve seen Samson squaring off when another boar nears Deliliah, and the expression was eerily similar. I bite back a laugh as hysteria threatens to take over. I don’t think Xavier would appreciate being compared to a breeding pig.
When he climbs down, he doesn’t come inside. Instead, he circles the yard, light sweeping across the grass, the fence, the pen where I moved the pigs back into the yard where Samson and Delilah hover around their litter, tracking our movements, the side of the house.
My stomach tightens with each pass. “What is it?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just crouches near the back window, the beam settling in one place. I step down off the porch.
The grass is pressed flat near the siding. Not a clear print. Just a shape where something, or someone, stood long enough to leave it behind. Not either of ours.
My pulse kicks hard. “They’ve been here.”
He doesn’t look at me. “Someone has.” The words come out flat but certain.
The motion light snaps on, flooding the yard with white light. Nothing moves. Nothing shows. Doesn’t matter. Someone or something has already been here. Again.
I cross my arms, hands sliding up and down my sleeves without thinking. “The cameras will catch whatever it was. Next time.”
“They’ll help,” he answers. It’s not the promise I was hoping to hear.
Inside, the house feels warmer when we step back in. The kitchen light glows against the dark windows, and the new locks catch faint reflections.
He sets his tools on the counter as I grab two mugs without asking if he’d like something. It should be too late for coffee, but if I go for anything stronger, my nerves will shatter. Water runs. Coffee grounds—the rhythm of something normal.
“You don’t have to stay tonight.” The steam rises and swirls. “The cameras are up.”
He leans back against the counter. I feel it without turning. “You want me to go?”
No. The answer comes too fast, too clear. “I don’t want you staying because you think you have to.”
Silence stretches as the refrigerator hums.
Squirt shuffles across the floor, hooves tapping before he noses against Xavier’s boot, letting out a low grunt as he rests against his leg. He glances down, absently scratching behind his ear without breaking the quiet. “I’m staying.”
Simple. No hesitation. My chest loosens before I can stop it. “You’ll get tired of my couch.”
He shrugs. “So far, it’s held me up.”
A small laugh slips out before I can stop it. “That’s fair.”
We move around each other in the kitchen, not quite touching, not quite separate. He shifts a tool out of the way before I reach for the cabinet. I step around him without needing to ask. Like we’ve done this before. Like we haven’t.
His phone lands on the counter with a soft thud as Squirt walks into the living room. “We’ll check the footage in the morning.”
We. The word settles in my chest. Where it shouldn’t. We doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does me. I nod, turning back to the counter before it can show.
Next to the sofa, Squirt lets out another low grunt, shifting his weight as he settles in for the night. Waiting for Xavier to join him. I guess we’re both pathetic at this point.