Chapter 5 Carson
FIVE
CARSON
The second Lennon comes out of the office, I can tell something is wrong.
It’s reiterated by the way she opens the passenger door and hops into the seat.
Something has made her either worried or scared.
It’s coming off her in waves. The air around her is thick, and I don’t mean with the scent of Shawn Cooper’s cheap Glade automatic scent sprayer.
She looks like she’s seen a ghost, or maybe like she’s carrying the weight of the world on those capable shoulders of hers.
As she climbs in, her movements are stiff, and she pulls the door shut. It reverberates off the inside of the truck, and I wait for her to say something. She doesn’t look at me. She just stares straight ahead through the windshield, her hands clasped together in her lap, her jaw set hard.
“You’re five minutes early,” I say, keeping my voice low as I pull away from the curb. “According to the text I got from Atlee while I was on my way here, you’d make me wait for one last important email.” I hope mentioning her sister will put her at ease, but it seems to do nothing.
“Shawn had some things to do, and I didn’t want to make him wait,” she says. Her voice is thin, stretched way too tight for the woman I know. She stops as a sheriff’s cruiser drives by us.
Looking over, I see that it’s Sheriff Reagan, and I lift up my hand in a wave. Lennon doesn’t move. She just sits there with her mouth clamped shut, her body tight, and her pulse visible in her neck.
I navigate the truck through the small downtown stretch, around the square, and then out toward the county where we live.
My eyes cut toward her every chance I get.
This isn’t the woman I’ve come to know. The independent, fire-spitting woman I dropped off this morning has been replaced by someone who looks like she’s been through it today.
Like she’s seen the worst that the world has to show her and she’s barely holding it together.
“Lennon,” I try again. My voice is soft so that I don’t spook her.
She doesn’t blink.
“Lennon, look at me.” This time, I speak with more authority.
She finally turns her head, and for a split second, that mask slips.
There’s a glimpse of fear, but there’s something else there now.
It’s something that I recognize, because I’m dealing with the same.
It’s a cold, simmering rage that reminds me of a cornered animal.
One we might be trying to catch at the ranch, and we’ve got it backed into a fence.
Her eyes remind me of that, when the animal is looking for a way to get out.
“What happened in there?” I ask, my hand leaving the steering wheel to rest on the center console, inches from hers. “And don’t tell me nothing. You’ve got that look in your eyes again. The one you had right after the shot went off.”
“I’m just tired, Carson. It’s been a long day on top of a very long night. I didn’t sleep in my own bed, and it’s just a lot to deal with right now.”
“Bullshit,” I growl, pulling the truck onto the shoulder of the road before we hit the main highway.
I throw it in park and turn fully toward her.
“You’re a terrible liar. Your pulse is jumping in your neck, and you’re gripping your purse like it’s the only thing keeping you in this truck. Talk to me. Please talk to me.”
She lets out a sharp, jagged laugh that comes from deep within her chest and looks away.
Her eyes move back and forth to the side window, looking at the incoming darkness of the forest surrounding the road.
“Why do you care so much? I’m just here because I’m scared.
Because I got shot at last night heading to Grizzly River, and you happened to see me.
It’s short-term, right? I’m a complication you didn’t expect.
You should be happy I’m trying to keep my problems to myself. ”
Now this? It pisses me off. I’m the youngest Nelson brother, always the one who doesn’t really take anything seriously. The charming one, who always has a smile. None of that means that I don’t want complications in my life, or that I don’t think any of this is hard.
“Because you’re my complication,” I say, reaching out and gently but firmly turning her face back to mine.
The palm of my hand rests against her cheek, and I can almost feel the fear in her body, the way she wants to open that door and take off, running to where she thinks none of whatever this is will find her.
But I can’t let her. I want to keep her safe, so I have to convince her that I’m the safety.
I run my thumb over the line of her jaw, noticing the way she flinches—not in a way that says she’s afraid of me, but in a way that says she’s remembering being afraid of someone else.
“I saw the way you looked when you came out of the office. Whatever you saw in there today is why someone tried to shoot you. If you won’t tell me for your sake, tell me so I know which direction to point my truck when the shit hits the fan. ”
She closes her eyes, leaning into my hand for just a heartbeat before she pulls back, reclaiming the protective shell she puts up. “It’s bigger than just a case, Carson. It’s the kind of thing that ruins lives. Not just mine. People you know. People this town trusts. It will upend families.”
“The Nelsons don’t trust easy, darlin’. We know better.”
“You don’t know this,” she whispers.
I want to push, want to demand every name and every date written in whatever those files are.
My instinct is to take her by the shoulders and shake the truth out of her so I can go settle the score.
So I can make sure whoever is after her doesn’t ruin us both.
But I see the way her fingers are trembling, and I realize that for Lennon, sharing this isn’t just about trust. It’s about survival.
She’s had to keep so much of her life a secret to survive that she might not be able to trust for a very long time.
“Fine,” I say, shifting back into drive. “Don’t tell me. But from here on out, you don’t go anywhere without me. Not to the office, not to the store, not even to the porch to watch the sunset. You’re under my shadow until I say otherwise.”
“Carson,” she huffs before rolling her eyes.
“I’m not asking, Lennon.”
The rest of the drive is silent, but there’s electricity between us. When we pull up to the ranch, the sun is dipping low, painting the sky in purple and deep orange. That’s why I love this place. There is nothing more beautiful out here than the sunrise and sunset.
I lead her inside the house, and the second the door clicks shut, the silence of the big house feels heavy. She heads straight for the kitchen, and I hear her opening doors and shutting them. I’m assuming she’s looking for something a little stronger to drink than water.
“Lennon,” I call out as she reaches for a glass.
She stops, her back to me.
“Whatever it is…whatever Shawn showed you…you aren’t in it alone anymore.”
She doesn’t turn around, but I see her shoulders drop an inch. “You say that now, Carson. But some secrets are heavy enough to sink everyone who holds them. I learned that when I was a kid.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a strong back,” I mutter, walking up behind her. I don’t touch her, but I stand close enough that she can feel the heat of me. “Hungry?”
“I don’t think I could eat if I tried.”
“Well, you’re going to try. I’m making steaks. And you’re going to sit there and watch me, and for one hour, we aren’t going to talk about sheriffs, or shots, or secrets. Deal?”
She finally turns, a small, weary smile ghosting her lips. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”
“It’s a Nelson trait. Get used to it.”
As I pull the meat from the fridge, I keep my movements steady, but inside, my mind is working overtime.
Reagan. I saw the way her eyes darted when we passed the sheriff’s cruiser in town.
I’m starting to put the pieces together, and if I’m right, Grizzly River is about to become a goddamn war zone.