Chapter 18
The midsummer dryness of Montana could drain every last drop of moisture from your body in minutes. Kara filled a tall glass and tipped it back, gulping until it was empty.
Her phone buzzed, and she almost ignored it—until she saw her assistant’s name.
“Please tell me you didn’t forget about the deadline,” her assistant said the second she answered.
Kara blinked. “What deadline?”
Then a sigh. “Well, that answers that.”
Kara let out a quiet breath. I’ve had a long week.”
“Clearly,” her assistant said dryly. “I’ll push it back. Try not to disappear completely, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Low confidence, but I’ll take it.”
The call ended, leaving behind something small but important—a reminder that not everything was spiraling.
She had a life waiting for her in New York—her job, her home, and her fiancé.
? ? ?
The loud clatter of something falling yanked her violently back into the present. The TV was still playing low in the background.
She shut it off quickly.
Was someone truly coming after me?
Her hand reached instinctively for her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked it. Without thinking, she pressed call on Colin.
Why was he the first person I thought of? Well, Isaac wasn’t there, for one. And two—
The line clicked. “Hello?”
“I’m staying at George’s house,” Kara whispered. “I heard something. I think someone might be outside.”
“I’ll be there in five!”
Hang up and call 911,” he added, his tone gentle but firm.
Kara nodded even though he couldn’t see her.
A second later.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, my name is Kara Nicholls. I’m at 543 Somerset Avenue. I—I heard something. I think someone is trying to break in.” Her voice was too fast, too high. She was trying her best not to be hysterical, but adrenaline was already doing its work.
“Where are you in the house, Kara?” the dispatcher asked, calm and professional.
“In the living room. All the doors and windows are locked—I double-checked earlier.”
“Okay, good. Please move out of sight of any windows or doors. Somewhere you can stay hidden and safe.”
Kara scanned the room. The coat closet was tucked under the stairs, nearly invisible unless you knew to look.
“There’s a small closet under the stairs. It’s not very obvious—I’ll hide there.”
“Good. Stay on the line with me, Kara. I’ll be right here until officers arrive.”
“Thank you,” Kara breathed, barely holding it together.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Kara jumped so hard the phone almost slipped from her hand.
“There’s someone at the door,” she whispered into the phone, crouched inside the closet, knees pulled to my chest, heart hammering.
The dispatcher’s voice was soft in her ear. “Stay where you are, Kara. Help is on the way. The patrol units would not have arrived that fast. Please stay where you are, Ms Nicholls,” the responder said firmly.
“It's me!” Colin called out.
Kara blinked. She had called him. Somehow, in the swirl of fear and 911 and hiding in the closet, Kara completely forgot.
“It’s a friend,” she said out loud, more to myself than anyone, as she moved to the window next to the door, with a view of the porch and who might be on it.
She carefully peeled back the curtain, heart still thudding, just to be sure. The moment she saw him, a wave of safety rushed through her.
Kara unlocked the door and swung it open. Before he could say a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He held her without hesitation, his voice low and steady. “It’s okay.”
She heard the dispatcher’s voice faintly from the phone still clutched in her hand. A patrol car pulled up while they were still in the doorway. Two officers stepped out, guns drawn, moving with tense precision toward the house.
One of the officers, short and stocky, in his late thirties, with a very serious face, stepped forward and called out for Kara to identify herself.
She identified herself and Colin, explaining that she hadn’t checked the rooms. Colin kept one protective arm around her waist.
But as the officers approached, one of them gave Colin a long, pointed look. And slowly, Kara eased out of Colin’s hold.
“What did you hear?” he asked.
“A clattering on the back patio,” Kara said, pointing toward the side gate that led into the yard.
One officer went inside to clear the house while another circled to the back.
The second officer moved toward the back, flashlight scanning the ground.
“There’s gravel kicked up; looks like a boot print by the edge of the deck. Hard to be sure, but I took photos.”
Kara gasped softly.
“It could be old,” the second officer said quickly. I know this is George's place; it could’ve been George. That noise you heard might’ve been a raccoon. They’ve been hanging around lately. Have you had a party recently?” Maybe it caught the smell of the leftovers.
She’d called Colin and the police over a raccoon. The print could have belonged to Isaac—or any of the guests who’d been at the funeral gatherings. Embarrassment crept over her as she realized how quickly she’d jumped to the worst conclusion.
“All clear,” the first officer reappeared. “I’m calling it in”.
“In the meantime,” the second officer continued, “I recommend getting cameras installed around the property. Motion lights, at the very least. It’s pitch black out there.”
“I’m leaving in a few days,” Kara replied quietly. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
She felt Colin’s eyes snap to her, his gaze hot on her skin.
“If anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to contact the department,” the first officer said. “Have a good night, ma’am.”
They turned and headed back to the patrol car. Colin gave a respectful nod to the second officer as they passed. Once they were gone, Kara turned to him.
“Who’s he?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual, but the weight of everything still hung in the air.
Colin’s brows knit slightly as the question caught him off guard.
“Officer James,” Colin said after a minute of silence. He rubbed the back of his neck. “He was the one who took the call when my ex-wife had that last episode.”
“Sorry,” Kara said, though she wasn’t sure why she was.
“There are far better things ahead than what’s behind us,” he said.
Those words struck deeper than they should have. She cleared her throat, trying to collect herself.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Kara said, my voice quieter now. “I really appreciate it.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I’m here for you.”
God. Why did everything he said feel like it was aimed straight at my chest? This was how he always spoke. Yet with all the messy feelings I’d buried under logic and loyalty, every word felt like an arrow.
Colin looked at her like she was the moon and all the stars and the reason a room had light in it. That absolutely terrified her.
“I don’t know if you should be here, Colin”.
He just stepped back a little, giving her space. “Tell me to go,” he said gently, “And I’ll go.”
Always giving her the choice. There was patience in his stance, ache in his eyes. The warmth in his voice pulled at her like gravity.
She watched him nod, and that was when panic set in, because she saw it: the acceptance. He was going to leave, and in that instant, her body moved before her mind could catch up. Kara grabbed his shirt, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.
“No. Don’t. I’m scared.”
His eyes searched hers. He stepped even closer, his hands sliding to the small of her back. “I need the words, Kara.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding like she’d run a marathon through her own emotions.
“Stay,” she whispered.
A half-smile touched his lips. “Where are those manners?” he asked, one brow raised.
She blinked, only thrown for a second. “Please.”
“Good girl.”
A rush of heat tore through her so fast she nearly forgot how to breathe. Just two words, and she felt like she might melt into the floor.
Why could he undo her like this?
Less than ten minutes ago, she had been hiding in a closet, terrified someone might break through the door and kill her. Now all she could think about was the way his mouth felt brushing against her ear and the burn low in her body.
“If you don't want to stay here. Why don’t you stay with me?” he asked quietly.
“I can't.” That was a line she couldn’t cross. “Just stay here with me. In case the raccoons come back,” she said, offering it as a compromise.
Just until morning.
She could explain it away to Isaac.
Colin stepped inside and glanced around. “You’ve been sleeping on the couch? That can’t be comfortable. You need a proper bed. You need your beauty sleep.”
“It’s spooky up there,” she told him. “I’m good down here. Besides, I’m almost done, as you can see.”
Colin looked around at the boxes and random belongings still scattered throughout the room.
“Almost done, you say?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
He moved a pillow aside and sat down, tapping the space beside him. The invitation was almost impossible to resist. Kara sat beside him, only to sink against him, settling into his lap. Colin's hand slowly stroked through her hair.
“Do you ever feel like something’s already decided?” she asked softly. “Even when you’re trying to do the right thing?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I feel it right now.”
Kara understood exactly what he meant.
“You were too good for me,” she said.
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
Kara kept her eyes fixed on the rug, afraid to meet his gaze.
“I couldn’t let you get caught up in my mess,” she said, the words tumbling out, raw and overdue. “ I thought if I went away for good, I could protect everyone; here I am, and I can’t even protect myself”.
Kara’s fingers curled slightly against him, her voice unsteady as she tried to force the words out.
Colin’s hand stilled in her hair.
Her breath hitched. “Everything just- everything went wrong so fast.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze unfocused as if she were seeing it all over again.
Colin’s hand slipped from her hair to her shoulder, grounding, but his voice was tight when he spoke.
“What are we talking about, Kara?”
She closed her eyes. “I don't know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I really don't…."
Colin’s hands moved to her shoulders, then, more firmly, pulling her up just enough so he could see her face.
“Hey,” he said, softer now, urgent in a different way. “Look at me.”
She did. Her eyes filled, tears slipping freely now.
“I’m so afraid,” she admitted, the words breaking apart as they left her. “I don’t know who I can trust. I’m tired of running, Colin.”
The admission hung there between them. He pulled her closer, holding her against him. “It’ll be okay. You can trust me.”
It unsettled her how easily her body accepted it. How quickly the tension drained from her shoulders when she stopped fighting it. Safety had never felt like something she could simply have—it had always been something she had to earn.
In the quiet space between his heartbeat and his steady touch was what peace felt like.
Then everything before it had been something else entirely—and she wasn’t sure she could go back to pretending otherwise.