Chapter 24
Ghosts
Burke
The fire on the back deck snapped and popped, sending a steady glow through the cabin windows.
Burke straightened the table, smoothed the edge of the placemat, then chuckled at himself.
He wasn’t the kind of man who fussed over details, but tonight felt different.
He’d thought about her all day. Hell, he’d been thinking about her since the moment she kissed him on the courthouse steps two nights ago.
He could feel the brush of her lips, the way her hand had trembled against his arm before she leaned in.
It wasn’t the kiss itself that undid him—it was everything it lit inside him.
Burke Scott had kissed plenty of women—easy flings that filled the quiet—but none had gone deeper than skin.
Company, not connection. That kiss had struck something he hadn’t felt in years—maybe ever.
A hunger, yes, but also something softer, more dangerous.
He wanted her. Not just her touch, not just her beauty.
He wanted her laughter, her trust—the pieces she kept hidden behind those guarded eyes.
And she was hiding things. He knew it. He didn’t know what shadows haunted her, but he could feel the weight of them every time she pulled back, every time her gaze shuttered for just a second too long.
A younger version of himself might have run.
It only made him want to stand between her and whatever she feared.
Protective. That was the word. Strange, foreign, but true. He shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. Burke Scott had spent years keeping his guard up, yet he was falling for a woman with secrets—and somehow, she felt like the most honest thing he’d ever known.
He glanced at the clock. She’d be here soon. And as he waited, his mind drifted—unbidden—to the night that had changed everything between them.
Two nights earlier, she had climbed the steep hill toward the courthouse, the lamps along Main Street glowing below like a scatter of gold.
Burke had asked her to meet him there, had called it “a piece of Sylva you ought to see.” He hadn’t been sure if she would come, but when her silhouette appeared at the base of the 104 steps, something inside him eased.
He had waited at the top, hat in hand, the old brick building rising behind him like a sentinel.
Briefly, he wondered if she saw what he saw—that somehow, someway, he belonged here.
That the town, the history, the weight of his father’s badge stitched him into its fabric whether he wanted it or not.
The courthouse clock chimed eight as she climbed the last of the stone steps. From this height, Sylva stretched out beneath them—Main Street lit with amber lamplight, the Blue Ridge Mountains looming dark and endless beyond.
He had stood near the top, leaning against one of the old brick pillars. When her eyes found him, something shifted inside him.
“You’re late,” he’d said, though the grin tugging at his mouth softened the words.
“I had to see what the fuss was about.” She’d turned, gazing back down the steps. “This view is worth every step I nearly lost.”
He chuckled. “My dad used to say these steps separated the locals from the tourists. The locals know you take ’em slow.”
“Your dad?” she asked.
Burke nodded, his gaze drifting to the courthouse dome. “Burton Scott. He wore this badge before me. Sheriff of Jackson County for over twenty years. Fair. Hard when he had to be, but fair. People stop me on the street to tell me what he did for them. I don’t figure I’ll ever fill those boots.”
When she told him softly, “I think you already have,” the words had struck him deeper than she could have known.
They’d sat together on the broad steps, the night air cool against their faces. The courthouse bell tolled again, echoing across the town like a memory.
“Somebody once told me life’s too short not to take the joy you can,” his voice had softened. “Her advice sticks more now than it ever did when I was a boy.”
“She sounds wise.”
“She is,” he replied, leaving it at that.
He could feel her next to him, small but steady, and when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the weight of something unsaid dragging at her shoulders.
Secrets. Always secrets. He hadn’t pushed.
Instead, he turned, catching her eyes as if he could read the war inside her.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m just thinking,” she’d said, her smile trembling at the edges.
“About what?”
She’d hesitated, and then the words had slipped out—words that cut right through him. “About how sometimes the hardest thing is letting yourself believe you deserve to be happy.”
He hadn’t looked away. “Then maybe we’ve both got some learning to do.”
The truth of it had hit him like a stone tossed into deep water, rippling outward, impossible to ignore. They had kissed before—brief, accidental brushes of mouths born of circumstance—but nothing that carried weight. Not until now.
For the first time in a long while, she had reached out, lightly touching his arm.
He remembered the way her fingers trembled against his sleeve, how the touch seared straight through him.
He’d looked at her, and the world had narrowed.
She leaned in, hesitation giving way to want, and he met her halfway.
Their lips met in a tentative brush, a promise both gentle and electric.
As the kiss deepened, emotion surged—exhilarating and terrifying.
Burke’s hands had found her waist, pulling her closer, and for the first time in his life he felt something dangerous and undeniable—hope.
Hope, and a fierce need to keep her safe.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, he was left shaken in a way that no fight, no case, no loss had ever done. And when her eyes lifted to his, he knew. He was falling for her. And God help him, he didn’t want to stop.
The memory lingered, warm and unsettling, stirring something deep in his chest. He blinked, the present sliding back into focus, the scent of steak seasoning grounding him.
Burke was seasoning the steaks when he heard the familiar purr of Darcy’s car pulling into the driveway.
He glanced toward the window, and the setting sun caught her hair, gilding it in warm gold.
She stepped out of the car—casual yet stunning in her cream sweater and jeans—and when she knocked, he called out warmly, “Well, hello there, gorgeous.”
He leaned in, lips brushing her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.”
A blush touched her cheeks. “Something smells amazing.”
With a grin, he gestured toward the kitchen. “I might not be a master chef, but I can handle a couple of steaks on the grill. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.”
He took her hand and led her onto the covered deck. A river-rock fireplace roared to life, casting a flickering glow over the outdoor sofa. A bottle of wine and two glasses waited on the low table. She shivered, and he said, “Come by the fire. I’ll pour us some wine before I start the grill.”
She took the glass he handed her, then caught his wrist before he could stand. “Sit with me for a minute first.”
The way she looked at him left no room for refusal. He dropped down beside her, arm sliding around her shoulders.
“Cheers,” he said softly, clinking her glass. “To a beautiful evening… with a beautiful woman.”
They watched the last sliver of sun slip behind the trees, the autumn air cool and crisp around them.
When he set his glass down, he tipped her chin toward him.
His first kiss was gentle, testing, but when she parted her lips, the restraint of the last eight weeks broke like dry tinder under a flame.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, answering his need with her own.
Without a word, he rose, took her hand, and led her inside.
Upstairs, firelight from the stone hearth bathed the room in a golden glow. Honey-toned logs lined the walls, their grain catching the flicker. A quilt of deep reds and greens lay across the bed beneath tall windows spilling pale moonlight.
He faced her, eyes searching hers. “Is this okay?”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “Yes.”
The kiss—slow at first, then urgent—unraveled all the patience of the past two months.
His hands traced the curve of her back, drawing her until their bodies pressed close—until she could feel the steady thrum of his heart echoing the wild beat of her own.
Her breath hitched when his thumb brushed a line under the hem of her sweater, heat blooming in every place he touched.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging softly, the need between them sparking hotter with every touch.
When his mouth grazed along her jaw and dipped to the hollow beneath her ear, she shivered—his whisper a soft promise against her skin.
He steadied her face in his hands, holding her just so, watching her.
He saw the moment she let herself soften against him—felt the shift as her arms tightened, as she let herself be held.
It was as if some quiet battle inside her had ended, and she’d decided, finally, to trust him with all of it.
The way she clung to him—something in it went beyond passion.
It broke him open, filled him with a fierce hope.
Their bodies moved together as if finding a forgotten language, each kiss coaxing another, deeper, more desperate, until restraint gave way and she gasped his name against his skin.
Burke slid his hands beneath her sweater, fingertips gliding up her spine, and she arched into him, her breath shivering as he pressed his lips along her jaw, down her neck.
She pulled him closer, wanting more, her fingers tugging at his shirt, needing to feel every inch of him—solid, warm, real.
They moved together in a feverish, tender dance, every barrier falling away in the hush of golden firelight, finding in each other something that felt both inevitable and new.
As layers fell away, Burke pulled back just long enough to look at her, his voice rough and reverent.
“You’re beautiful.” The words landed like an anchor, grounding her, and for once she didn’t look away or hide.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered, not even realizing the words had escaped.
He answered not with a promise but with a kiss—deeper, more certain—his hands finding every place that hurt, every place that needed soothing.
I need you. The words slipped through her like a prayer. Don’t let this end.
In his arms, she felt it—the slow, certain truth that she was already his, and he was hers, if only for this night. As their breathing slowed and the hush settled around them, she lay on his chest, felt his heart finally steady, and realized she was home.
It scared him, how much he needed her—and how much he wanted to be needed in return.
He pressed his lips to her hair, and neither of them said another word. There was nothing left to say, and everything left to feel.
Darcy
Later, when the fire had burned low and the world had gone quiet around them, Darcy lay close to Burke, the flames casting playful shadows across the room as she listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
For the first time in years, she felt whole—like every fractured part of her had finally found a place to rest. Home.
He was strikingly handsome—his tousled blond hair catching the flicker of firelight, his shoulders broad, his arms strong and relaxed around her.
His warmth lingered on her skin, his aftershave faint and familiar—clean and woodsy with a hint of spice that was entirely Burke.
When she shifted slightly, her cheek brushed against him, his quiet steadiness grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
Her mind drifted through the past eight weeks, her heart swelling with gratitude for the gentle, thoughtful man beside her. He was the epitome of a real man—no bravado, no need to prove himself. His quiet strength said more than words ever could.
Heat rose to her cheeks as she recalled the passion they had just shared—a heady mix of tenderness and fire.
His hands had cradled her face, his gaze so steady it felt as though he could see right through her.
Every fiber of her being hummed with the terrifying truth—she was falling in love with him.
Should she tell him? The urge sat heavy in her chest, but so did the knowledge that revealing her feelings might mean revealing her secrets. And Burke’s devotion to the law ran deep. She had seen it firsthand.
Nestled against him, her mind drifted back to the night they’d gone riding and he’d been called to search for two missing children.
She had watched from his truck as he found them—a little girl of six, her brother maybe eight—huddled on a park bench.
Their mother had left them at the swings and never came back.
Burke had knelt, spoken softly, and carried the little girl as if she were his own.
He’d bought them ice cream before delivering them safely to their grandmother, making sure the mother’s story was understood.
Darcy’s heart had soared that night. That was when she knew she loved him.
The memory faded, leaving a soft ache in her chest. Here, now, in Burke’s arms, she felt that same truth humming beneath her skin…
A sudden vibration jolted her from the memory. Her jeans, crumpled on the floor, buzzed. She reached for them and pulled out her burner phone. The screen glowed with one new voicemail.
She slipped into the adjoining bathroom and pressed play. Izzy’s voice came through, low and urgent: “Cate, call me. We need to talk—it’s urgent.”
A cold rush of dread coiled in her stomach. Whatever this was, it could change everything.
She dressed quickly, glanced once more at Burke sleeping, and slipped out, her bare feet silent on the steps.
The night air hit her—cool, sharp. The scent of him lingered, warm and steady, a ghost she couldn’t leave behind.
She hurried to her Jeep, gravel crunching beneath her boots. Once on the main road, she pulled into a gravel lot and dialed Izzy. Her gut told her one thing for sure—whatever was coming would shatter everything she’d just begun to hope for.