Chapter Thirty-one
Beckett
SOFTLY
Performed by Lonestar
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
HIM: Thought you were coming over?
Minutes later.
HIM: Maise?
Minutes later.
HIM: I’m giving you two more minutes, and then I’m coming to find you.
HER: Sorry. I can’t come. I had two escaped chickens to deal with, and the Helmers' dog thought it would be fun to chase them down to the creek. I’m a muddy mess, and once I clean up, I can’t leave Mom alone.
HIM: Chelsea was supposed to be there tonight. She promised.
HER: Randy called, so she went scurrying over to his place.
HIM: Cleaver’s brother? Isn’t he, like, twenty-two or something?
HER: I think. Does it matter?
HIM: She’s underage.
HER: Chelsea knows what she’s doing and what she wants. Believe me.
HIM: So you’re alone. Again. I’m on my way.
PRESENT DAY
The whole time I was makingmy way back to the barn with Parker, Fallon, and the horses, my anger steadily grew. It only continued to morph as I drove my SUV through the windy back roads to town. It wasn’t only directed at the asshole responsible for hurtingMaisey’s dad. It was at Maisey herself. For not trusting me. For trying to handle this on her own. For putting herself in danger and falling right into the attacker’s plans.
I didn’t know what had led her to the watchtower and her father, but it must have been whoever was doing this telling her how to find him. By doing so, she’d played right into their hands. They could have been there, waiting to hurt her as well as her dad.
She could have died.
It could have been her lying on that stretcher.
My heart didn’t just ache…it bled.
When I pulled into the drive of my house, Sweeney stepped onto the porch.
“Once I heard you found Lewis, I came back here to check on things. The house is clear,” he said.
“Thanks,” I responded, but I couldn’t keep my fury out of my voice. “I’m just here to drop Vader off, change, and grab some dry clothes for Maisey.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything else as I stormed into my house with my rage barely in check. By the time I threw off my drenched clothes, pulled on new ones, and found some things for Maisey, I’d only grown more aggravated. At myself. At her. At the entire screwed-up situation.
But mostly at whoever had done this.
As I came out of the guest room with a duffel over my shoulder, Sweeney stopped me. “You go to the hospital all half-cocked and ready to fight, you’re not going to help our little Maisey.”