She trembled. She wasn’t in the wet clothes anymore, but she still had to be cold, her bare feet icy. I crouched in front of her, tugged one foot onto my knee, causing her to catch her balance by placing a hand on my shoulder. I rubbed her toes, trying to bring some warmth to them, before dragging a sock on. I repeated the process with the other foot before I risked looking up at her.
Her fury had disappeared once more, and in its wake, the grief had returned. A sadness so deep I could almost taste it in the air. I’d seen this look on her before, after her mom had died, when I’d found her, holding her dead mother’s hand in her parents’ bedroom.
I’d been there for her back then, just as Fallon had, but I’d pulled away a bit after that. I hadn’t liked or wanted the feelings she’d raised in me. I knew now it had been one of the many mistakes I’d made with Maisey over the years, and I wouldn’t ever repeat them. I wasn’t going to step back and let dead space take up room between us ever again.
I snagged her hand, brought it to my mouth, and kissed the palm. “Don’t disappear on me, my Maisey-girl. I’m here. I won’t let you down. I swear on everything I hold holy, I won’t let you down. Trust me to help you through this.”
The tears came again—slow trails down her cheeks.
“They want me to leave.” She said it so quietly I almost couldn’t hear the words.
“Who? What do you mean?” I asked, standing up and watching every emotion as it flitted across her face. Grief. Fear. Remorse. Resignation.
She finally shook her head, looking down and away before shoving her feet into the slip-on sneakers I’d brought for her. “The person who did this to Dad. They made me promise to leave Swift Rivers. To leave and never come back. It was the only way I could get them to tell me where Dad was.”
“Screw that.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded threatening. Dark.
Wide eyes met mine as she brushed at the tears still littering her cheeks. Her voice broke as she tried to explain, tried to justify leaving. “They said they’d hurt everyone I love. You. Fallon. Lila. They said they’d start another fire and burn down the ranch if I didn’t go. All I have to do is leave, and everyone is safe.”
Surprise winged through me. Surprise and hurt and rage.
She was trying to leave.
Like my mom. Like Liza. I’d given her my heart, because I’d sworn she’d never do what they had, she’d never slice me open and leave me bleeding the way they’d done to my father. To me—
No. I cut off all my thoughts.
I wasn’t letting her go. I wasn’t letting the cycle of abandonment repeat.
More, I wasn’t letting her give in to some fucker who thought he could manipulate her into getting what he wanted.
I reached for her, and she stepped back.
“I won’t risk everyone’s lives, Beckett. I can’t!”
“You’re not leaving, Maisey. I. Won’t. Let. You.”
“So, everyone just dies so I can stay?”
I shook my head, brushing aside the fear that still remained at the idea of losing her, even as another idea took hold—one that gave me a sense of hope. “No one is dying. No one is leaving. The truth is, they screwed themselves over by demanding it.”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“All we have to do is figure out who benefits from you leaving, and we’ll know who this is. They tipped their hand.” I reached out and hooked her pinky with mine. My chest loosened another hair when she didn’t pull away this time. “Were those their exact words?”
She frowned. “Which ones?”
“Anotherfire?”
Realization dawned. “Yes.”
“So, the fire at your dad’s house was them. That happened before I heard about the chief retiring and we told folks we were engaged. This gives us even more information. This is someone who would benefit from you being gone and the house burning down.”
She met my gaze, both of us thinking about how Carter had been pushing us to sell. The story unfolding was an old one—if the owners wouldn’t sell, you threatened them, burned them out, or found another way to get them to leave.
Before we could talk about it further, a loud knock on the bathroom door was preceded by Cleaver’s voice. “Maisey, the doctor wants to talk to you.”
More doubts pummeled me. Cleaver hadn’t made any progress on any of the notes and attacks. Was it on purpose? Carter was his cousin—their mothers were sisters. Were they working this together? I didn’t want to believe it. Cleaver had all but threatened my life at the idea of me even hurting Maisey. But had it been an act?