“My dad is here,” Maisey responded. “And Tejas was here yesterday, helping us move in.”
Cleaver’s lips tightened. “Guess the rumor is true, then.” He looked at Maisey’s ringless hand, disappointment all but radiating from him. “You two really are getting hitched?”
It was much more than just playing a part that had me hooking my arm around Maisey’s waist and pulling her tight up against me as I said, “Yep.”
She briefly stiffened before relaxing and leaning into me.
Cleaver looked like he might actually cry before he turned back to the door. He took a dozen pictures and then stepped off the porch, saying he was going to walk the perimeter.
I should have done the same thing. I’d cleared the house but hadn’t thought about whoever this was lingering outside, safely away from my dog’s teeth. They could have been watching and waiting this whole time.
A chill ran up my spine, and my anger turned into a backdraft, just waiting for more oxygen to burst forth and destroy everything in its wake.
When Cleaver returned, he scratched his clean-shaven jaw and said, “I don’t see any unusual activity anywhere else around the house. Nofootprints by windows or broken windows. Suzanne mentioned something about another note. Do you still have it?”
Maisey shook her head. “But I took a picture.”
“Send it over to me, so we’ll at least have it for the file.”
“Do you still have the same number?” she asked.
Cleaver nodded, disappointment flashing once more, which only caused my ridiculous jealousy to flare again. How could I not want anyone else to have Maisey, when I knew I’d never be able to give her the happily ever after she wanted? I knew it wasn’t healthy, for me or Maisey, and yet I couldn’t seem to control it.
The deputy’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at the image she’d sent him. “Similar wording. Any idea who’s behind it?”
He looked up from his phone at the two of us. Maisey shot me a knowing look that seared my chest with regret.
“The only person who’s ever been upset about my…relationship with Beckett has been Delilah,” she said softly.
“Waiting for someone you care about to return your feelings can certainly make you do stupid things. Can make you wait years for the right moment to appear,” Cleaver responded, eyes full of hearts that only made the wild and feral jealousy beating in my veins grow stronger.
Maisey missed his innuendo, but I returned the glare Cleaver sent my way.
Maisey’s dad joined us on the porch. His face was grim as he took in the vandalism. When he glanced my way, I saw concern layered with a hint of the anger rolling in me. But he didn’t drop any of the accusations he could have—that I’d put her in danger or that I’d done little to protect her.
Instead, he looked at Maisey and said, “The pizzas are ready. Why don’t we head over to Jack’s to pick them up while Josh and Beckett handle this?”
“Let me just get my purse,” Maisey said.
She slipped inside the house and picked up her bag from the side table by the door. Cleaver studied it as she came out.
“Was your purse right there all along?” When she nodded, he asked, “Are you missing any cash or credit cards?”
She pulled out her wallet, thumbed through it, and then shook her head.
“Not a robbery, then,” Cleaver said.
“I don’t think a robber would have left a fucking note.”
“Beckett,” Maisey scolded softly.
I gritted my teeth. She was right. I shouldn’t take out my pissy attitude on the deputy. I fought to rein in my turbulent emotions, trying my best to push them down to a slow simmer.
But then, as Maisey and her dad headed down the steps, she looked back at Cleaver and said, “Call me if you need anything else.”
That’s all it took for everything to leap back up to a boil. I hated the idea of him calling her as much as I hated the way he watched her walk all the way to the truck.
As Maisey’s pickup disappeared down the street, Sandy pulled up to the curb.