Amber, Stella’s friend, approaches, her small shoulders hunching under the weight of so many adult eyes. Richard recognizes her immediately. “She was with you?”
“I called,” Jessica says from behind him, her tone brittle. “Your mom didn’t answer.”
Amber bites her lip. “She’s getting her hair done. Dad’s golfing. There’s a path in the woods behind my house—it cuts through here. My parents know I take it all the time.”
Richard inhales sharply, the flush rising in his neck. “Get in the car, Stella, you’re coming with me. Amber, we’ll give you a ride home.”
Stella’s arms loosen around me, guilt overtaking relief. She knows she’s in for it. I want to tell Richard no—that she’s coming with me—but he’d never allow it. Not on his weekend, and not after this.
He looks at me then, eyes hard, voice pitched low so only I hear. “You need to fix whatever mess you’ve dragged into our lives, Alicia. Because next time, she might not come back.”
That’s not fair, and it’s not true—but he’s already turning away.
“Mom?” Stella’s voice is small.
“In the car,” Richard barks. His patience—what little he had—is gone.
“It’s okay, hon,” I say softly. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get home.”
“What’s he talking about?” she asks.
“A case,” I lie. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Stella!” Richard’s sharp tone makes her flinch.
Jessica hurries around to the passenger side, her usual cheerful energy replaced by nerves. She climbs in like she’s the one being punished.
“Go on,” I tell Stella again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her eyes dart from me to Noah, understanding flickering there—our panic, our closeness, the unspoken truth of us.
“Stella, so help me God?—”
“I’m coming,” she says quickly, stepping forward. Amber’s already waiting at the car door.
Noah’s hand finds the small of my back, solid and warm. Relief trickles through my body like water through a cracked dam—slow, uneven, but real. My knees shake, my arms ache from holding tension so long.
I lean into him, just enough to steady myself, keeping my expression neutral so Stella won’t see me break. She’s watching, wide-eyed, taking in everything.
When the car pulls away, the cold rushes in, empty and merciless. The street falls silent again, but nothing about the quiet feels peaceful.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Noah
The house is silent, but it’s a heavy silence.
The kind that settles low in your bones and hums there, a warning more than a quiet.
Alicia stands at the window, arms folded tight, watching headlights and taillights mingle on the street. Streetlight gold slides across her reflection: pale skin, tired eyes, the tremor of nerves she’s still trying to suppress.
I stand in the doorway, earbuds in place, speaking to Hudson, but watching her. Hudson’s voice fills one ear, but every other sense is tuned to Alicia—each small breath, each motionless second.
“Should we place security outside Richard Whitmore’s home?”
It’s a fair question. Alicia didn’t feel it was necessary—and I don’t think she wanted to open herself up to her ex’s fifty questions. But she might feel differently now.