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The worst lie I’ve ever told.
“I can’t make the drive, baby girl. For a lot of reasons. I reckon you’ll soon know.”
Tears spring to my eyes. Panic, sharp and searing snakes in my belly. There’s no way I can go back to Resurrection like I planned—calm and collected, pretending I have my life together.
Because Davis Montgomery has always seen right through me.
He’ll see all the lies. All my little secrets. All the bravado, all the bullshit. That I’m not strong. Maybe I never was.
Still, hope sings out in my soul.
Desperate, aching, desolate hope.
Nothing can erase the memory of those deep brown eyes and rugged grin. The broad-shouldered Marine I keep telling myself I’ve forgotten even if all I’ve done for the last six years is think of him.
Gripping the dog tag around my neck, I exhale. Aiden will come after me. I know it in my bones. He will never let me go.
I need Davis. In the worst possible way.
That man, that unforgettable man who still haunts my dreams.
“Okay,” I say with a shudder, feeling like I’m staring down the barrel of a crossroads. “Send Davis.”
Because I need a do-over.
Glancing down, I cup the small bud of my belly.
A really, really big fucking do-over.
“What’s the kid’s name again? Callie?”
“Cassie,” I snap back at Deputy Sheriff Buzz Topper.
Maybe it’s the thirty minutes of sleep I got last night, thanks to a god-awful nightmare that woke me up. Or maybe it’s the perpetual nasally drone of Topper’s voice. Either way, I was wide awake when Sheriff Richter called inMONSAR—the Montana Search and Rescue Team—to search for a little girl who went missing on top of Meadow Mountain.
Of course, it has to be a fucking kid.
I glare at Buzz, clench my fists and take a step toward him. “A little girl is missing. At least get her goddamn name right.”
Buzz, his chipmunk cheeks pink, stutters an apology and trips over his own two feet to get away from my wrath.
On an exhale, I glance down. The photo in my hand shows a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl in pigtails.Cassie Karr. Two years old.
“What’s up your ass?” Richter booms, appearing beside me. Despite the steady calm in his voice, his black eyes flash. Raised in Detroit, Sheriff Calvin Richter’s brought his own form of law to Resurrection. He could have his choice of any big city, but he’s here making the town his own.
I respect that.
I pocket the photo and watch Cassie’s mother sob on her front porch for so long I have to turn away.
The idea that someone doesn’t have their family fucking guts me.
If they don’t come home, I don’t come home. It’s that simple. A motto I live by even if I haven’t done right by it in the past.
My gut clenches, but I push through the hollow ache.
“Nothing,” I say.
Together, Richter and I trek across the frozen lawn toward a group of police officers. The howl of the wind and low conversation are all that can be heard. My SAR dog, Keena, trots impatiently next to me, ready to get to work.
