“Am chef,” Maddie declares, her little voice high and full of determination.
“I am the chef,” Nysa corrects her, but she laughs. The sound filling the kitchen like sunlight, and I swear my heart stumbles in my chest.
This woman—this incredible woman—has no idea what she does to me. How perfect she is . . . so fucking amazing.
She’s like a piece of broken pottery, put back together by her own hands. Every crack and flaw tells a story, and she carries them all with a strength that humbles me.
She’s so afraid of living, of letting herself want something more, but I hope she sees it. I hope she sees how brave she is, how amazing.
How she’s already changed everything for me and Maddie.
I don’t know what this is between us, or if it even is anything, but as I stand there watching her, one thought settles deep in my chest:
I want her to stay.
Not just for Maddie.
For me.
Chapter Nineteen
Hopper
Today, Nysa came with Maddie to feed the chickens but plans to go back to my mother’s old place after lunch—before nap time. Everything has been quiet all morning when suddenly the sound of a car grabs my attention. I glance out through the barn door to see Malerick’s cruiser rolling up the driveway, dust kicking up behind it.
It’s been three days since Malerick and his team started digging deeper into what was found on Nysa’s land, and every update has been worse than the last. I step out of the barn as he parks, his door creaking open. His expression is grim, the kind that tells me I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” I say, leaning against the barn doorframe, trying to keep my tone light . . . okay, I’m mocking him.
“Cut the shit out.” He glares at me, shutting the door behind him. His eyes flick to the house briefly before returning to me. “I heard Nysa is here, which goes against what I asked you to do. Keep them safe—away from here.”
“I can’t abandon the animals. They just came to visit. We’ll be heading back to Mom’s after lunch,” I say defensively.
He groans, but then says, “Well, might as well do this together. I have to talk to both of you.”
I cross my arms. “What is it?”
Mal doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls a folder from under his arm, holding it out to me. I take it, flipping it open, my eyes scanning the grainy black-and-white photo of a young man.
“His name was Marcus Fallon,” Malerick says. “Reported missing three years ago. He’s from Boston, where he disappeared without a trace. Someone mentioned he had a big debt but nothing else came out of it.”
“Three years?”
“Yeah,” Malerick confirms, his voice grim. “We ID’d him through dental records. He was the first body we found on Nysa’s land.”
I let out a slow breath, my mind racing.
“The Fallons aren’t just powerful—they’re untouchable,” he states. “There are other agencies now involved looking into what’s happening and who we have in here.”
“How the hell did he end up buried there?” I ask, my voice low.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Malerick replies. “But it’s not just him.”
I glance up sharply. “What do you mean?”
He hesitates for a moment, then pulls out another photo, this one of a young woman with striking features and a smile that could light up a room.
“Her name’s Cassandra DeLuca,” he says. “She was a New York heiress. Went missing about eight years ago. There was a ransom demand—her family paid it—but she was never found. Until now.”
