I’d thought my dad’s death was just bad luck.
Now I’m not so sure.
Eli was willing to do whatever he needed to get me to sell him the ranch—did he do the same to my dad? It doesn’t matter now—Eli’s gone, and the past can’t be changed—but something doesn’t sit right with me.
Lily puts her hand on my arm, looking like she wishes she could retract the last couple of minutes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I roll my shoulders, shaking this off, setting aside with new information to examine later. “No, I’m glad you did.” Smiling, almost normally, I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”
The regret fades from Lily’s face, and she smiles at Hank as he sets her beer in front of her. “It must have been a shock, having to uproot your life and come back.”
“I was ready.” I shrug. “I travel a lot for work, anyway.”
Harper leans in. “Emma takes pictures of pussies.”
I smack her shoulder. To Lily, I say, “I’m a wildlife photographer. I’m known for my photos of wild cats.”
Harper laughs. “My description was more interesting.”
We fall into easier conversation after that—Harper telling stories about growing up in Iron Ridge, me chiming in with my own memories, Lily listening more than talking but slowly, gradually relaxing.
By the time we're halfway through our second round of drinks, the tension that gripped me has loosened its grip—just enough that I almost forget about it.
Almost.
Because there’s still that feeling, low and restless under my skin. Like something’s not right. Like someone’s watching—like something’s waiting for me when I leave.
42
JAKE
Emma’s enjoying herself.
And I’m enjoying watching her, thanks to the cameras Mason set up in the bar today. Not gonna chance her safety.
Picking up the whiskey I poured for myself after I let myself into her house, I lean against the kitchen counter and expand the view on my phone. I know she won’t drink more than she has, not when she’s driving. Meaning she’ll be home soon.
Downing my drink, I set the glass back next to the bottle on the kitchen counter, right where her father always kept it. Phone in my back pocket, I walk up the stairs to her bedroom. The lights are off. I test the third step from the top—still squeaks, just like it did eighteen years ago.
No, she doesn’t know I’m in her house.
If she thinks I’m waiting for an invitation, she’s about to learn better.
43
EMMA
The drive home from the Rusty Spur is quiet, just the hum of my truck's engine and the occasional crackle of gravel under my tires. The whiskey sits warm in my belly, making everything feel softer around the edges—the darkness, the empty road, the uncertainty gnawing at me.
I had a good night. A really good night, except for the one moment when I found out that there was an inquest into Dad’s accident. But that’s already reconciled in my mind. I’ll just call Sheriff Garrett in the morning and ask him.
Harper and Lily were exactly what I needed—easy conversation, genuine laughter, the kind of female friendship I've been missing since I broke up with my ex and all our friends turned out to be only his. Tonight felt normal, like I was just Emma Hayes again.
But now, driving home alone in the dark, the uncertainty creeps back in—and a reluctance to be alone, even knowing Eli Turner can’t bother me.
Only Jake hasn’t invited me over tonight.
Sure, he texted earlier, but feeling protective is duty, not love, and he didn’t ask me to come to Blackthorn. He didn’t say he wants to see me.
