“You know what might help?” he said.
“What?”
“Start the podcast again.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Go live.”
I stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Go live. Talk. Keep it normal. We monitor who comments. If someone’s nervous, they’ll be listening.”
I hesitated. “That feels like me becoming bait.”
“It’s not bait,” he said calmly. “It’s taking control.”
Control.I’d be in control instead of being the girl who got her file deleted. Instead of being the girl who panicked in the dark.
“You really think that will work?”
“I think if someone went to the trouble of accessing your laptop,” he said evenly, “they’re paying attention. And if it’s Travis, I’d love to catch that asshole in the act of doing something stupid I can arrest him for.”
A chill slid down my spine. From the corner of my eye, I saw movement next door. Levi’s curtain shifted slightly. He was still there. Still close.
Matt followed my glance, smiling faintly. “You’re not alone,” he said quietly.
“I know.” I wasn’t. And that realization felt bigger than I was ready to unpack.
Matt pushed off the counter. “Think about it. I’m going to get cameras set up outside. You’ll go live, and we’ll have eyes on this place. If anyone shows up, we’ll catch them. But don’t do it until I give you the all clear.”
“And if nothing happens?”
“Then we learned something.”
“And if something does happen?”
His jaw tightened. “Then we still learned something.”
He squeezed my shoulder before heading for the door. “Call me,” he added. “Anytime. Day or night. I’ll be here in minutes. Promise me.”
“I will. I promise.”
After he left, I stood there in the cool morning air, coffee warming my hands, the scent of bacon lingering in the trailer. The window between mine and Levi’s was still cracked open, a thin stream of cool air slipping through and brushing against my wrist. Outside, Sweetbriar was waking up. Gravel shifting under tires somewhere down the road. A screen door slamming. The distant bark of a dog.
Last night, fear had felt like something breathing down my neck. This morning, it felt more like a problem to solve.
I wrapped both hands around my coffee and let the warmth sink into my palms. I had spent so much time proving I could handle my own life that I hadn’t stopped to consider that maybe handling it didn’t mean handling it alone.
I wasn’t powerless.
I wasn’t reckless.
And I wasn’t losing my mind.
Something had happened. A file had been deleted. That was real.
But so was this—Levi across the narrow space between us. Matt was never more than five minutes away if I needed him. And I lived in a town that would notice if anything truly went wrong.
