It doesn’t fit.
It doesn’t fit so hard that it makes my teeth grind.
“Do you believe him?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“No,” Caroline says instantly. “No. I don’t. Charlotte doesn’t either. But Charlotte’s scared. She said William sounded pleased.”
My stomach turns.
Pleased is not a word that belongs anywhere near Faith. It means he’s got control again.
“Where exactly is she?” I ask. “Did he say?”
“He didn’t give an address,” Caroline says. “Just that she’s ‘home’ and they’re ‘handling it privately.’ He told Charlotte Faith is happy. He said she asked for space.”
Space.
That word again. It’s a blanket you throw over a problem until it stops looking so bad.
My jaw clenches hard enough to hurt. “Faith didn’t ask for space. Not from you.”
Caroline’s breath hitches on the other end. “I know.”
The office suddenly feels too small. Too warm. The walls are pressing in. I shove my chair back and stand, pacing between the desk and the window, boots thudding on the worn wood.
Outside, snow drifts, the world pretending it’s calm.
Inside me, everything is a storm.
“Dallas,” Caroline says, quieter now, “I don’t know what to do.”
That does something to me. Hearing it. Because Caroline Ross isn’t weak. She’s not soft in the way people mistake for fragile. She’s a woman who survived William Ross and still managed to raise two daughters with gentleness in her hands.
If she doesn’t know what to do, it’s because something is wrong enough to shake her.
“I’m going to call Faith,” I say.
Caroline hesitates. “What if… what if he’s watching her phone?”
“I’ll call anyway.”
“What if she did go back?” Caroline asks softly, and I can hear how much it costs her to say it. Letting the possibility out loud makes it more real. “What if she…”
What if she chose it?
What if she’s decided Buckhorn was a mistake, and I was a distraction, and she’s gone back to the life that fits on paper?
My chest constricts.
I could survive that. Maybe. I’ve survived a lot.
But surviving and being okay aren’t the same thing.
“She wouldn’t vanish like that,” I say, because I have to believe it. “Not without telling you. Not without… something.”
Caroline’s voice breaks just a fraction. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’ll call you back,” I promise, and hang up before the knot in my throat turns into something I can’t hold.
