I don’t give myself time to think.
Thinking is dangerous right now. Thinking turns into pictures I don’t want. Thinking turns into blame.
I just… need some air.
I’m halfway to the front door when Boone stops me.
“Where are you going?”
He’s in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, a mug in one hand, his expression already alert. Rose is behind him, Wyatt on her hip, Ellie tugging at her sleeve with a paper snowflake.
My throat tightens at the sight of them. Life continuing, kids asking for snacks, the world refusing to stop spinning just because mine might. I think of Lila at home, my mother keeping her busy so that she doesn’t see the mess I am.
“Caroline called,” I say. “William’s claiming Faith is back in the city.”
Boone’s face goes still. Rose’s eyes widen.
“Back?” Rose repeats.
“Yeah.” I drag a hand over my jaw. “He says she went willingly.”
Boone’s mouth hardens. “Bullshit.”
“I know. I just… I need a moment, then I’ll call her.”
“What’s the plan?”
I shrug at Boone helplessly. “I guess I just need to see where her head is first. Then I’ll plan.”
If Faith answers, I don’t know if I’ll be relieved or wrecked. I don’t know if she’ll be crying or calm. I don’t know if she’ll tell me to leave her alone.
I don’t know if it’ll be her.
“If she answers,” I say slowly, “I’m going to ask her one question.”
Boone nods once. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “That.”
Rose’s gaze softens. “Dallas…”
I don’t let her finish, because whatever she’s about to say will crack me when I’m barely holding together as it is.
I step outside into the cold and dial.
Straight to voicemail.
My hands start shaking, and I hate it. I hate that I can fix a fence line in a blizzard and wrestle a thousand-pound animal out of a bad situation, but I can’t stop my own body from reacting when I think about Faith being on the other end of a phone and not being able to reach her.
“Come on,” I mutter into the cold, breath fogging. “Come on, Faith.”
I call again, and again, until I can’t pretend I’m doing anything but torturing myself.
The last time it goes straight to voicemail, I just stand there, staring at the snow-covered yard, the ranch quiet around me, trying to remind me how solid feels.
My fingers hover over the screen.
I swallow hard and hit record before I can talk myself out of it.
