Page 33 of Hearts at War

Still do.

“And it wasn’t ideal, finding Jerry’s rental broken into before you arrived.”

I shrugged. “That cabin is suiting me well.”

“Okay.” Once more, he rubbed the back of his neck, almost shy. “Look, don’t be so hard on yourself and all. For having to move back home.”

I didn’t reply, watching him now that I’d put my two bags in the backseat. I couldn’t decipher what the meaning of this talk was. If he was merely reaching out to me to ensure I was content and safe, then that was...sweet?

“I’m just saying I know living in Burton isn’t what you want. But for what it’s worth, I think it can’t be all bad for you.”

Huh. That was the most I’d ever heard him talk at once.

“Thanks, Eric.” And I was grateful. I appreciated his kind words, as unexpected as they were.

Somehow, knowing my cousin cared enough to tell me this made me feel less alone. Made me feel more worthy.

That deep sense of safety and worth was hard to come by after David, and I was happy that he could overcome his anxiety to extend this olive branch, so to speak.

But this glow of feeling like I belonged, like I mattered, wasn’t the same as the way I felt when Roarke walked me home. When he’d switched from being stern and combative to caring and considerate to see me back to my cabin.

And when he appeared to lean in, for a kiss.

Stop. That didn’t happen. I insisted that it was all in my mind.

I refused to analyze that feeling, that suggestion of inclusion and security with Roarke, any further.

Chapter 12

Roarke

I didn’t see Nevaeh for days.

Each time I came home, I wondered if she’d be there, sulking and pouting at my front door.

Or dodging me so she wouldn’t get caught trying to break into my home. She was the one who triggered my security app, not Heather. The sensors on the window had been triggered before I found Heather there.

It was getting colder out. Some days were too warm under the sun. Working hard with the horse and cattle could make a man sweat, but regardless of those fluke warm spells, there was no doubt that the nights were downright chilly.

She had to be staying somewhere, and not only that, somewhere relatively nearby if she was getting around or to Burton on a bike. Without a license—because she never got hers despite me offering to take her to classes for it—and without a car—because the last one she’d stolen broke down—she was limited with transportation.

No one in town would take her in. I knew that. Yet, no one mentioned her hanging around near their homes. If someone noticed her, that gossip would eventually get back to me.

Just before dinnertime, after work on Friday, I finally got word of her whereabouts, via a call from one of Burton’s police officers, I stopped at my front door and turned right back around to get in my truck for a drive into town.

“She did what now? What is it this time?” I asked, tired from a long day of work. Hell, I was exhausted from a long week of work. And I had to go in tomorrow too for a weekend shift.

“Shoplifting,” Marty replied. He was a decent cop, not a jerk who abused his power.

“Shoplifting,” I confirmed as anger streamed through me. “Right. Of course.”

“She was lifting jewelry outta the cases at the register.”

I scowled as I got in my truck. “Where?” Who actually sells hackable jewelry around here?

“The food mart off Main.”

I started the engine and drove. “You mean the convenience store? Lord Almighty.” I rolled my eyes. “They have something of quality there that’s worth shoplifting?”