Page 259 of Show Me

“I’ve been appropriately concerned.”

“You asked the receptionist if the chairs were supposed to be that uncomfortable because stress was bad for pregnant women.”

I unfold my arms and raise them palm up in front of me. “They were uncomfortable.”

“They were chairs.”

“They were terrible chairs.”

She shakes her head, laughing again as she straightens her clothes. “And then you offered me your jacket because the waiting room felt ‘slightly drafty.’”

“It was drafty.” The way her eyes shine makes my heart skip a beat. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed her. Us. Everything.

“It was seventy-two degrees.”

“I stand by my assessment.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. God. I’d forgotten how much I missed making her smile.

Her laughter fades as she studies me. “You really were scared.”

I don’t bother pretending otherwise. “Yeah.” The single word hangs between us. “I was.”

I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “I kept thinking about everything that happened. The attack. The concussion. The pills. What would’ve happened if Jake and I hadn’t shown up?” I swallow over the lump in my throat as my eyes sting harder than before. “I kept wondering if...."

I can't finish it. I don't have to. Ruby's fingers tighten around mine. “The baby is okay.”

“Our baby is okay,” I correct.

She smiles. This time without tears. “Yeah. Our baby is okay.”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four

Ruby

Later That Day

The late afternoon air carries the sharp bite of December, cold enough that every breath hangs white before disappearing.

Squirt nudges my calf with an impatient grunt.

“I know.” I scratch behind his ears before tipping another scoop of feed into the trough. The piglets swarm it. “You guys have life figured out.”

Samson ambles over a second later, slower than the others, shouldering one of the piglets aside with a grunt that sounds suspiciously offended.

“You always think somebody’s taking yours.”

He ignores me. Typical. The familiar routine settles something inside me.

For days I’ve walked out here expecting to find another note. Another gift. Another reminder that someone was watching.

Now.... It’s just pigs. Hungry. Loud. Perfectly ordinary.

The fence catches my attention as I make my way toward the gate. Straight. Solid. The new boards stand out against the weathered ones.

I trail my fingers across the smooth wood. He fixed it. Just like he said he would. Just like he fixed the porch light. The cameras. The kitchen. The broken window. Every time something fell apart.... He showed up.

Not because I asked. Because he was already there.