Page 28 of Jay Bird

Yet everything she’d witnessed since waking in the hospital had completely contradicted that first impression, especially when it came to Lily, because he was incredibly gentle with her.

Willow had watched a man built like he could lift a refrigerator without assistance patiently sit through Peppa Pig, help Lily put shoes on the wrong feet twice before convincing her to switch them, and listen with complete seriousness while a two-year-old explained why Ellie couldn’t possibly sleep without a blanket.

There was a softness beneath all that hard exterior.

Willow wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to notice it, but she had. Maybe it was because she’d spent the last three years learning to read people the way others read weather—carefully, constantly, always alert for the smallest change. With Chen, even the slightest shift in expression or tone could mean the difference between knowing when to disappear and accidentally walking straight into his anger.

Jay Bird wasn’t Chen. She knew that, but old habits didn’t just disappear because someone told her she was safe.

Her gaze drifted back to the window. The last couple of days had been exhausting in an entirely different way.

The doctors ended up keeping her one more day in the hospital just for precautionary reasons.

Riley, thank god had stayed by her side. Earlier in the day, Willow had finally given formal statements to both the Virginia Beach police and the FBI, detailing her ordeal over the last three years. She had even forced herself to describe everything she endured during her time in captivity.

There had been moments during the interviews when Willow had needed to stop because her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and other moments when she had found herself staring at the floor as though she were back in Chen’s house instead of sitting in a hospital room surrounded by people trying to help her.

Riley had never rushed her, and neither had the agents. They let her take her time, pausing whenever she needed it, never pushing for more than she could give.

A soft snore came from behind them, and Jay Bird’s gaze flicked toward the rearview mirror.

“She out?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“She was fighting it when we got her in the seat.”

Willow smiled. “She’s stubborn.”

“Wonder where she gets that.”

Willow slowly turned her head. “Was that aimed at me?”

“I didn’t say a name,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it, surprising even herself. She was starting to get a feel for his humor now—subtle, easy to miss at first, like it crept up on you when you weren’t paying attention.

A few minutes later, Jay Bird slowed the SUV and turned toward a large gated entrance.

Willow sat up straighter and looked around. Tall brick columns stood on either side of the road, and beyond the gate she could see large properties spread out beneath trees.

Jay Bird reached toward a small remote clipped near the visor and pressed a button.

The gate slowly opened.

Willow glanced at him. “You live in a gated neighborhood?”

“Yep.” He said it as casually as if she had asked whether he owned a toaster.

They drove through, and Willow watched the houses pass. Plenty of space separated each property, which she liked immediately. Some houses were partially hidden behind trees, while others sat farther back from the road with expansive lawns.

Jay Bird eventually turned onto a long driveway near the end of the street.

The house at the end of the driveway was nothing like what she had imagined when he’d casually mentioned having a spare bedroom. Built from sand-colored brick with darker trim around the windows and front entrance, it looked calm and solid from the road—almost modest at first glance. But as they drew closer, Willow realized it was far from small. A second-floor section rose toward the back, revealing itself like a quiet surprise, and the more she looked, the more the scale of it settled in. It was big.

“You neglected to mention you live in a small resort.”

Jay Bird glanced at her. “It’s a house.”