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Because I knew her.
She wouldn’t have asked for help.
Not from me, not from Emmett, and certainly not from the people in this town.
Stubborn woman.
Muttering quietly, I make the turn, and it takes me a moment to realize where I’m going.
My fingers clench around the steering wheel as my heart starts to beat faster.
It was instinctual. Honed from many, many times, I’d done exactly the same thing over the years.
To seek her out. Made sure that she was okay. Because she so rarely opened up. To everybody else, she was a badass. Nothing could faze Rebecca Williams, but I knew her. I knew her tender heart and how it could bleed without anybody noticing.
Just a quick stop.
I won’t even get out of the car.
Just pass by her place to make sure they made it home safely.
Yes, just a…
All the thoughts that were swirling inside my head were gone as I slowed down my car when I came to the two-story farmhouse in front of me. The bright yellow color is slightly faded, but the place still looks tidy. The grass is neatly cut, and there are pots with flowers decorating the front porch. A light is on in the kitchen on the first floor. But that’s not what draws my attention.
No.
It’s the woman sitting in the darkness on the swing on the front porch. She’s hunched forward, her elbows digging into her knees, her face buried into her palms.
She must hear my car because she looks up, and I can see traces of tears clinging to her cheeks.
A pain I haven’t felt in years slams into me, and everything I had told myself mere seconds ago goes up in the air.
Fuck this.
Putting the car in park, I jump out and jog toward her.
There is a split-second moment in which she looks around,her fight or flight response kicking in, only there is nowhere to go.
“What happened?” I ask as I climb the steps, the need to do something, anything, to stop her from crying, like a vice grip squeezing around my throat.
I could never take her tears. There was just something about seeing this strong, resilient woman break that shattered me. It didn’t matter what I had to do. I’d do it just to erase that look from her face.
“Is it your mom? Did something happen?”
“No,” Rebecca whispers, her voice hoarse from crying. “Mom’s fine. I just put her to bed.”
Embarrassment flashes on her face, and she looks away, wiping away at her cheek with the back of her hand.
I move closer, crouching down in front of her. My finger slips under her chin as I slowly turn her to face me.
Her hazel eyes are filled with so much sorrow, and my heart breaks for her.
“How long?” I ask softly.
I’m not sure why it was so important for me to know this, but it was.
There is a beat of silence as her teeth worry her lower lip, guilt flashing on her face as she says softly, so softly it takes my brain a moment to register her words.
