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It was unthinkable.
He wore some kind of plastic mask over his scars, which explained why he’d looked so eerily shiny in the sunlight earlier. “Everything okay?”
“I’m headed to town to meet Alexis and Cal.”
Shane nodded once. “Good.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a heads up what this is about?”
“Nope.”
“Of course not.” Connelly sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “Listen, Veronica’s shaken.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Yeah. Can you just... move closer to the house while I’m gone? The porch, if she’ll let you. I don’t want her to be alone.”
A smile tipped up the corner of Shane’s mouth. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Connelly opened his mouth to ask why not, but was interrupted by the convoy of vehicles pulling into the driveway. He recognized Zak’s truck and Donovan’s motorcycle. A Ford Bronco came next with Pierce St. James behind the wheel and Sawyer and Zelda in the passenger seat. The last vehicle was a Toyota Tacoma driven by Rylan Cross.
He climbed out of his car as they all pulled up into the yard. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
Donovan slowed his bike and killed the engine. Spirit sat behind him in a matching helmet, her paws up on his shoulders and her tongue spilling out of her mouth in a happy doggy grin. He flipped up his visor. “Veronica won’t come to therapy, so we’re bringing therapy to her.”
Zak leaned out his truck’s window. “She’s about to get an unprecedented dose of friendly intervention.”
Connelly frowned. Was this the right time for an intervention? He cast his gaze back up the driveway to the house, but found only darkness staring back. No silhouette. Veronica had retreated fully inside.
“She’s not going to like this,” he muttered.
Donovan shrugged. “Good.”
Connelly rubbed a hand over his face, feeling a headache starting to pound at his temples. This was a disaster waiting to happen. Veronica was still fragile. The last thing she needed was to be forced into something she clearly wasn’t ready for.
“Look,” he started, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but?—”
Donovan swung off the motorcycle and took off his helmet, revealing his close-cropped dark hair and the scars slicing across his skull from the injuries he’d sustained while a Marine. His grin was wide as he slapped Connelly on the back. “Relax, man. We’ve got this.”
“Just trust us, okay?” Zak added. “She needs this push.”
Connelly stared at the motley crew in front of him with apprehension. Each man wore an expression of resolute determination, their camaraderie tangible in the cool evening air. He knew they all cared for Veronica in their own way, but… Was this the best way to show it?
“Just... don’t push her too hard,” he finally said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
“We’ll be gentle with her.” Zak nodded toward the road. “Go talk to Alexis and Cal. You want to hear what they have to say.”
chapter twenty-three
What am I supposed to do now?
Veronica leaned against the door and stared down at the dogs. Alfie wagged. Rebel looked toward the window.
“I know, girl.” She bent down to rub the dog’s big head. “I already miss him, too.”
After Connelly’s constant presence in her life for the past few weeks, it felt achingly empty without him.
How had she ever lived with this silence?
