Chapter 19: Chapter 18

“Drink your tea,” Nora urged, pushing the mug closer to me.

Fallon squeezed my knee under the table. “Want some whiskey in it? That might help take the edge off.”

“Fallon Rosemary Colson. She does not need liquor right now,” Nora chastised.

Lolli fumbled in her purse. “What about one of my gummies? I just upped the potency of the blend.”

“Mom!” Nora snapped. “Do not try to get her high. There is law enforcement right outside, including your grandson.”

Lolli just kept right on looking. “Pot’s legal now, dear. And Rho has been of age for quite some time. In fact, she had one of my brownies at⁠—”

Nora held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear this.”

A laugh slipped from my lips and, God, I needed it. The release of pressure, of all the pent-up emotion.

Arden turned from her spot at the window, eyeing me carefully. As if she was worried I was cracking. And maybe I was. The fact that our sister, who barely left Cope’s property, was here in the middle of the night told me I should be concerned.

Her hand dropped to Biscuit’s head, and she stroked him softly. The animals always found their way to her. It was as if she spoke some language only they understood.

“You can stay at Cope’s if you want,” Arden said, her soft voice carrying a hint of a rasp. “With the season, he won’t be back for at least a month or two. And even if he was, he wouldn’t mind.”

I didn’t miss that she didn’t offer up her place. Arden liked her solitude, but even suggesting our brother’s place was a sacrifice on her part. The only way it worked for her to even live on Cope’s property was because hockey meant he was rarely home. Holidays and a few weeks during the offseason, that was it.

I smiled at Arden, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.”

“Just text if you change your mind. There are always guest rooms ready.”

“I will. Promise.”

Nora’s hand stroked my hair as she stood behind me. “I think you should come stay with me and Lolli. At least until they know what caused this. It’s too dangerous.”

I tried to fight the grimace that wanted to rise to my lips. I appreciated Nora more than I could say, but the last thing I wanted was to be hovered over.

Lolli sent me a wicked grin. “I’ll make you some more of those brownies…”

“Lolli, I was hallucinating for hours. No, thank you.” When she offered me one a few years ago, I’d had no idea what her special recipe entailed.

She frowned. “I might’ve made that batch a little too strong.”

Fallon snorted. “You think? Rho said the flowers in the garden were talking to her.”

The front door opened, and Biscuit let out a series of barks and growls as he charged toward the group of men.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered, jumping to my feet. The last thing we needed was Biscuit biting someone.

But Anson quickly moved in front of Trace, dropping low. As he crouched, he held out a hand. Biscuit slid to a stop.

“Easy, B,” Anson said. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Biscuit let out a low growl as he eyed Shep and Trace.

“They’re friends,” Anson assured the dog. He inched closer to Biscuit and scratched under his chin, then behind his ear. Biscuit’s back leg thumped wildly.

“You got a leash?” Anson asked.

I grabbed one from the hooks on the wall and fastened it to Biscuit’s collar. “It’s okay, buddy. Everyone here is nice.”

Trace looked from the dog to Anson. “You’ve got a way with him.”

Anson shrugged. “Won him over with treats.”

Shep chuckled, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Food is always the way.”

I looked at all three of the men standing in my entryway. “You found something.”

Trace wore his careful mask, the one that didn’t show too much of anything. “Why don’t we sit down?”

My stomach twisted, but I tugged Biscuit back toward the living room.

“Here,” Arden said. “I’ll take him.”

I handed off the leash, everything feeling a bit hazy. My gaze swept the room, looking for a place to sit. The space wasn’t exactly large and there were so many people.

Arden kept her spot near the window, off to the side—whatever place she could watch the room from best, keeping an eye out for any shift or change. Just like always. Lolli and Fallon were at the dining table, but their gazes were locked on Trace. There was no mischievous grin for Lolli, and no soft smile for Fallon. Nora stood, wringing her hands as if sitting was too much.

I lowered myself to the couch. There was a chair and an ottoman where someone could sit, but that was it. As if reading my anxiety, Shep crossed to the couch and took the seat next to me. He patted my knee. “We’re going to get it fixed. Don’t worry about that.”

I couldn’t look at him. My eyes had locked on Anson’s steely blues, and I couldn’t look away. I tried to read something in his expression, but I couldn’t pin anything down.

Trace cleared his throat and took a seat on the ottoman across from me. “There’s evidence of arson.”

I sucked in a breath. The inhale was so fast it hurt, my muscles seizing on instinct. “Someone tried to burn the house down?”

My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was as if some other being had taken over my vocal cords.

Trace hid any reaction from his expression. But that was his gift—a terrifying one. He could turn off his emotions in any situation and just go totally and completely blank. “They did.”

Nora was on the move then, crossing behind the couch. Her hands landed on my shoulders as if she needed to assure herself I was okay. “But who would do something like that?”

Trace’s focus lifted to her for a moment. “We’ve got crime scene techs in there now. We’re hoping we’ll find prints or something that will lead us to the perp.”

I felt Anson’s stare before I saw it, the probing heat of a single-minded focus. I lifted my gaze to lock with those blue-gray eyes again. They were almost all gray now. That was my only hint that there was more.

“We found something else,” Trace went on, but I didn’t look away from Anson.

“What?” Nora demanded.

“Some clippings, writing. Things that tell us this person is fixated on Rho.”

I tore my gaze from Anson and looked at Trace. “What were they?”

Trace shook his head. “You don’t need to know the details.”

“She does.” It was Anson who spoke, his voice low and steady.

Trace’s head snapped in his direction. “You don’t know what my sister needs.”

Anson didn’t show any signs of reacting. He simply stared at Trace. “She needs to know the seriousness. Needs to know so she’s careful. And she needs to know because it’s her damned life.”

The last sentence had a bit of a growl to the words, an edge that challenged.

That muscle in Trace’s jaw ticked wildly. “She doesn’t need this shit messing with her head.”

“Trace,” I said quietly. He turned slowly back to me. “It’s my life.” I echoed Anson’s words. “I deserve to know everything you do.”

Trace’s jaw worked back and forth. “There were clippings of the coverage from the first fire.” He took a deep breath. “One had a photo of you with your parents and sister. Your face was circled, and below it⁠—”

His words cut off, and I struggled to swallow. “Below it, what?” I whispered.

A muscle fluttered right in the spot where Trace’s jawbone connected to his cheekbone. “Below it, someone wrote, MAYBE YOU DIDN’T DESERVE TO SURVIVE.”

A series of gasps and curses rose around me, but I could barely take them in. My ears began to ring as my breaths came faster. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I struggled to speak, but I couldn’t get words out—not that I had any idea what to say.

A million what-ifs circled my brain. And most of all, I tried to think of someone who hated me enough to wish me dead. I couldn’t come up with a single person. Obviously, my radar was off because someone clearly did. “Do you have any idea…who…I mean, are there suspects?”

“We’re not sure. Not yet,” Trace said. “But we will find out. I promise.”

Anson took a step toward me. “But until you get one hell of a security system in here, you’re not staying alone.”