Page 22 of Blurred Lines

"You didn't put anything on me," I say warmly. "Listen, can we just focus on the interesting part and think about what this heirloom could be?" I grab the letter from my purse, waving the crinkled paper at her.

Her eyes flicker with interest. "I have a knack for puzzles. Besides, what else have we got to do at this hour?"

"You're really going to humor me with this?" I ask, a flicker of warmth spreading through me.

"Absolutely," she declares, already hopping to her feet. "This is way more fun than whatever's waiting for me back home. Operation Heirloom Hunt commences! First stop …" She ponders for a moment, "That fountain …"

A wave of affection washes over me. Flora, bless her ever-adventurous soul, has a way of turning even the most absurd situations into a grand escapade. "Dear God," I say, trying and failing to suppress a grin, "that hideous old thing in the courtyard?"

"What?" Flora asks defensively. "Maybe Dad hid a message inside a fish or something."

"Do you think …" I start, then hesitate. The question feels heavy, a betrayal of sorts. "Did Verona know about this … heirloom thing?" I blurt out finally.

The air shifts, turning tense. Of course, Flora knows about the mess with Verona and Alec, the thinly veiled threats, the constant questioning of my right to the mansion and farm. The thought of them discovering what Dad has hidden makes my stomach churn.

"Honestly, Em, who knows what those two schemed about," Flora says, her voice sharp. "But this …" She gestures to the letter in my hand, its old-fashioned script mocking me. "This is between you and him. It's none of their business."

"They don't see it that way," I sigh, rubbing my temples. "They think I shouldn't have anything, that I don't deserve it."

Flora scoffs, her hand snatching up a stray grape and crushing it with surprising force. "Screw what they think! It's legally yours now! Let their delusions of grandeur wither on the vine!"

Her fury is infectious. For a fleeting moment, I feel a surge of defiance, a flicker of the fire she possesses in abundance. But the anger fizzles out, leaving a simmering unease. It's more than just the house—it's the feeling that I'm in constant battle, that every choice I make has to be justified.

"Come on," Flora says, her tone shifting from fury to gentle coaxing. "Let's get out of this place for a bit, clear your head." And before I can protest, she's dragging me back through the rows of vines towards the edge of the property.

The cool night air feels like a balm against my skin. Flora maneuvers her beat-up little car through the winding back roads of Emberton like she's on a Formula One racetrack. We end up on a dusty side road, the car parked beneath a sprawling oak tree.

"Where are we going?" I shout over the roar of the engine.

"Stakeout!" she yells back, eyes alight with mischief. With a flourish, she produces a bag of popcorn and a pair of distinctly non-professional binoculars.

It turns out Flora, my detective sister, has a suspect in a string of local burglaries. Hunkering down behind a hedge, munching on popcorn and gossiping, feels refreshingly normal. But my mind isn't cooperating.

Images of the men I keep running into flash through my head: Finn, with his gentle humor and genuine concern; Caeleb, with his lingering glances and the night of my show in New York; Finn and that brush of his lips on my cheek; and then Silas, still a stranger, but just so beautiful.

My thoughts spiral, caught in a whirlwind of possibilities. What Flora said about open relationships echoes in my head. Could it even work? The idea both intrigues and terrifies me. My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me back to reality.

"Looks like our guy is on the move," Flora whispers, pointing toward a shadowy figure across the street.

But my focus is on the screen in my hand. A text from Silas.

Hey there. I hope the timing isn't too odd, but you've been on my mind. How are you?

Simple, straightforward, and welcome. Who knew returning home would bring out this side of me?

Look at you, being your dad's daughter, a voice inside my head rumbles. Always hungry for more…

I grimace and ask it to shut up. I haven't made promises, I haven't broken vows.

Maybe it's reckless, maybe it's completely stupid, but a surge of determination rises in my chest. I deserve a little adventure, a little joy.

Taking a deep breath, I start typing a reply.

8

SILAS

The first sliver of dawn peeks through the blinds, painting streaks of muted gold across my bedroom floor. I roll out of bed, muscles pleasantly sore from yesterday's race. One day, I'll find a woman who can keep up with my pace on the track … and off. A smirk tugs at my lips.

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