Page 61 of Open Arms

I nodded. “And he called me Katie. I changed my name years ago. I’ve moved half a dozen times. No one knows that name anymore. No one.”

“But he’s in prison, right?”

“Yes. I double checked after the call. But the ID showed an area code from Illinois, not Florida, where he is. He can’t spoof a number from prison. And then, there was a letter.”

“A letter?”

“It was postmarked in Chicago. It just said two words. ‘Found you.’”

“Goddamit.” Mason looked like he was trying to contain his anger, but it seeped through him.

It didn’t scare me. It felt good knowing I had someone on my side. Someone who cared.

“What if it’s one of those copycat assholes? Someone obsessed with the case, tryin’ to mess with you?”

I thought about that. “I guess it’s a possibility. But it sounded just like him.”

“Well he can’t hurt you from prison. What about your brother?”

“Why would he try to find me now? He’d made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with me.” The pain of that fact pricked me like usual, but I was able to push it away faster this time.

Mason’s hand found mine, his grip firm and reassuring. “Chloe, look at me.” His gray eyes locked onto mine, steady and unflinching. “Whoever it is, whatever they’re trying to do, you’re not facin’ this alone. Not anymore.”

“Can we really stop someone who doesn’t want to be stopped?” I asked, the trembling in my voice betraying the terror that stalked my every step.

“We can sure as hell try.” His jaw set in a way that told me he meant every word. “I’ve got your back, Chloe. This town, it’s got good folks who’ll stand up for their own. And you—you’re one of us now.”

“Even with all my baggage?” The question slipped out, wrapped in half-hearted humor, but laced with genuine doubt.

“Especially with it.” There was no hesitation in Mason’s voice, just a quiet certainty that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “You’ve been through hell and back, Chlo. But thosescars? They’re just part of your story. And I reckon it’s about time we start writing a new chapter. Together.”

“Thank you, Mason,” I whispered, finding solace in the promise shining in his eyes. A promise of protection, of shared burdens, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of forever blooming between us.

25

Mason

I couldn’t shakethe weight of Chloe’s story, the shadows that danced behind her eyes when she spoke of her past. But I knew in that moment as we sat by the pond, it was warmth she needed—heat to drive away the cold grip of old ghosts.

“Hey, Chlo,” I ventured, my voice a soft drawl, “how ‘bout I leave work early and we pick up Abby and then do something fun? Just the three of us?”

A hesitant smile tugged at her lips, and something fierce and protective swelled in my chest. “That sounds nice, Mason,” she murmured, and I felt like I’d won a small victory.

The rumble of my truck filled the silence between us as we drove to Abby’s school. I glanced at Chloe, saw her staring out the window, lost in thoughts I wished I could dispel with a word or a touch.

“Abby’s gonna flip when she sees us together,” I said, trying to inject a bit of lightness back into the air.

“You think?” Her voice lifted in a way that made me think of wind chimes, delicate and sweet.

“Like a pancake on Sunday morning,” I joked, and this time her laugh was genuine, brightening the cab of the truck.

When we pulled up to the school, kids were spilling out into the afternoon sun, a chaotic burst of energy and noise. I spotted Abby immediately—couldn’t miss those wild curls bouncing as she skipped toward us.

“Daddy!” Her squeal punched right through the open window, and it was all I could do not to hop out before the truck was even parked.

“Hey, jellybean!” I called back, grinning wide as I hopped out and caught her up in my arms. She wrapped around me like ivy, all limbs and laughter and love.

“Chloe’s here too!” I told her, nodding toward the passenger seat where Chloe had already stepped out.

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