Page 106 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"I'm sorry," I murmur.
Her eyes find mine, questioning.
"For almost losing it back there. This isn't just about me."
She squeezes my fingers, and Christ, I love her so much it physically hurts. Like my heart's grown too big for the cage I built around it.
"We'll figure this out," she says softly as we turn onto the final stretch of road leading to the cabin. "Whatever Riley's planning, whatever he wants, we'll handle it. Together."
Together. There's that word again.
For most of my life, 'together' meant watching someone else's back while they failed to watch yours. It meant depending on people who let you down when it mattered most. It meant—
"Beau?" Molly's voice is sharp with concern. "What's wrong?"
I slam on the brakes so hard the truck fishtails in the snow, coming to a stop twenty feet from where we usually park outside my cabin.
Because Molly's car is gone.
The parking spot beside my workshop, where her perfectly restored blue sedan has sat last night like a symbol of everything good I've ever accomplished, is empty. Nothing but undisturbed snow and tire tracks leading back toward the main road.
"Where's my car?" Molly's voice is small, confused.
The rage that I'd managed to contain during the drive up explodes back to life with the force of a mortar round. This isn't just theft. This is violation. This is Riley taking something precious that doesn't belong to him, something I created for the woman I love.
Just like he's always done.
"That fucking bastard." The words come out low and dangerous. "That manipulative piece of shit."
I'm out of the truck before Molly can respond, boots hitting the snow as I stalk toward the empty space where her car should be. The tracks are fresh, maybe an hour old, leading down the mountain toward town.
"Beau, it's okay," Molly says, following me. "It's just a car. We can call the sheriff, file a report—"
"It's not just a car!"
The words explode out of me with enough force to make her flinch again.Dammit. I'm tired of seeing her do that, but fuck me.
"It's a message, Molly. Don't you see? He's telling us that he can take whatever he wants, whenever he wants."
My chest is getting tight, a sudden panic that feels dangerously familiar creeping in at the edges of my vision.
Because this is the pattern. This is what Riley has always done.
"I should have told you," I say, my voice getting more raspy as the oxygen feels lighter. "I opened that package, Molly. The one delivered to Johnson's Auto. I opened it after you went to sleep."
"Y-you did?" Her face goes pale. "What was in it?"
"Claims that you violated some bullshit engagement contract by leaving without 'proper notification.'" The words taste like poison in my mouth. "He's not just here to get you back, baby. He wants everything. Your money, your independence, your fuckinglife. And if he can't have that, he'll destroy it all so no one else can either."
The snow is coming down harder now, fat flakes that blur my vision and make Molly's face seem distant, dreamlike. Molly's voice reaches me as if from the far end of a tunnel, and fuck… I know where this is going.
I've been here before. One too many times.
"Beau, you're scaring me. Please, just breathe—"
But I can't breathe.
"Just like Maisie," I continue, my breathing getting shallow. "He used a six-year-old child to send a message that nowhere is safe. No one is off limits. He can manipulate anyone, take anything, hurt anyone to get what he wants."
