Page 157 of Stolen for Keeps
I carried on, “You still have a chance to be there when it really matters. Because I’m going to propose to her properly and give her the kind of wedding she deserves. And when that day comes, we’re doing it right. Ceremony, vows, everything. So ask yourself, do you really want to miss that too?”
For the first time since I’d arrived, she looked at me, her gaze assessing as if she was trying to figure out if I was serious.
Then, just as quickly, she turned back to the planter, her fingers stirring the soil like it needed more tending.
“The love of my life died because of her,” she said, brushing dirt from her hands. “William died right in front of me, in front of our house where we were supposed to be safe.”
Her voice was raw, but not with fresh grief. This pain had hardened into something that no longer bled, just blocked.
Something that had kept her from loving her daughter for far too long.
When she stood up, I stepped forward, closing some of thedistance between us. “Maybe it’s timeshebecame the love of your life.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression clouded. Then, without a word, she turned and walked inside, shutting the door behind her.
49
NOAH
At The Sundown, the morning sun was well past its peak when I finally dragged myself out of bed. I’d slept through half the day, which was something I never did, but exhaustion had sunk its claws into me. Besides, it was winter.
An irritated groan flew out of my mouth as I headed to the bathroom.
I had plans today. Important ones.
I splashed water on my face, grabbed a half-wilted biscuit from the kitchen, and stepped outside, expecting to find Maya somewhere nearby.
Except she wasn’t.
Maya never just disappeared. She always said where she was going, especially after everything we’d been through.
“Maya!” I called out.
No answer.
My stomach clenched. Had she found out I’d visited her mother, and wasn’t okay with it?
I tugged my jacket tighter as I stepped outside.
The fence between The Sundown and The Lazy Moose wasn’t wired anymore. It was finished now with clean wood, aproper gate between neighbors. I still crossed it every day as I always had.
I hoped she was out there somewhere. Maybe chatting with Claire, maybe playing with Dylan. Though I started working through the words I would say if I were right, that she knew about Seattle.
At the barn, Hank was on his way out.
“You seen Maya?”
“Nope,” he said, brushing the dust of snow off his jeans. “She was around earlier, but I haven’t seen her since.”
I turned, already moving before I had a direction.
Then, Claire’s voice rang out, “She’s in Elia’s workshop.”
I ran.
There, the heater was going full blast, and Maya was hunched over my folding knife. The one I’d kept for years, rusted and useless, but never quite able to throw away.
She was polishing it. Bringing it back to life.
