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“I’m not sure what qualifies as luck anymore,” I reply.
The intensity of his gaze makes my body light up from the inside. How am I even able to register these reactions when I’ve been in fight-or-flight mode for so long? Kellan comes closer, his green eyes searching my face, while I can’t help but admire the soft line of his lower lip.
“I have an extra blanket in the trunk,” he says. “That is, if you want to stay out here. The passenger seat is heated. Up to you, Avery.”
“A blanket would be great,” I tell him. “If I get in the warm car now, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass out.”
He nods, smiles subtly, then goes back to his car. I watch him tread carefully across the snow, each step echoing determination and strength. Kellan returns with a third blanket which he gingerly drapes over my shoulders pulling me closer as he brings the corners together for me to hold.
“Thank you.”
He makes sure I’m sufficiently bundled, then takes his phone out again. “Give me your ex-husband’s name and description. I can put a BOLO out on him and make sure he’s apprehended sooner rather than later.”
“Daniel Madison,” I say, wondering if a BOLO would be enough to stop that bastard from coming after us again. “Once I get my phone charged, I can send you more details,” I add. “Like social security number, pictures, that kind of stuff.”
“License plate number, last known address, any official court documents will all be helpful,” Kellan says. “We’ll sort the rest out tomorrow at the station. But the name and a description should do for the time being.”
“Six feet tall. Medium brown hair. Brown eyes. Medium build. Works for a finance firm. Or did. I don’t know anymore. I don’t keep up.”
“I suppose the divorce was messy,” he says.
I nod once. “It was, but I didn’t have enough evidence to keep him away from the girls. So, the court granted him visitation rights once every two weeks. Until he hit me. That’s when I got the restraining order.”
“When was the divorce finalized?”
“Five months ago.”
“And when did you get the restraining order?”
I need a moment to remember the exact date. “December first. Last week. We moved to Campbell as soon as I got it.”
“Does he still have visitation rights for the girls?”
“No. Temporarily suspended, pending a court hearing. I’ll need to file some papers for that. Damn, I need a lawyer. I need a lot of things.” And I’m about to hyperventilate as the prospect of going through the court system again fills me with anxiety. “I thought I’d put him behind us.”
Kellan looks at me with kindness, not pity. “Listen, forget about him for now. At least for tonight. Give yourself some peace. You and your daughters have been through enough.”
I look again at my surroundings. We’re still in the middle of nowhere during a terrible snowstorm, yet there is a sense of safety wrapping itself around me, and I can feel my whole body gradually relaxing. Granted, this blanket is definitely helping, but so is Kellan’s overwhelmingly masculine presence. I wonder if the universe saw me in desperation and decided to give me a break this time.
“How old are the girls?” he asks as we wait for his brother to reach us.
“Miley is five. Annie is three. Although Miley is way more mature for a kid her age. Or mellower. Whatever it is, I’m thankful, because I doubt I would’ve been able to handle two wound up girls in these circumstances.”
“And what do you do? For a living, I mean.”
“I’m an interior designer, though I didn’t start my career until after I got divorced,” I say with a heavy exhale. “I’ve been taking on clients here and there, mostly remodeling projects. I handle everything from top to bottom—carpentry, plastering, painting. I do it all.”
Kellan gives me a long and curious look, a glimmer of fascination in his eyes. “You do the hard labor too?”
“I can’t afford to pay additional contractors. But I’m really good at it. I used to help my dad out a lot on his remodeling jobs when I was a kid so I’m familiar with the work.
“What about you?” I ask Kellan. “Did you always plan on becoming the sheriff of Lincoln County?”
“Not really. My parents figured I’d take over the family business, but I decided to join the Navy instead.”
“Oh. Quite the twist,” I chuckle softly.
He smiles, but there is a tinge of sadness shadowing his expression. “Yeah. It was an intense and eye-opening experience, to say the least. But then I got my honorable discharge and came back here. I joined the Police Academy and saw how poorly the whole county was doing in terms of law and order. I wanted to do something; it was almost like a calling.” He pauses upon seeing a pickup truck approaching us from the north end of the snowy road. “There he is.”
