Page 111 of Three Months Yesterday

“And I got a front row seat,” he continues. “Backstage to see my best friend pour his heart out to a room full of strangers.”

I squint. “It wasn’t⁠—”

“Beckett.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he sits up, elbows braced on his knees. “I’m happy for you. Seriously.”

The familiar warmth spreads through my chest, the one that hits me every time I think about Madison. Just two more weeks and I’ll be back with her.

“Thanks,” I manage.

“I can’t wait to finally meet her.” Ryan smirks. “This woman who got Beckett Stone to settle down.”

“Well, you should clear your calendar for the end of April and come visit us,” I say, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably. “Baby’s due then. You can kill two birds with one stone.”

Ryan’s response is immediate, earnest. “I’ll be there.”

In the silence, I take the opportunity to study Ryan. Something’s off, has been since December. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he’s tapping his thumb against his knee in a rhythm that suggests restlessness rather than excitement. This isn’t my best friend at his best. This is Ryan running at seventy percent and trying to convince everyone he’s fine.

“You okay?”

“What?” His brows pinch. “I’m fine. Why?”

I don’t buy it. I’ve known this man practically my entire life and I know what he looks like when he’s happy, truly happy. His whole body seems to vibrate with it, but right now it’s like he’s folded in on himself—contained, careful.

We’ve talked. I’ve heard the change in his voice, but seeing him…it’s hard to ignore.

“Harborview,” I say. It’s not a question, but it’s enough.

“What about it?” Ryan reaches for his coffee, refusing to meet my eyes.

“You’ve been different since you went back.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Is everyone okay? Melissa? Your parents?”

“They’re fine.” He lifts his gaze to mine, meeting me without question. “It’s not important, not right now.”

I open my mouth to push harder—to remind him I’m here for him no matter what—when my phone buzzes on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with Ian’s name.

That’s not unusual—we talk regularly, checking in about everything going on there—but it’s two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Ian and Madison should be at the inn.

“Sorry,” I say, already reaching for my phone. “It’s Ian.”

The corner of Ryan’s eyes tilt and he gestures for me to take it. “Go ahead.”

I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Ian, what’s up?”

“Beckett.” His voice is flat, stripped of its usual easy warmth and my hairs stand on end. “Someone was in the house when Madison got home.”

The apartment goes silent. Or maybe it’s me, my ears ringing, my vision narrowing to a pinprick.

“Aiden’s already en route. We’re gonna get her out, but I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t tell you.”

“Ian—”

“I have to go—” He pauses, the line fills with static and something sounds in the background, but I can’t tell what. “We’re going to get her out safe.” And then the line goes dead.

I stare at the phone in my hand and the screen goes dark, reflecting back a face I don’t recognize—pale, frozen, eyes wide with a terror so complete it feels like drowning.

Madison.

Shepherd.