Page 40 of Whispers of Sweetwater

The impromptu dinner turned out to be just what they’d all needed. As the sun set in an ovation-worthy show, and the verandah became a cocoon of fairy lights and country music playing from the stereo, their plates were filled with perfectly smoked brisket, buttery garlic bread, charred corn and a salad that Molly had thrown together after insisting she needed to contribute to the feast. And to top it all off, they didn’t talk about the blackmail. Not tonight. Not directly. Instead, they talked about small things – some of the local horses up for rehoming, the funny patients Brianna had met, Molly’s travel escapades, snippets of Hayden’s youth as an adventure-seeking teenage boy gallivanting around the countryside – beneath the surface, a current of deep, mutual trust was building. And as the glimmering stars scattered like confetti across the velvet-black sky and the air cooled with the approach of Brianna’s usual ten o’clock bedtime, Hayden overruled their pleading to help clean up and offered to walk them, and a sleepy Sherlock, to the car.

As Brianna rose, Hayden’s hand brushed her arm – warm, steady, a tether that sent a jolt straight through her. She froze, breath catching, her gaze lifting to find his already on her. There was nothing casual about the way he looked at her now, even if his voice tried to play it off.

‘You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?’ he asked, low and deliberate, the protective glint in his eyes cutting through the easy calm of the evening.

For one dangerous heartbeat, she almost said yes. The word pressed against her tongue, heavy with want, heavy with the ache of safety she only felt when he was this close. She managed a small, steady smile instead. ‘We’ll be okay. I’ll make sure we are all locked up tight, and I’m putting Sherlock’s bed right near the front door tonight, so he’s on guard and ready to bark if need be.’

‘Only if you think you’ll be okay …’ His hand lingered at her arm a fraction longer than it should have. His thumb brushed, almost absentmindedly, against her sleeve, and his jaw worked as though fighting words he shouldn’t say. Then, softer, rawer than she’d ever heard him, he murmured, ‘You know I’d sleep easier if you were here.’

Her chest tightened so sharply it stole her breath. She opened her mouth, but before she could find an answer, before she had to decide whether to deflect or surrender, Molly’s voice broke the silence.

‘He took his guarding duties seriously today,’ she said, reaching down to ruffle Sherlock’s ears. ‘I’m sure we’ll be safe with him protecting us.’

The intense moment fractured, but Brianna caught the flicker of something in Hayden’s eyes when he finally let her go, as if letting her walk away tonight might cost him more than he’d ever admit.

They slowly gathered their things, with Molly carrying leftovers bundled in foil, and Brianna enticing Sherlock to follow her, and Hayden walked them to the Hilux. Each of her steps were deliberate, as if dragging out the inevitable goodbye. At the driver’s door, he caught Brianna’s gaze once more, holding it long enough that her pulse stumbled again, and the unspoken between them swelled like a tide that refused to recede.

‘Drive safe,’ he said quietly, though the weight in his voice carried far more than the words themselves. ‘And let me know when you’re all tucked up inside your cottage.’

The drive home was short, the cab filled with the comfortable silence of Molly’s tired breathing and Sherlock’s soft huffing snores from the back seat. Still, Brianna’s mind replayed the brush of Hayden’s hand, the way his voice had dropped, the words he hadn’t quite said.

When she turned into the driveway, the cottage loomed dark and quiet ahead. Sherlock stirred, sitting up just as the tyres crunched to a stop. He gave one low, warning woof. Just once.

Brianna frowned as she killed the engine and glanced around the yard. Something tugged at the edge of her awareness. The curtains in the front window hung a little differently than she recalled – slanted, as if someone had touched them. And as she stepped out of the Hilux along with Molly and Sherlock, the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke clung to the night air, sharp and out of place.

Her pulse stuttered, and a chill raced down her spine. Molly hadn’t seemed to notice and was heading for the front verandah. For a breath, she stood still, listening, watching, waiting. But there was nothing. No movement. No sound beyond the familiar whisper of the trees. So, with a shaky exhale, she gave her head a small shake. She was tired. Strung out. Seeing patterns where there weren’t any. Imagining things because fear had been living under her skin for days.

Clicking her fingers, she murmured a soft, ‘Come on then, buddy,’ and trailed Molly’s path.

But even as she walked up the steps, towards where Molly stood waiting at the front door, the acrid hint of smoke lingered in her nose, and the uneasy thought pressed deeper into her gut.

Molly’s expression hadn’t changed from a picture of exhaustion, and Brianna wasn’t about to scare her friend, condemning Molly to another night without any decent sleep.

So, breathing in deep to steady her trembling hands, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it quick, and ushered Molly and Sherlock inside. The timber door clicked shut, the deadbolt sliding home with a finality that should have felt secure. She checked it twice anyway, her fingers lingering on the lock before she forced herself to step back.

As promised, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.

Hey, we’re home safe and sound. Thanks for tonight. Brisket was perfect. You didn’t have to take care of us, but you did. Means more than I can say.

She hesitated, thumb hovering, then deleted a couple of sentences and sent the shorter version:

Hey, we’re home safe and sound. Brisket was perfect. Thank you.

The reply came almost instantly, like he’d been waiting.

Any time, Steele. Try to get some rest. I’ve got you covered.

The words eased something in her chest, but not enough. Because as Molly headed off to bed, and the cottage settled around her, dark and quiet and far too still, the unease crept back in. The faint memory of cigarette smoke still clung to her senses and the image of the crooked curtain gnawed at her thoughts.

This crazy ride wasn’t over. Not even close.

If she could just pick up the phone, call her dad and hand it all over to him, maybe she’d finally feel safe. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not without risking Molly. Not without breaking her promise.

So instead, she set her mobile phone face down, rested her hand on Sherlock’s warm head, and whispered into the silence, ‘We’re going to be okay, aren’t we, my boy?’

But even as his steady weight pressed against her, her gut told her the truth she didn’t want to face.

They weren’t just being watched.