Page 62 of Whispers of Sweetwater

Brianna gave him a look that stemmed from the depths of her heart, caught between gratitude and something else neither of them had named. ‘Feels weird,’ she said, folding the corner of the doona. ‘Having someone here in the quiet. I’m used to just the fridge humming and Sherlock snoring.’

Hayden gave a faint smile. ‘I can snore if it makes you feel more at home.’

She laughed under her breath, glancing up at him. ‘You strike me more as the brooding silent type.’

‘Only when I’ve got something on my mind.’

A beat passed. Her eyes didn’t leave his. ‘Got something on your mind now?’

‘Maybe,’ he said, voice low.

Her smile softened. ‘Then maybe I’ll let you keep your secrets, for now.’

He tipped his head slightly. ‘You’re good at that.’

She couldn’t help the playful smirk. ‘Not as good as you think.’

Their eyes held for another second longer before she stepped back. ‘Goodnight, Hayden.’

‘Night, Bri.’

She turned and padded down the hall to her room, closing the door gently behind her. In the quiet, she leant back against it for a second, exhaling slowly, her heart fluttering. Then, needing sleep, she climbed into bed, the sheets cool against her skin, and stared at the ceiling. Her mind should’ve been on Jack, on the letter, on the mystery still choking their little town. But instead, all she could think about was Hayden lying a few metres away. And how warm his arms might feel around her. How safe he’d make her feel by being so close.

Brianna Steele, stop this now …

Huffing, she rolled onto her side and stared at the curtain where moonlight edged through the fabric, casting faint silver lines across the floor. What she felt for Hayden wasn’t just attraction, though heaven knew that was there. She was drawn to the way he listened. The way he never pushed, never needed her to be anything other than exactly who she was. The way he made the silence feel shared, not empty.

But none of that could matter.

Not until she knew what he was hiding. Because her gut said he was. Maybe nothing bad. Maybe just … something.

And yet.

If he opened up, would it change things? Or ruin them before they’d even had a chance to begin?

* * *

Hayden’s phone buzzed beside the pillow. He squinted at the screen, groaning slightly as he read the time: 6.04 a.m. He thumbed open his messages and shot off a quick text to Gavin.

Running a few errands this morning. Hold the fort at Sweetwater Acres. Back later.

With that done, he sat up, stretching against the couch’s unforgiving frame. His back cracked in protest, but the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee coaxed him to his feet. As he padded towards the kitchen, he caught sight of Brianna. She stood barefoot at the counter, sipping from a mug that matched the colour of her eyes, her hair a messy halo of waves. She hadn’t noticed him yet, her brow furrowed in thought over something Molly was saying, but her expression softened when she laughed.

Damn, she was beautiful in the mornings. Sleepy and vulnerable and real. And something about that tugged at a place deep inside him. She wasn’t trying to be anything other than herself. Just Brianna. Clever. Kind. A little guarded, but honest in ways that mattered. He found himself wondering what it would be like to wake up to her laughter every morning, to that wry little smile she wore when something amused her more than she let on. But he reined in the thought before it went too far. They were in the middle of something complicated, dangerous. And she deserved better than half-truths and the shadow of a dare he still hadn’t confessed to. Whatever this pull between them was, it couldn’t go anywhere unless he dealt with that first.

Even so, he watched her a moment longer, just because he could, while Molly stood at the stove, flipping bacon, completely oblivious to his presence.

‘Morning,’ he finally said, voice gravelly.

‘Oh, hey, you’re just in time,’ Molly said, placing a few pieces of sizzling bacon onto each plate and sliding one towards him.

They ate together around the small table, quiet but warm. The fatigue still clung to them, but the food grounded them. When the last bite was taken and dishes rinsed, they regrouped with fresh determination.

Hayden moved through the house again, this time slower, more methodical. Every step, every beam, every angle felt like a clue waiting to be noticed. He crouched in the spare room once more, running his hand along the edge of the revarnished desk. Something had to be here. It was just a question of where. Behind him, Molly stepped into the room. Her eyes swept the office slowly, as if seeing it differently in the light of morning.

‘You remember when I stripped and redid that desk?’ she asked quietly.

Hayden turned. ‘Yeah. You said it was the one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to toss out.’