“I’ll let you get to it,” Stephen said, patting Charlie’s head buried under the terry cloth, and let himself out.
He started up his truck but kept it in park, staring at the night sky. He rubbed a hand over his chest and just sat there, idling in his brother’s driveway. Will they love her like you do? No. That was impossible. He loved Hannah with every ounce of his soul. With everything he was. No one could love her like that.
Was it possible she already knew him? A different him? Maybe, if Tracy’s murder had changed him for the worse, loving Hannah had changed him again. For the better.
He shoved the truck into drive and pulled out, telling himself he didn’t deserve her. Even if he was whole he wouldn’t deserve her. But maybe it wasn’t about deserving. Maybe it was more about being blessed. Loving her sure as hell wasn’t a choice. She’d stolen his heart. She owned him.
Whatever else, he would tell her that.
—
Stephen dialed Agent Walker’s number as he started home. He didn’t expect a warm welcome from the man and he didn’t get one, but at least the guy took his call.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Three things,” Stephen said. “First off, I had nothing to do with setting that fire.”
Nick let out a reluctant sigh. “You don’t know how much it hurts me to say I believe you.”
Well, that was something.
“But your friend did,” Nick said, his voice hard.
“Yes.” And the fact that a man he thought he’d known was in jail facing charges of arson, in addition to everything else, was something he would have to wrestle with.
“What else?”
“Two, I did not have any part in going after that land. I did know Dave was interested, but it was a non-issue—or so I thought, and that’s on me. I’ll make sure Hannah understands.”
“Good luck with that.”
Stephen ignored him and went on. “And three, I love your sister. I’m going to convince her of that too.” He wouldn’t lose her because he was a coward. He wouldn’t lose her, period.
Chapter 48
“That’s a good girl.” Hannah stood in the morning sun and held out a sugar cube, not making Winnie guess which hand. They didn’t have time. Winnie’s new mother would be here at ten. She wasn’t selling her, but still, in all the ways that mattered, she’d be someone else’s horse.
Winnie lowered her head for a scratch. “I’ll miss you. I’ll come see you as much as I can.” Winnie nodded like she understood, but she didn’t know it was hours away.
When Winnie’s ears pricked at a sound, her heart sank before coming back to lodge in her throat. Was it ten o’clock already? But when she looked behind her, it wasn’t a truck and trailer as expected.
Stephen.
Even after everything the rush of emotion was so strong she had to hold onto the wooden rail as he walked toward her.
He stopped beside her at the fence. “Hey.”
The lump in her throat grew. He looked good. Smelled good, standing so close she could almost feel his body brushing hers. “Hey.”
He gave the horse a pat, and they stood in the quiet like they had so many times before. “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
He nodded slowly, a tense smile on his lips that said he didn’t believe her. And that it bothered him she would lie. She waited for him to speak when what she really wanted to do was bury her face in his neck, lean into his chest as his strong arms came around her, the ones that made everything feel right. She wanted to breathe him in, and never let go.
“I didn’t know about the property,” he said suddenly. “I never agreed to any of it and I’ll prove—”
“I know.” She knew it had been Dave, that he’d forged Stephen’s name. But…“Why didn’t you tell me about the land?”
He scanned the fields in front of them before he spoke. “At first I didn’t think it mattered, then I thought I could fix it. And I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
He looked back, his eyes hot on hers. “I was afraid of losing you.”
A chill ran through her, like her body knew how desperate she was to believe him. And she did. Before she could respond, he drew several folded pieces of paper from his back pocket and handed them to her.
“What is it?” But as she unfolded the papers, she saw. It was a much smaller version of his drawing, his plans for Freedom Farm. Her eyes burned. She didn’t want to be reminded of her lost dream just minutes before Winnie was taken away.
“Look at the other paper.”
She moved to the next page and saw her name at the top, the farm’s address below that. Her eyes came back up to his.
“It’s the deed to the land. To Freedom Farm.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s yours. The land. The barn. The cabin.”
Her mind swirled around what he was saying, not wanting to risk misunderstanding.
“I bought it but it’s in your name. I kept back enough to fix it up, to build it the way we talked about with the playground and the camp.”
“What do you mean, kept back?”
“It doesn’t matter.”