“Anna?”
“I found him. He’s here. In the bunkhouse.” The words tumbled out on a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Oh, thank God.” Relief rang in his voice. “Is he okay?”
I hesitated. “Not really. Someone hurt him, Chase. He’s bruised and cut.” My voice caught on a sob. “Who would do that?”
“We’re going to find out, I promise,” he growled. “I’m on my way with Reid. He met me out here.”
“Don’t come in with guns blazing,” I warned. “He’s already scared. He’s hiding in the closet of one of the bunk rooms.”
We disconnected, and I went back to the bunk room. Jordan had crept out of the closet, but only just enough to get closer to Jack.
“Chase is on his way,” I informed him gently. “Sheriff Braxton, too.”
His eyes shot to mine, and panic shone in his eyes. “Am I introuble?”
“No, honey. Not at all. We just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”
His eyes dropped back to the floor, his body trembling more than ever.
“How about we get you something to eat? Or maybe to drink? I’ve got peanut butter cookies I stashed away from the others.”
That got a whisper of a reaction.
I reached out my hand and held it patiently. After a long moment, Jordan slowly unfolded himself and took it. I helped him to his feet, gently holding on as he gained his balance. He leaned heavily on me, more than I expected. It was an indication of how exhausted he must be, and that he might have more injuries than I could see. Jack walked on the other side of him, a second silent guardian.
I eased him into a chair and put a glass of cold milk and several cookies in front of him. I knew it couldn’t fix everything, but I didn’t know what else to do. I sat beside him, staying close but not touching him, hoping to remind him he wasn’t alone in whatever he was dealing with.
The door opened, and Chase and Reid appeared. Both of them froze the moment they saw Jordan hunched in his chair.
Reid hung back in the doorway while Chase moved forward slowly and lowered himself into the chair across from Jordan.
“Hey, kid,” Chase said, his voice warm and calm. “Glad to see you here. We were worried.”
Jordan barely looked at him.
Jack shifted closer, resting his head on the boy’s leg. Jordan immediately latched onto his fur like it was an anchor in a storm.
“Jordan,” Chase said, his voice even softer. “Can I ask what happened?”
Jordan’s jaw flexed.
“Can you tell me who did that to you?”
Still nothing.
Chase looked helplessly at me.
Clearing my throat, I shifted in my chair. I knew what it was like to carry something so burdensome and think no one would understand. To think that silence was safer than the truth. To feel trapped between right and wrong.
“You know,” I began, keeping my voice soft as I picked up a cookie and took a nibble, even though I wasn’t hungry, “before I came here, I didn’t tell anyone what I was going through either.”
Jordan’s gaze flicked to me, uncertain.
“My story isn’t the same. I didn’t have bruises anyone could see. But I still hurt. For a long time, I thought it wasn’t bad enough to talk about. I thought no one would believe me. Or worse, if Ididsay something, it would just make everything harder.”
Jordan turned his head, eyes wide. “Someone hurt you?” His voice held a mixture of surprise and something else—anger, maybe. Or protectiveness.
