“Well, someone wants you to think it’s not over. Someone just called this house. They knew I’d be here. They wanted me to hear it.”
She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.
The silence stretched between them, too full, too heavy. He pushed back from the table, the scrape of the chair quiet, final. By her pale face, he figured she was waiting for him to walk away.
But he didn’t. He stepped in front of her, stopping just inches away. Her shoulders were still rigid, braced. Always braced. He reached out, brushing his fingers against her jaw. Her skin was cool beneath his touch. “Charlotte,” he said, softer now. “Talk to me.”
She closed her eyes. Her throat moved like she was swallowing something hard. “I don’t know what to say.”
He bent his head, resting his forehead against hers. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t push him out. That was something. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, holding her gently. She breathed in shakily and let herself lean into him.
He stayed still. Let her find her breath. “I’m calling Waverly Junction PD and Brad.”
Her body stiffened. “Alex.”
“No.” He stepped back enough to meet her eyes. “Someone broke into your house. They stood over you while you slept. Youwoke up to this—a photo from a thirty-year-old case. I want forensics in here.”
“I checked everything,” she said.
“And I want someone else to check too.” His thumb brushed her cheek again. “Let Waverly Junction and Brad’s team go through it. Please.”
She rested a hand against his chest, tension still coiled in her shoulders. “Alex.”
“And tell the girls.”
That stopped her cold. “No.”
“Charlotte.”
“No.” Her voice cut sharper this time. “I’m not bringing them into this.”
Alex’s jaw flexed. “They are already in. You have five daughters. If this is personal…”
“They’re grown,” she snapped. “They have their own lives.”
He didn’t back down. “That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to know if their mother’s in danger. Besides, cops gossip. Olivia and Molly will find out. Do you want them to find out from a secondary source?”
She turned away, planted her hands on the table like she needed it to keep standing. He watched her, felt her shutting down again. Closing the door like she always did. So he came up behind her and lifted her from her seat, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in. She didn’t resist.
He pressed his lips to her shoulder, her neck. Felt her breathing shift. “Let me help keep you safe,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, “Call the PD. Call Brad,” she said. “Let them go through the house.”
He exhaled slowly, relief washing through his chest. He turned her gently in his arms, resting his hands at her hips.
“Thank you.” He paused. “And the girls?”
Her voice came quieter. “I’ll think about it.”
He nodded. Didn’t push. Just reached up and cupped the back of her neck again. He pulled her in close and kissed her—steady, certain. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Five
Alex watchedthe forensic team move methodically through Charlotte’s Victorian home. The quiet buzz of activity was a stark contrast to the stillness that had filled the house just hours earlier. The scent of coffee lingered faintly under the lavender and vanilla, but none of it could mask the tension curling in his chest.
Brad Killian, highway patrol commander and Charlotte’s future son-in-law, stood near the front door flipping through his notepad. “You said nothing was taken?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Charlotte said from the living room, arms crossed, her voice steady but clipped.
