“They might start a search party if we don’t,” I agreed.
We walked back to the house in silence, her hand in mine, both of us grinning like idiots.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of chocolate syrup and melted ice cream. Gray and Eryn were on the couch, watching a cartoon with the kids sprawled across their laps, Abby curled up like a cat and Noah half-asleep with a spoon still in his hand. The mood was different now, though—quieter, heavier. Walker’s mouth was tight, and Eryn and Caroline kept glancing at their phones with a look I didn’t like.
Lily noticed it, too. “Everything okay?” she asked, voice light but wary.
Eryn forced a smile. “Of course. Just bedtime for the munchkins.”
Walker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Ford, can I talk to you outside for a sec?”
My gut went cold. “Sure,” I said.
We stepped out onto the porch. The wind had picked up, rattling the windchimes. For a long moment, Walker didn’t say anything. He just stared out at the fields, then pulled out his phone and handed it to me.
The screen was open to the Whittier Falls Gazette, but the headline at the top wasn’t about the weather, or cattle futures, or anything I wanted to see.
VIRAL TRUE CRIME PODCAST UNVEILS NEW EVIDENCE IN DEATH OF TY HIGGINS. HOSTS CLAIM LOCAL TECH BILLIONAIRE FORD BROOKS IS NUMBER ONE SUSPECT.
The words hit me like a punch. I could hear my pulse thumping in my ears.
Walker watched my face, then said, “I thought you should know. It’s everywhere. Not just here—national, maybe even more.”
I kept reading, but the words didn’t make sense. Some podcast had dug up the twenty-year-old rumors about me and Ty, dredged up my dad’s name, and—worse—found some “new” evidence that the old sheriff had missed. The article didn’t say what, just that the podcaster promised “bombshell revelations” in the next episode.
I wanted to throw the phone into the cornfield. I wanted to be sick.
“Who else knows?” I asked, but my voice didn’t sound like mine.
“Everyone,” Walker said. “It’s blowing up on Facebook, Twitter, the works. My mom already called me twice.”
A surge of panic slammed through me. My mother, barely surviving. Lily, who’d just started to trust me. Noah, who would have to live in a town where everyone thought his mom was dating a murderer.
If she didn’t cut this off now. I wouldn’t blame her.
I handed the phone back, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” I said, though I didn’t know who I was apologizing to.
Walker shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, man. But you gotta get ahead of this. Talk to Gray and Eryn, figure out what you want to say. Eryn’s good with public relations stuff. I’m sure you got contacts for lawyers now. You might want to call them. And Lily . . .” He hesitated. “She deserves to know the truth. All of it.”
I nodded, numb.
We went back inside. The house was silent now—cartoons off, kids shuttled to a guest room, Eryn and Lily waiting at the kitchen table. Eryn poured two shots of whiskey and slid one to me. I swallowed it in one gulp, the burn barely registering.
Lily touched my arm, concern written all over her face. “Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled. “I don’t know,” I said finally.
She waited, patient as ever.
I sat down at the table, stared at my hands. For a second, I caught a glimpse of her hair tangled in my fingers, the flush in her cheeks when we kissed. I’d have given anything to go back to that for just one more minute.
I wanted to hold onto that memory, because I knew it wouldn’t last.
Sixteen
Lily
Campfire Bakery was already at maximum decibel when I walked in. I could smell cinnamon rolls from a block away, the whole place radiating warmth and noise even before sunrise. Sutton was behind the counter, pouring a coffee with one hand while slapping a pan of sticky buns on the cooling rack with the other, moving like she’d been born in an apron.
