Chapter 1
“Nova, are you sure you want to do this? You think you can make it on your own?” Brady asks as I place the final box into the front seat of my car.
“This is exactly why we don’t work. You always act like I’m not capable.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been nothing but supportive. It’s not my fault you can’t change or get better.”
“Goodbye, Brady. I wish you luck, and I’m sorry.” I slam the passenger door shut and slide into the driver’s seat of my brand-new WRX. Pressing the clutch, I start her up, the engine purring in response. A small smile tugs at my lips. Putting the car into gear, I take off, but my anxiety is already creeping in. I left her alone too long.
I race towards my new home on the outskirts of Boise, Idaho. Four years ago, when I first left my small town, I never imagined I’d end up here. Pulling into the paved driveway, I take in the sight of the farm-style, three-story house sitting on five acres. It’s perfect—room for us, a barn, an arena in the back, and a greenhouse I plan to use this spring. Soon, we’ll have horses, maybe even a couple of cows. But for now, this is home.
I park in the garage, making sure to lock my car and lower the door before heading inside. But when I reach for the knob, I realize the door is already unlocked. My heart pounds as I rush inside.
“Sunny?!” I call, my voice echoing through the house.
I move quickly, checking the mudroom, the downstairs bathroom, and my office—all empty. My pulse is hammering now. Taking the smaller staircase, I climb up to the dining area that overlooks the family room, past the island bar and into the formal dining space. Still nothing. The panic rises.
I step down into the second family room, circling back to the front entrance. Taking the main staircase two steps at a time, I check the first bedroom on the left empty. I glance into the master bedroom—also empty. My breath catches as I cross the hall to her room. Nothing. Just as I turn toward the bathroom, the door swings open, and there she is, towel in her hair, headphones in.
Relief floods me.
“Hey, Mom! You’re back already. How’d it go at Brady’s?” she asks, pulling out one earbud. “What’s wrong?”
“The garage door was unlocked, and I panicked. Sunny, you have to remember to keep the doors locked. It’s just us now.”
She knows why I’m like this, why I worry. I see the guilt flicker in her expression, but she tries to reassure me. “Mom, we’re okay. You have me in all those self-defense classes. I know where the shotgun is. Papa’s been teaching me how to shoot every time I visit. And I finished setting up the cameras.”
“Honey, I love you, but I’d rather things never get to the point where you need a gun.” I exhale, forcing my heart rate to slow. “We need to get the cameras hooked up to my phone for alerts. And please, for my sake, keep the doors locked.”
“I will. I’m sorry.”
I pull her into a hug, holding on tightly. “I know you’re growing up, but you’re all I have. As long as you’re under my roof, I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know, Mom.” She pulls back, grinning. “Hey, for my fifteenth birthday this year, can I get my permit?”
I chuckle. “Keep getting A’s, and I’ll make sure of it. Might even help with your first car.”
“Seriously?! You’re the best!” She bounces on her feet. “Oh, by the way, Natalie’s dad is picking me up for school tomorrow. Is that okay? They don’t live far, and I figured we could carpool.”
I nod, but make a mental note to talk to him first. “That’s fine, but I want to make sure it’s him driving and not someone else.”
“Of course.” She turns back to her room, pausing in the doorway. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “You’re always hungry. I was thinking pizza. No way am I cooking after all this moving.”
“You already know how much I love pizza!” she calls before shutting her door.
Smiling, I head downstairs and place the order. I make a mental note to ask Sunny if Natalie wants to join us for dinner. I’d like to talk to her dad before agreeing to carpooling.
Just as I hang up, my work phone rings from the office. Seeing a missed call from one of my biggest clients, I immediately call back.
“Hello, Miss Carter. I hope I’m not intruding on your Sunday, but I wanted to inform you I won’t be at our meeting tomorrow morning. My temporary assistant will be there instead.”
I tense. “Oh?”
“He’s a male, and I know you don’t like changes without notice.”
I appreciate her consideration. “That’s not a problem, Julia. Thank you for the heads-up.”
“Have you found a new therapist? I know this move is big for you, and I hate that my promotion forced you to find someone new.”
“I have, actually. Still in the same building. I planned to tell you tomorrow during the contract review.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Have a good night, dear.”
Hanging up, I force myself to breathe. Change is good, right? It’s just another adjustment.
I do my breathing exercises, grounding myself before shifting gears into work mode. I send out text reminders for the week’s cleaning schedules, giving clients time to reschedule if needed. Most of the week is routine cleanings, but I still need to find more employees for my growing client list. Some clients, though, are special—ones I relate to more than anyone else. They’re here temporarily, always rotating out, but there’s always someone to take their place.
The doorbell rings, breaking my focus. Pizza’s here.
As I grab my wallet, I hear Sunny laughing with Natalie. These two have been inseparable since the day Natalie showed up at our doorstep two years ago, bruised and terrified after escaping her mother’s abuse. That same night, her mother was admitted to the hospital for schizophrenia.
I exhale, pushing down the memories. This move was for us—for our future, for our safety. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.
Later that night, I had one of my nightmares again.
I’m running.
The trees blur around me as I sprint through the forest, my breath ragged, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs. I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see him. That doesn’t mean he’s not there. He’s always there.
My legs burn, but I push forward until I can’t anymore. I slow, lowering myself to the ground, pressing my back against a tree. My fingers dig into the dirt as I try to control my breathing. Too loud. Too fast. I need to listen.
Silence.
But I know better.
He’s close. I can feel it.
I scan the trees, and then I see him. Only fifty yards away.
I shrink down, trying not to move too fast, trying not to make a sound. The bow in his hands is loose at his side, but I know it won’t stay that way.
He doesn’t shoot right away. He likes to play first.
Then—
A sharp, piercing beep shatters the silence.
My stomach drops.
His head snaps toward me.
A slow, twisted grin spreads across his face. “Should’ve learned from last time.”
He lifts the bow. Aims. Fires. I shoot up in bed, gasping, my chest heaving as I fight for air.
The blaring beep of my alarm fills the room. It takes me a second to remember where I am. Safe. In bed. Not there. Not with him.
I drag a shaking hand down my face, willing the nightmare to loosen its grip. Just a dream.
But my body still hasn’t gotten the message.
*** I waited with Sunny to talk to her dad. The cold January air lets me know that winter is still here. I recognized the familiar Chevy Suburban pulling into the driveway, but as soon as it stopped, I realized something was off. It wasn’t Natalie’s father getting out of the vehicle.
I glanced at my daughter, confused. She just shrugged.
“That’s her Uncle Beckett,” she informed me. “He’s been helping her Dad since they found out he has cancer.”
Oh. Well. That would’ve been nice to know beforehand. I swallowed down the irritation, trying to focus on the present, but then I really focused on the present—and dear god.
Beckett was tall. And not just “slightly taller than average.” No, he was tall-tall in a way that made me instinctively straighten my posture. Dark hair, broad shoulders, tattoos covering both arms, and muscles that looked like they were straining against his t-shirt like they had personal vendettas against the fabric. He had that bad boy energy, the kind that made smart women walk the other way—or at least pretend to.
I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Or saying. Or breathing.
“Hi, I’m Beckett,” he said, stepping closer with a confident ease that suggested he was very used to being looked at. His voice was deep, smooth, and just a little rough around the edges. “You must be Sunny’s mother, Nova?”
He extended his hand, and for a mortifying second, all I did was stare at it like I’d never seen a hand before.
Pull it together, woman.
I reached out, but in my rush to recover, I overshot the handshake and ended up grasping more of his wrist than his hand. Fantastic. His skin was warm, his grip firm, and I had the distinct feeling he noticed my little mishap but was too polite—or too amused—to say anything.
“Okay, bye, Mom,” Sunny said, and then—just like that—they were gone.
I swear I stood there for five whole minutes, still holding onto the ghost of that handshake.
What the hell just happened?
Groaning, I buried my face in my hands. That man probably thought I was an absolute idiot. Or some kind of socially inept weirdo. Did I even say anything? I think I said something. Or maybe I just nodded like a malfunctioning robot.
Shaking it off, I checked the time. 7 a.m. My meeting wasn’t until 9, but I liked to be at least fifteen minutes early. The problem? I had no idea what the commute would be from here.
I really should have mapped this out sooner.
By the time I actually got on the road, it was 8 a.m., and I was still forty-five minutes away from the Giving Hands building. I barely pulled in at 8:50, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended me.
I hated when my days started like this. It always threw me off, making it harder to pull myself together. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the doors and greeted the receptionist.
“Good morning, Morgan. It’s good to see you.”
“Oh, Nova! I’ve missed you!” Morgan beamed. “Are you here for a therapy appointment, or meeting with Julia? Or I guess… her assistant?”
“Just a meeting today.” I hesitated. “By the way… anything I should know about this guy? I don’t know why, but I’m kind of nervous.”
Morgan leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Oh, you’ll see. He’s a looker, if you know what I mean.” Oh, come on. Two in one day?
“Thanks, Morgan,” I said dryly. “I’ll make sure I mentally prepare.”
I had barely sat down when I heard my name.
“Nova?”
I looked up—and there he was.
Beckett.
