53. Ridley

53

RIDLEY

My head felt like it was full of cotton. No, not just my head, my mouth too. And maybe my ears. I groaned, trying to roll over, but couldn’t.

“Easy, Chaos. I’m right here. Always, remember?”

That voice.

God, I wanted to see the owner of that voice. Some part of my brain recognized it as belonging to the man I loved before I could put a name to it. Because he was so much more than a name. He was the one who made me feel safe, seen, understood.

My eyes flew open, the bright sun making me wince and blink.

“Take it nice and easy,” he murmured, his hands brushing my hair away from my face.

“Colt,” I croaked.

He might be more than a name, but I loved that name too.

“Take it slow. No big movements. You’ve got some stitches.”

I took in more of my surroundings now. Windows with industrial-looking blinds. A faint beeping emanating from a heart monitor. An IV. Hospital. I was in the hospital.

“You’ve been in and out for the past two days,” Colt explained.

And it was then that I saw the weight of that. The dark circles under his eyes. The scruff that had gotten thicker again.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “They had to remove your spleen. There was a rupture. But you’re going to be fine. Just need a few days to recover.”

My brows pulled together, and the action made something on my forehead hurt, like I’d hit my head somehow. That tiny flicker of discomfort sent me hurtling back. The RV. The man I thought I knew. Running through the woods. My sister.

“Sully,” I rasped, a whole different kind of pain sweeping through me.

A mixture of emotions played across Colt’s face. “He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt another soul.”

My chest seized. “Did you—have they—” I wasn’t sure how to phrase what I needed to, but Colt could read me without words.

“The FBI has been going over his RV and a storage unit in Alabama for the past thirty or so hours. He kept journals. Maps. Trophies. It turns out his mother was a high-achieving athlete, blond, beautiful. She walked out on him and his father when he was quite young. And it sounds like his dad filled his head with a lot of opinions on women like that—they were both special and the devil incarnate. But there’s a history of behavioral issues reaching back to when Shawn was in middle school, ones that should’ve been a red flag.”

Nausea swept through me. “Keep going,” I whispered. I needed it all. The Band-Aid ripped off.

“Local law enforcement is searching for twenty-six bodies, the twenty-six he killed out of the thirty-four he victimized.” Colt’s voice was even, calm, but I knew that wasn’t close to how he was feeling.

“He said there were others, but he didn’t keep track.” The memories kept coming back in flashes, grotesque and terrifying snapshots.

Colt’s hands slipped from my face as he straightened. “That’s not entirely true. He took driver’s licenses from all his kills. They’re putting the pieces together. Those families will get their closure.”

My eyes burned but I fought back the tears. “Avery?”

Colt moved back to my side, dropping into the chair at my bedside and taking my hand. “Arizona State Police found remains with a necklace that matched the description you gave.”

A single tear slid down my cheek. “The silver disc with the lacrosse sticks. The one I gave her for high school graduation.”

Colt nodded, lifting my fingers to his lips so that they ghosted along my skin as he spoke. “They’re running tests as quickly as possible, but?—”

“It’s her.” I knew it in my bones, my soul, some part of me shifting. “We’ll get to put her to rest.”

“You’ll get to put her to rest,” Colt echoed.

“Emerson,” I rasped. “Is she okay?”

Those shadows were back in Colt’s eyes. “She’s worried about you. I think she’ll be better now that I can tell her you’re awake. She wanted to come, but?—”

“No. That’s too much, too quick.”

The tension in Colt’s shoulders eased a fraction. “It’ll help. Knowing you said that.”

Another memory flickered in my mind. The water. Strong arms pulling me toward the surface. The command to breathe .

My eyes flared. “You pulled me out…”

Those shadows danced in his dark depths, but there was heat in them too. “What choice did I have? You jumped off a fucking cliff.”

My eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have to jump after me.”

Colt’s hand tightened around mine. “Always going to jump after you.”

The tears came a little faster now. “Love you, Law Man.”

“Why do you always have to be the one to say it first?” he asked, exasperation lacing his tone.

My eyes danced. “Because you’re too slow on the draw.”

“I am not slow on the draw?—”

“They’re bickering,” an older feminine voice called from the hallway. “Bickering is always a good sign. That was always a precursor to a good time.”

“No one needs to hear about our sex life,” Norm muttered.

Celia stepped through the doorway, a picnic basket in hand but scowling at Norm. “Oh, shove it, you stodgy old bear.”

“Both of you shove it. I gotta see my girl,” Sam called, pushing past them and toward my bedside.

“ Your girl?” Colt asked, glaring at the man old enough to be my grandfather.

“Damn straight, son. Now how are you feeling, Ridley? Do you need me to get the doctor?”

“I brought lunch and dinner,” Celia said, pushing in behind him. “You’ll never get healed up eating this hospital food.”

“Careful,” Norm warned. “Her cooking could kill you.”

“Oh, shut up. You certainly ate it all last night,” Celia shot back. “And it’s from Ezra. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

“Celia might’ve brought the food, but I brought your favorite booze,” a deep voice called from the doorway. Ace stood there, motorcycle vest on, holding up a bottle of Ransom whiskey and Dean following behind him, a grin on his boyish face.

“You’re going to get us all kicked out,” Celia bit out.

They started to argue about whether or not whiskey was a banishable offense, and I couldn’t help turning to Colt, so much warmth spreading through me.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to our joined fingers. And I knew, after years of searching, I’d found my home.