Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Tex Thrasher felt the familiar knot form in his stomach as he stared at the dark-green Victorian house in front of him.

Normally when people came home, they felt a rush of warmth. At least that was his impression. However, he’d never truly experienced what home felt like.

Not the home from the feel-good TV shows he’d seen while growing up. He’d always felt a jab of envy as he watched the smiling families interact, enjoying the time they spent together.

To him, home was an illusion.

He never thought he’d be back at this place outside Roanoke, Virginia. But his foster father, the one Tex had lived with from the ages of fifteen to eighteen, had texted him and asked him to come. Said he wanted to spend this Christmas with Tex.

Which was weird considering the fact that he hadn’t heard from Gilbert Stevenson in twelve years. Why did he want to see Tex now?

There was only one reason he could think of.

Something must be wrong.

Was Gilbert dying? Was he trying to make amends before he left this earth?

Tex had no idea. Were any of his other foster brothers invited? If not, why just Tex? He and Gilbert had never been particularly close.

Tex almost hadn’t come. He had a million reasons not to, starting with the fact he’d never particularly liked Gilbert.

The man had been more interested in the money foster care brought in than he had been in forming true relationships with any of the kids. There was no warmth or nurturing. Only what was required of him.

Gilbert wasn’t married, so he had been the only one managing the house. And he’d run the place like a drill sergeant. Even though Gilbert had never been in the military, his father had. Gilbert had always talked about how he was raised right and how he wanted to do the same for the boys in his house. Talked about how those rules had made him into a better man.

Everyone had to be up and out of bed at the crack of dawn. Beds had to be made. Chores had to be done. Every bite on the dinner plate had to be eaten. Curfew had to be strictly followed.

Many of the boys who’d come here to stay couldn’t handle it. Some had run away. Others had rebelled and acted out.

Gilbert had even sent some back to social services.

Tex, however, had followed the rules. He figured that by staying here, he’d at least had a warm place to sleep and food in his belly.

And he’d been able to stay close to Chelsea Lennox, the girl next door and the only woman to ever capture his heart.

In high school, staying near her had been the most important thing.

The only thing.

His throat burned, and he pushed those thoughts aside.

Instead, he shifted as he stood on the dark sidewalk. The chilly wind blew over him, sending leaves scraping down the driveway, almost as if they wanted to get away from this house.

Were they warning him?

Tex shook off the errant thoughts. He had to stop staring at the house and get a move on.

He hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and climbed the front steps.

Tex had halfway expected to see the old Victorian rundown and in disrepair. Gilbert always had his foster kids do all the work.

But the place was remarkably well-kept. The siding and flowerbeds looked clean, and the boards beneath his feet felt sturdy. White Christmas lights were strung along the eaves of the house and wrapped around the posts of the porch. Wreaths with red bows hung on each window, and a set of three lit Christmas trees stood cheerfully in the front yard.

As Tex reached the front door, he realized it was cracked open.

His eyes narrowed. Gilbert would never leave his door unlocked, much less open. He was too paranoid for that.

What if the man was in trouble? Was that why he’d called Tex here? So Tex could protect him?

Now that was a theory that made sense.

Tex’s gun was tucked into a holster at his waistband. He’d developed the habit first in the military and then through working with the Shadow Agency. When a person worked the missions he’d worked, they were always on guard, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Without saying anything, Tex quietly nudged the door open.

It didn’t even creak as it swung on its hinges.

From the threshold, he scanned the place, which was dark other than some ambient lighting.

The dining room lay to his right and the formal living room—complete with a lit Christmas tree—to his left. A wooden staircase stretched in front of him, leading up to the bedrooms on the second floor. A garland was strung on the banister, and the place looked clean and tidy.

Nothing had changed since he’d been here last, other than the seasonal decorations.

So far, he saw no one.

He took a quiet step forward. He was good at being a ghost. It was what he’d been trained to do.

He walked across the wood floor of the dark hallway, being sure to avoid the one loose board that always creaked. It was two slats from the stairway, right in front of the HVAC vent.

Tex reached the next doorway. The kitchen. The light over the sink cast a soft glow in the room.

It looked just as he remembered with its olive-green cabinets, white countertops, and dark wood finishes.

He thought he should feel something. A rush of nostalgia.

But he felt nothing, not even a hint of warmth or fondness.

He turned, heading to the other side of the hallway, where the living room was located.

The living room with the wooden beams across the ceiling and a red brick fireplace on the opposite wall. Gilbert had set up a tree in the corner, decorated with white lights and generic red and green ornaments. Nothing personal.

But Gilbert was nowhere to be seen.

Tex wasn’t ready to let down his guard yet.

He headed through the living room to a room just off the side. An old sunroom there had been converted into an office. When Tex was in high school, Gilbert had sports memorabilia all over the walls—autographed posters, flags, a framed jersey.

In Tex’s opinion, the room had always seemed a weird place to have an office. But he supposed Gilbert was just trying to make the most of the space here in the historic home located in a small town.

Tex paused at the office doorway.

Someone was inside, he realized.

And it wasn’t Gilbert.

This person wore all black, all the way up to his stocking hat. The intruder’s figure was smaller than Gilbert’s robust one.

The man stood with his back toward Tex, thumbing through the desk drawers.

Tex bristled and drew himself up to full height. “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?”

Then he waited for a response.

Chelsea Lennox froze at the deep voice.

No one was supposed to be here.

And that didn’t sound like Gilbert.

Yet the voice did sound familiar.

How was she going to get out of this situation? She would have never come in here if she thought she might be caught.

Too much was at stake.

She glanced at the window in front of her. She could try to open it and make a run for it. But that seemed like a terrible plan.

Or there was a letter opener on the desk. Could she use that for a weapon?

No . . . hurting someone would only make this situation a thousand times worse, especially since she didn’t have permission to be here.

What if Gilbert had invited the person behind her to come? What if the cops were called?

Instead of running, she froze, lifted her hands in the air, and slowly turned around.

Her eyes widened at the person standing there like a ghost from Christmas past.

“Tex?” The word sounded like a croak as it left her lips.

Her friend’s face went slack with surprise. “Chelsea?”

“You’re . . . you’re here.” She hadn’t seen him or spoken with him in so long. “In Holly Ridge.”

The last time she’d seen Tex was the day he’d graduated.

He’d left without so much as a goodbye.

That day seemed to prove their friendship hadn’t been real—for him, at least.

Chelsea had been devastated. For the first few years, she’d secretly hoped that he would come back. That he’d explain why he left and have a good excuse for it. Maybe he’d been forced to go. Maybe he had amnesia. Maybe . . .

But there were no good excuses.

Later, she’d heard he joined the military. That was respectable. But why would he leave without telling her?

Despite her hopes, Tex had never come back. He’d never called.

He hadn’t even sent a birthday card.

Which meant their friendship had meant nothing to him.

The realization still caused a pit to form in her stomach.

“Chelsea?” Tex blinked in confusion and shock. “What are you doing in Gilbert’s house?”

His question made sense. But how would she explain herself? The one thing she hadn’t counted on when she sneaked inside was being caught. She’d made sure Gilbert wouldn’t be here.

There was zero chance she could have anticipated Tex walking in on her. Absolutely zero.

She gripped the desk behind her to keep her balance. “Gilbert told me about some guy he used to do his landscaping. But I misplaced his name and phone number so I came over to see if I could get it.”

“And you let yourself into his office to look?” He squinted dubiously.

She knew how this must sound. She really needed to get her story straight.

She forced a shrug, hoping it looked casual. “I didn’t think he’d care, and time was of the essence. I need someone to help put my Christmas lights up, and we’re only a few days from Christmas.”

She knew by the look in Tex’s eyes that he didn’t buy her story.

She started to explain more when she heard someone else step into the house. “Hello? Is that your truck in the driveway, Tex?”

Chelsea sucked in a breath. It was Gilbert. He was home.

Her gaze flew to Tex. Would he sell her out? Tell Gilbert that she’d been snooping in here?

Then what would happen? If Gilbert wanted to, he could call the police, and she could be arrested.

How would she explain that to her students? She’d be the talk of Holly Ridge High.

Not to mention she’d be fired.

Tex gave her one last look before stepping out of the office and into the living room. She quickly followed behind, clearing the office just in time.

They met Gilbert in the hallway.

Gilbert Stevenson. Mid-sixties. He had gray hair, a neatly trimmed but longish gray beard, and a broad barrel chest. His teeth were crooked and his eyebrows bushy. But Gilbert had never let those things bother him.

He was too confident for that.

But none of those things really caught her attention. Not as much as his beady eyes, at least. She’d never trusted the man.

Gilbert’s eyes lit when he saw Tex. “You’re here. How’d you get inside?”

“The front door wasn’t latched, so I just assumed you were home.”

“That wasn’t very smart of me. It’s so good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come or not.”

“It is the holidays,” Tex said. “And your invitation had me curious.”

Chelsea found his words strange considering the fact Tex had never come back to Holly Ridge for the holidays before—or at all, for that matter.

Gilbert’s gaze flicked around Tex to her, and heat rose on her cheeks.

“After I got here, I saw Chelsea, and we’ve been catching up.” Tex squeezed her arm, almost in an affectionate manner. Or was it an attempt to reassure her?

She didn’t know. But some of the air left her lungs.

Tex hadn’t sold her out. Yet.

She’d thank him later. But she still couldn’t let down her guard.

It had been years since she’d seen Tex, and though she wanted to believe he was still the good guy she’d once known, she couldn’t be certain.

She’d only had a brief glance at him—but it had been enough for her to see his weary gaze. To see a scar at his neck. To see how much more defined his muscles had become.

“It’s so good to see both of you.” Gilbert’s gaze jumped back and forth between the two. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m sure you two do.” Chelsea swung her thumb behind her to the back door. “I should go and let you guys talk.”

“Did you need anything?” Gilbert studied her.

She wanted to cringe, but she didn’t dare do that and give anything away.

“I thought I saw Tex over here, and I just had to come to say hi.” She leaned toward Tex and squeezed his arm, trying to make her story believable.

But her throat went dry when she felt the hard muscles beneath her fingers.

Tex was no longer the boy who’d left home.

He was now all man. He was all muscles, testosterone, and confidence.

“You should come over and have dinner with us tonight.” Gilbert tilted his head as he watched for her response. “Anna will be here.”

“Anna?” Tex questioned.

“I’m actually dating someone,” Gilbert said with a grin. “The guidance counselor at school. She’s a lovely woman, and I think you’ll really like her.”

“Good for you.”

Gilbert turned back to Chelsea. “So . . . would you like to come?”

The offer might have been sincere, but something about his gaze put her on edge. She and Gilbert were colleagues at the high school, but they didn’t run in the same circles.

Nor did she want to run in the same circles.

There was something about the man she’d never trusted. Anna, however, seemed perfectly nice.

“I couldn’t possibly impose,” Chelsea finally said.

“It wouldn’t be imposing,” Gilbert said. “I’m making my famous spaghetti with garlic bread. I’ll have more than enough. You should come.”

Spaghetti and garlic bread. Gilbert often made that food for the varsity football team before their big games. All twenty-five players would pile into the house to eat, leaving with full stomachs and a game plan for the next day.

Right now, all Chelsea wanted was to get out of here. If that meant she needed to say yes, she would. She’d figure out everything else later.

“Can I bring anything?” Her voice sounded strained as she asked the question.

“How about a salad?”

She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too unnatural. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“Great.” Gilbert grinned. “Then we’ll see you at six.”

She glanced at her watch. That was only two hours away.

But at least she’d have some breathing room to think things through until then.

This entire situation—from breaking in to running into Tex—had been too close for comfort.

Because if what she suspected was true, Gilbert was in trouble.

Or he was trouble. She couldn’t make up her mind which might be the case.