Chapter 64

RILEY

Three nights later, I sat on the top stair of the veranda, soaking in the twilight. It was my favorite time of the evening, the window between day and night, when nature showcased all its majesty in a tapestry of vibrant color.

I smiled, remembering how long it took to find the right shade of orange for my last landscape. Without some creative mixing of colors, the painting would have been flat and lifeless, a mere shadow of what nature intended.

Carefully, I stretched my injured arm, repeating the exercises the hospital's physical therapist showed me. It would take a long time to heal, but it would happen. At least Chapman's bullet hit my right arm. If it had been my left, I wouldn't have been painting for weeks.

Since I'd been home, Eric had kept mostly to himself. I wanted to talk to him, to see if he was okay. But every time he came over, he made sure Mom was in the room. I was worried about him. I knew he was busy writing and editing, but even so, it was unusual for him not to join us for lunch or dinner, or at least spend more than five minutes in the cottage.

Sherlock, on the other hand, never left my side. Mom found an old blanket in the back of the linen closet, and that was all the encouragement he needed to set up his daytime routine opposite me. He snoozed when I slept, then leapt to attention as soon as I went for a short walk. He was more relaxed than he was, but he still had a long way to go.

"Would you like a glass of orange juice?" Mom asked from the doorway.

I turned to her and smiled. "That would be wonderful."

She tilted her head to the side. "You know, you could go and speak to him."

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"If he's okay, there's no point worrying about him."

She had a point. Except I knew Eric wasn't okay. But if I asked him what was wrong, I'd have to deal with what he said. And I wasn't sure if I was ready for that.

"I had a call from our lawyer today."

My eyes widened. "What did he want?"

"Someone's interested in buying the cottage. They've approached our neighbors as well."

"Why would they want…" I frowned. "Don't tell me they want to build a resort or an apartment complex?"

"Nearly. A retirement village. Our lawyer emailed me the plans. It would have croquet lawns, an indoor pool, restaurants, and an events center."

"You're not seriously considering it, are you?"

She sat beside me. "It's not only my decision to make. Your grandma and granddad left the cottage to both of us." She stared across the backyard. "It would be a huge boost for the local economy."

"But what about all the things that have happened here? The cottage is more than a house, it's part of who we are."

"Those memories will still be with us, regardless of where we live, Riley. The money they're offering is four times what we'd get on the open market."

"Money isn't everything."

She nodded. "You're right. But it does help. I'll forward the plans to you so you can see what the developers want to do." She stood and smiled. "I'll be back soon with your juice."

"Mom?"

She looked over her shoulder.

"Do you want to sell the cottage?"

"I'll tell you after you're ready to share your final decision. The lawyer needs an answer by the end of next week."

I leaned against the wooden post. Why did life have to be so complicated?

"That's a big sigh."

Eric walked toward me. The rings under his eyes weren't quite so dark, but the frown lines around his mouth and forehead were still there.

"Mom just told me someone wants to buy the cottage. They want to build a retirement village on our property and our neighbors'."

He nodded. "How do you feel about that?"

"If it were just me making the decision, I'd say no. But Mom and I are joint owners. If she wants to sell, I don't know what we'll do."

"Did you ask her?"

"She won't tell me until I've told her my decision."

"What would you do if you did sell?"

I studied his face. Would Eric be happy if I wanted to leave or would he be disappointed? "I'd buy another property in Sunrise Bay."

A flicker of relief appeared in his eyes.

I cleared my throat. Nerves fluttered in my stomach, making me wary of asking Eric what was really on his mind. "Have you finished the last chapter of your book?"

"Not quite, but I'm getting there. I should be editing by tomorrow afternoon."

"Congratulations."

He looked at the stairs. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"I'd like that. We haven't seen very much of you." I bit my lip as he sat beside me. Did that sound too desperate? Too clingy? I hoped not.

The back door opened and Mom appeared. "I thought I heard another voice." She handed me a glass of juice and smiled at Eric. "Would you like something to drink, too?"

"No, thanks. I had something before I arrived."

"If you change your mind, there's fresh juice in the refrigerator." Mom looked at me. "I know it's early, but I'm heading to bed. Is there anything you need?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks for looking after me."

She kissed my forehead. "You're welcome. Being able to spend so much time together is a blessing. Goodnight, Eric."

"Goodnight."

After she left, I sipped my drink and listened to the sound of the forest. "This is my favorite time of the day."

"I thought it might be. You spend most evenings out here or by the lake."

I smiled. "You noticed?"

"It's hard not to. Sherlock has a sixth sense when it comes to where you are." He searched my face. "Did I say something wrong?"

I pushed away the images crowding my mind. "Jaydon Chapman said he had a sixth sense when it came to his victims."

"It will get better."

"Will it?" I looked at Eric, hoping he understood what I was going through. "I had another nightmare last night. Someone was chasing me through the forest. When I stopped running, I kept pushing the emergency button on my cell phone, but no one answered."

"It was a stress dream. You'll be okay."

"I hope so." Taking a deep breath, I focused on the here and now, not what kept me awake for most of the night. "I spoke to Detective Jameson. The man who told me Jaydon worked at the FBI was one of his neighbors. The FBI is looking into whether he was involved in any of the murders."

"That's good. They'll do everything they can to make sure anyone who was involved is brought to justice. Have you been offered any counseling?"

I nodded. "I'm not sure it will do much good."

"I used to think the same thing. I spent three months going to weekly meetings with a counselor after Mike died. It helped, but I'm not doing so well now."

"What do you mean?"

Eric wiped his hands down the sides of his jeans. "It was my fault the Chapman brothers came here. If I hadn't rented the cottage, you'd be blissfully unaware of what's happening."

I wanted to wrap my arms around Eric and tell him everything would be all right. But I wasn't sure it would get better. "Jaydon Chapman would have hurt you or anyone else who spent time with you. He was pure evil, Eric. At least I could defend myself enough to get away from him. I couldn't have done that without the self-defense moves you showed me."

"You would have found a way," he muttered.

"Maybe. But I remembered what you said about running away and thinking through the panic. It helped."

He dropped his head to his chest. "You nearly died."

"And I'm pleased to report that I didn't. How have you been? It couldn't have been easy standing close to Jaydon and not knowing what would happen."

"That's just it," Eric said heavily. "I knew what he was going to do. He would have shot you dead without blinking an eye. I don't want you in the same situation ever again."

"That makes two of us." I looked up at the sky and sighed. "When I was younger, I used to worry about a giant asteroid hitting the earth and killing everyone. Granddad told me the chance of that happening was so low it wasn't worth losing sleep over. I didn't believe him, so I went to the library and looked in a book. He was right. A large asteroid hits the earth about once in every 100 million years. So, then I thought, what if this is the year? What if we're the unlucky ones? Do you know what Granddad said?"

Eric shook his head.

"He told me that sometimes you need a little faith. Life will work out how it's supposed to—with or without my doom and gloom predictions."

"My parents would have liked your granddad. They told me something similar after Mike died."

"Did it help?"

Eric took a deep breath. "Not straight away. I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It took over my life for a while. After you were shot, it felt as though I was reliving what happened to Mike. My PTSD is back."

I wrapped my hand around his. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Be patient. Give me some time to work through what's happening."

I squeezed his fingers. "I can do that."

He searched my face. "I can't promise you anything at the moment. But you need to know that I love you. I'd give my life to keep you safe and to never have anything like this happen again."

"I know you would. Just remember what Granddad said. Have a little faith. Our lives will take the path they're supposed to."

"What if that path doesn't lead to where we think it will?"

Sadness filled my heart. "Then we make the most of where we are and be the best people we can."

Eric lifted my hand to his mouth. The gentle kiss he placed on my knuckles brought tears to my eyes. "I'm glad I met you."

I held his hand tight. "I'm glad I met you, too."

As we watched the sun set together, I realized how deeply I meant those words. No matter what happened, I'd never regret falling in love with Eric.