Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

CONNOR

Neil's eyes locked onto mine, and I could instantly see where his brain had gone. His dad, here in front of him, was covered in blood. I was standing there with a bloodied nose. I watched his spine straighten—that sudden steel in his posture that meant he was ready to take control of the situation.

"What happened?" Neil asked, his voice steady but his eyes drilling into me. "What did you do?"

Yep, I knew he'd go there. Before I could respond, Solomon spoke up, trying to ease the tension. "Your mom and dad were in a wreck," he said. "We've called the doc, and he's on his way."

Neil's gaze didn't waver from me. "What happened?" he repeated, frustration creeping into his voice as he looked at everyone, but no one else seemed to have the answer he was looking for.

I took a step closer, knowing I needed to explain before he jumped to any more conclusions. "I was driving out to Lennox Ranch," I started, keeping my tone calm and measured, "and I saw a car in the ditch. I pulled over and helped the driver and passenger out. The driver was disoriented … and, uh … got the beat on me. I brought them here. Your dad was driving and got a cut on his forehead—it's bleeding pretty badly. Your mom is okay."

Neil's mom spoke up, her voice shaky. "I didn't want your dad to drive off alone, but … he got confused, and we ended up in that ditch. I'm so sorry, Neil. And I'm sorry he punched Connor, who was trying to help."

Neil glanced over at his mom, his expression softening, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. He walked over to her, crouching down to meet her eyes. "Are you okay, Mom?"

She nodded, though she was still shaken. "I'm fine. It's just … your father … I should have insisted on driving."

"You know he hates letting others drive," Neil murmured. "It's not your fault, Mom."

Neil glanced at Jason, sitting quietly with his grandpa and holding his hand. Jason stared back with wide eyes, clearly trying to be brave.

"Grandpa's okay, right, Uncle Neil?" Jason asked, his voice small.

Neil forced a smile, ruffling Jason's hair. "Yeah, buddy, Grandpa's okay. He needs a little help right now, and the doctor will be here soon to ensure that."

Jason nodded, reassured, though he didn't release his grandpa's hand.

Neil stood and faced me again, his eyes still carrying that wary expression. "Thanks for helping them, Connor," he said, though his voice still hinted at tension.

"Anytime," I replied, keeping my voice steady, although I knew we'd have more to discuss later. His father's dementia had advanced, and I wondered if maybe Neil's father had suffered a breakdown or worse. Of course, I knew about Neil's parents—I had files on everyone. I knew he'd been sheriff way back, I knew he'd been shot even further back when he was in the army, and I knew that the bullet fragment had caused these issues. I also knew there was nothing anyone could do. My heart hurt for the family as they tried to hold everything together.

"Did someone call Bessie?" he asked.

I nodded. Calling his sister was one of the first things I'd done after contacting the doctor.

The door opened, and Daniel hurried in, assessing the situation. As he moved to check on Neil's dad, I stepped back, giving them space. Neil stayed close to his parents, his focus shifting to them, but I could still feel the weight of his earlier gaze on me, thinking I'd done something to his family.

That hurt, but there again, my reputation preceded me.

The immediate crisis was being handled, but I knew this wasn't over. There was more to this—more to talk about and figure out. But I'd stay close in case Neil needed me again. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, I was here, and I wasn't going anywhere.

Daniel insisted that Neil's dad get checked out at the hospital in Collier Springs, and just like that, Solomon and I were left in the building. The place felt emptier than usual, the tension from earlier still hanging in the air. I didn't want to stick around longer than necessary, so I exited, heading out to Lennox Ranch for the meeting with Quinn I'd delayed after finding the car in the ditch.

I drove past said car, which was off the main road, and texted Neil the location so the department could deal with it later. Then it was straight on, passing the main ranch, the familiar buildings and fields slipping by as I carried on up the hill to where Quinn and Levi had built their new place. It was on a stretch of land Levi had bought from Micah, perched to catch the best views of the surrounding landscape. The log cabin that came into view was nothing short of impressive. Fancy, but not pretentious—precisely what I'd expect from Quinn and Levi.

The cabin was large, crafted from thick logs, giving it a rugged, earthy charm. It was the kind of place that felt solid, as though it could weather any storm, and in fact, it had weathered the storm of the century that had created the landslide. Note to self: ensure the cabin is built on bedrock and nowhere near an underground watercourse. Something I was sure Quinn's architect would have checked.

A wrap-around porch hugged the building, adding a touch of warmth and welcome. Off to the side, a second set of stables sat on a large, flat yard, well-maintained and close for Levi's work with the horses.

As I pulled up, I spotted Levi in the field, training. He moved with a quiet confidence, entirely in tune with the animal. I waved, and he lifted a hand before returning to the horse, focused on the task.

I made my way up to the house, my boots echoing on the wooden steps as I climbed onto the porch. Inside, the cabin was just as impressive—cozy but spacious, with large windows letting in natural light. Quinn and Levi had made a real home here, and I hated to admit it, but envy twinged in me. This jealousy over what everyone else had was happening all too often, and I hated the intrusive thoughts.

"Get a grip," I muttered.

I found Quinn in his office, surrounded by papers and a few open laptops.

Quinn glanced up as I entered, his face breaking into a wide smile. He was different from the man I'd met a few years ago. Back then, he was guarded, always looking over his shoulder, always in the media. Now, he was relaxed, happy, and content—a man who'd found his place in the world. At the moment, his hair was the palest shade of blue, which only added to his serene appearance.

"Connor," he greeted, still smiling as he leaned back in his chair. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," I replied, taking a seat opposite him. "What's this about?"

Since my security work with Quinn had lessened, I'd taken on other projects, but I assumed one of those was why Quinn had called me that day. He didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"I've been working on something for a while now," Quinn began, his tone turning serious. "I'm looking to expand the foundation. I want to set up some scholarships for two students I've been sponsoring through their senior years at school, Bryce Anderson and Dillon James. But first, I've invited them to come and stay here at Lennox Ranch for a bit in the New Year, so I thought you'd want a heads-up to run your usual checks."

I grinned at my boss. "Bold of you to assume I haven't already done that on anything you are connected with."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course you have."

"But I'll double-check everything, just to be safe."

Quinn's smile softened, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "How are you?"

That was a question from nowhere. "I'm good," I answered, but he wasn't done.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"No."

He brushed imaginary lint from his pants and wouldn't meet my eyes. "Sooo," he drawled. "Noah told Chris, who told Daniel, who told Micah, who then told Levi…" He paused and bit his lip.

"Noah told who what?" I was sharp, but I wasn't following all of that.

"You're in and out of Neil's place, and y'know, doing the horizontal mambo." Quinn shimmied in his seat, then formed a circle with one hand, poking a finger through.

I covered my eyes. The last thing I needed to see was my boss simulating whatever that was. "‘The horizontal mambo'?" I repeated after a pause.

"I thought you didn't get on," Quinn finished, and I waited for more because I knew he'd have something to add. "If you want to talk about it."

"You want to talk about me having sex with the town sheriff?" I asked.

He snickered, "Well, when you put it that way…"

I could laugh this off, but Quinn was a friend I could talk to about anything, and no filters were needed with him. So, I took a deep breath and steadied myself, and he perked up as if I would give him the best gossip.

"I don't know," I began, which was a lame start. "What's happening between us, it's … it's not just physical."

"Oooh, this is good," Quinn said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell me more about you and the studly sheriff getting physical and how you're feeling more ."

I paused, the words feeling as heavy as they were real. The silence stretched out, but I knew Quinn was giving me space to gather my thoughts. Neil had gotten under my skin big time, and how I was going to navigate that, I wasn't sure yet. But acknowledging it to someone—anyone—was a start.

"It's unnerving," I confessed, running a hand through my hair. "Because it's not just about the sex, you know? It feels like there's something more, something more than fighting and fucking. Something deeper." Now what? "And that's all I can say."

Quinn seemed disappointed I'd stopped, but then he brightened. "I get it. Relationships can be complex, especially when they start touching parts of you that you didn't expect." He waggled his eyebrows.

I sighed with added drama. "Idiot."

The admission made it real, making my feelings for Neil something I couldn't ignore or brush off as a fling. It was more , and admitting it out loud meant I had to confront the implications of what that more could mean for my future .

"Oh boy, you have it bad," he murmured. "You're all loved up."

"Sexed up," I amended.

He smirked. "I said what I said."

"You're an asshole."

"Are there wedding bells in the future? Will you be Mr. Sheriff?"

I picked up a fancy cushion from the spare office chair and threw it at him. My aim was deadly, and he got a face full of fake fur. "I'm done here," I grumbled.

He laughed. "Well, if I can't hear all about your love life, do you want to see my new coffee machine?"

Anything to stop the embarrassment, yes. "Lead the way."

We ended up in the front room with the views down the mountain, in overstuffed sofas, sipping coffee from mugs that were probably worth more than most people's rent. The smell of fresh coffee filled the room, warm and rich, as we chatted about everything and nothing. Quinn wasn't only my boss; he was my friend, and moments like these reminded me of that. The heavy stuff could wait. For now, it was the two of us enjoying a rare quiet moment, and I wasn't going to talk anymore about how I was in and out of the sheriff's bed.

But I'd wanted to. God, I'd been bursting with the need to tell my best friend about how I was catching feelings, how Neil was a god in bed, and how much I wanted him.

What stopped me?

Maybe the fact I'd have to own up to how I was feeling and that somehow this wasn't something to brag about but was real .

Too real.

As we talked about the countdown to Christmas—which freaked me out, given it was only September—the sound of light padding on the hardwood floor caught my attention. Sky, Levi's blue merle collie, trotted in and, without missing a beat, jumped onto the sofa, turning three times before settling down with his head nestled in Quinn's lap.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Does Levi know he's up on the sofa?"

Quinn shot me a conspiratorial grin. "No, and what Levi doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Hurt who?" Levi said from the doorway.

I turned to see him walking in, his cowboy hat askew, dust on his boots, and that easy, natural grace from a lifetime spent working with horses. He had the classic cowboy look down to a T—worn jeans, a faded flannel shirt, and a broad leather belt. He walked over to the sofa, leaning down to give Quinn an upside-down kiss as he ruffled Sky's fur.

"Jesus, Quinn, you're spoiling that dog," Levi said with a mock scolding tone, though the affection in his voice was apparent.

Quinn laughed, a sound that was light and carefree. "Says the man who lets Sky sleep in our bed whenever I'm not home," he shot back.

Levi straightened up, feigning innocence. "Hey, the bed's big enough for all three of us."

"Next thing I know, you'll invite Blake in too?"

Blake was Levi's horse, and I couldn't imagine Blake getting through the doorway, let alone climbing on a bed .

Sky let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping on the sofa as he snuggled closer to Quinn. I watched as Levi sat beside him, one hand resting on Quinn's knee, the other scratching Sky behind the ears.

They were a picture of happiness that was rare to find but even rarer to hold onto. Watching them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace in this home. Quinn and Levi had found something special that made all the chaos worth it.

And in moments like this, it felt as though I'd found a bit of that peace, too, and not only by being part of their lives. The past few years had been a wild ride, but seeing them here, like this, made me think that maybe, just maybe, we were all where we were supposed to be.

Maybe I was supposed to be here in Whisper Ridge with Neil.

"More coffee?" Quinn asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah," I said, holding out my mug. "I'll take another one."

When Quinn padded out, Levi sat forward. "Little bird says they saw you leaving the sheriff's place a few days back looking all kinds of disheveled and blissed out."

"Freaking small towns," I muttered.

"So?"

"So what?" I played dumb.

"Are you bumping uglies with our sheriff?"

I could laugh it off, make a joke, but something stopped me. "Ask your husband," I deadpanned.

And I left before he did that very thing right before me .

The minutes dragged by as the darkness outside deepened as I waited at Neil's place, using the code he'd given me to get inside.

Or the code I'd seen him use, which he reluctantly confirmed. Tomatoes, To-mah-toes.

I knew he was back in Whisper Ridge—I'd seen his distinctive SUV—and the house felt empty without him, too quiet, too still. I tried to keep busy—cleaned up the kitchen, straightened the living room, even considered cooking something—but nothing could distract me from the gnawing worry that had settled in my chest. I knew today had been hell for him, and all I wanted was to be there when he walked through the door.

It was late by the time I heard his car pulling up. I stood by the window, watching as he stepped out, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his movements slow and heavy.

When he finally came inside, I was there, waiting. He didn't say a word. He walked into my arms, burying his face in my neck. His silence spoke volumes, the tension in his body telling me everything I needed to know. He was exhausted, drained by the day's events, and I could feel the tremors running through him, the way he held on as if he were afraid to let go.

"They're keeping him in the hospital."

"Come on," I murmured, guiding him toward the bathroom. "Let's get you in the shower."

He didn't protest—he followed my lead, his steps slow and unsteady. Once in the bathroom, I turned on the water, letting it run until it was warm enough, then helped him out of his clothes. He stood there, leaning against me for support, his head bowed, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

When I got him under the spray, he sighed, the hot water washing away some of the tension. I joined him, wrapping my arms around him, feeling his body relax a fraction as the warmth seeped into his bones. He was too quiet, and I knew his mind was a thousand miles away, lost in the worries that had been eating at him all day.

"It's not fair," he whispered, his voice cracking. "None of this is fair."

"I know," I said softly, kissing his temple. "I know."

"They said he might've had a mini-stroke. A transient ischemic attack," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't… I don't know how much longer he's going to be okay. It's like he's slipping away, piece by piece, and I can't do anything to stop it."

I tightened my hold on him, feeling the raw pain in his words. "It's not fair," I agreed, my heart aching for him. "But you're doing everything you can. You're here for him, and that's what matters."

He nodded against me, but I could feel the tears he was holding back, the silent struggle to keep it together. I turned him around, pressing him back against the cool tiles, my hands cupping his face, forcing him to meet my eyes.

"You're not alone in this, Neil. I can be here for you if you want me to."

"I don't even like you," he lied.

"Yes, you do," I whispered .

His gaze softened, and momentarily, I saw the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. He nodded again, a slight, almost invisible movement, and I kissed him, slow and tender, attempting to pour all the reassurance I could into that one simple act.

When we made love, I took control, guiding him, holding him close, making sure he felt every bit of the strength I wanted to give him. I held his hands, our fingers laced, grounding him, letting him know he didn't have to be alone.

He clung to me, his breath hitching as we moved together, his body trembling under mine. I whispered soft words of comfort, promises I'd stay tonight. And when it was over, and he lay in my arms, spent and vulnerable, I stroked his hair, easing him into sleep.

"Go to sleep, babe," I whispered, pressing a final kiss to his forehead. "I've got you."

His breathing evened out, the tension slipping away as he drifted off. I held him close, and with him safe in my arms, I slept as well.

My last thought was that I hadn't told him that people in town knew we were having a thing .

Tomorrow would be soon enough to share the news that might upset Neil.

He really needed to sleep.