Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
I swallow. “And if I do, I’m walking away from Ridgeway. From everything.”
From Riley.
The thought surfaces instantly, uninvited.
Her laugh. Her heat. The way she curled into my chest last night like she trusted me with her sleep.
And the way she kissed me like she wasn’t afraid to want.
My stomach twists.
“I’m not sure,” I admit, voice low. “I’ve got… something here.”
Nash is silent for a beat. Then his voice shifts, softer. “Her.”
I don’t answer.
Because if I say her name out loud, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep pretending she’s not changing the shape of my decisions.
Nash exhales. “Crewe. I get it.”
“You don’t,” I say, rough.
“I do,” he insists. “Because I’ve watched you hold yourself back your whole life. You’re always the calm one. The controlled one. The one who doesn’t want anything unless he’s sure he can keep it.” He pauses. “And because I’ve got something too. Laney and me.”
I smile. “Congrats, brother. I know you’ve loved her for years.”
He laughs lightly. “I think I’ve loved her before I even knew what love was. She’s on board with this. Maybe Riley will be too.”
My throat tightens.
“And now you’re afraid to ask her,” Nash continues, matter-of-fact. “And you’re thinking if you leave, you’ll lose her.”
I stare out at the snow-choked trees, jaw locked.
Nash’s voice hardens. “But Dad might be out there.”
The words slice straight through me.
“He left us,” I say, even though I don’t believe it. Even though the anger is old and bitter and protective. “He—”
“He didn’t leave,” Nash cuts in. “He was taken. Or forced underground. Or protecting us by staying gone. I don’t know. But I know this—if he’s alive, he didn’t just decide he was done being our father.”
My pulse pounds.
I think about Riley’s destroyed lab. The way someone can erase a life and leave only questions.
I think about what that would do to a family.
“What do you need from me?” I ask finally.
Nash’s breath releases like he’s been holding it. “Come on board when you can. Start lining up your exit. We’ve got leads. We’re moving.”
“And if this is connected?” I ask, the thought flashing sharp. “What if whoever’s after Riley’s program is tied to whatever happened to Dad?”
Nash goes quiet. Then, he says, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A chill creeps up my spine.
“Crewe,” Nash says, voice low, “if Dad’s still alive, someone has been controlling that truth for years. People with reach. Resources. Money.”
I swallow. “I can’t leave Riley right now.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Nash says. “I’m asking you to keep your eyes open. If this drone sabotage smells like something bigger… it probably is.”
The cabin creaks. The wind sighs. The world feels like it’s shifting under my feet.
“I’ll talk more when I’ve got her secured,” I say.
“Yeah,” Nash replies. “Do that. And Crewe?”
“Yeah.”
“If you love her…” Nash pauses like the word tastes unfamiliar. “Don’t let fear decide for you.”
My throat tightens.
“I’ll call you,” I say instead.
“Be careful,” Nash says.
“I’m always careful.”
“No, be careful with her,” he replies.
And then the line goes dead.
I stand there for a long moment, phone still pressed to my ear.
Dad is alive.
That sentence repeats in my skull like a gunshot echoing in a canyon.
I can’t accept it.
I can’t reject it.
I can only feel the way it cracks something open inside me.
Behind me, the floor creaks. I turn. Riley steps closer wrapped in the blanket like a cape, hair messy, eyes sleepy and soft.
She blinks at me, taking in my face. “What’s wrong?” she asks immediately. Her instincts are sharp.
I force my shoulders to drop. I can handle my own spiral later. “Nothing,” I lie.
Riley’s eyes narrow. “Crewe.”
I exhale. “It was Nash. My brother.”
“The one who called yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
She pads closer, bare feet silent on the wood floor. She stops in front of me, gaze searching mine like she can read every thought if she looks hard enough.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” she whispers.
I swallow. “Maybe I did.”
Before she can press, I move—because if I stand here and talk about my father possibly being alive, the floor might fall out from under me and I refuse to let her see me break.
I reach for the coffee pot. “Sit,” I tell her.
She blinks. “Are you ordering me?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth twitches. “Hot.”
I shoot her a look that should shut that down.
It doesn’t.
She wraps the blanket tighter and sits at the table, watching me like she’s not letting me off the hook.
I start cooking. Eggs. Toast. Something simple. Something normal.
My hands know what to do. My mind doesn’t.
Riley rests her chin in her palm. “Okay. So. The call.”
I crack an egg one-handed to distract myself. “Later.”
“Crewe,” she says, gentle but stubborn. “You can’t tell me you’re fine when you’re clearly not.”
I glance at her.
She’s awake now. Fully. Those blue eyes locked on mine, soft with concern in a way that makes my chest ache.