Page 116 of Saving Grace

I walk back through the front door, ready to set them straight. To tell them to leave and never look back. I close the door behind me with a soft click, and when I turn back to the yard, I find Joel gripping the stair rail with one hand. His strung-out eyes meet mine.

Dammit.

“Graceless. You know, this town put up a good fight, trying to hide you from me. But here’s the thing, I’m smarter than them. Thanyou. You’ve got nowhere left to run. Time to go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave, and don’t bother coming back. Ever.”

I square my shoulders back and set my jaw, like that will make my words pack more punch.

He takes a step moving onto the first tread. “Yeah, you realize you belong tome. You don’t belong here.” He waves a hand around and leans forward.

I step back.

Sliding my arms crossed, I think of Louisa, Ruby. Addy. Every woman in this wonderful family who owns their life. Doesn’t take shit from anyone, least of all a pathetic excuse for a man like Joel. “Listen to these words because they’re the last you’re getting from me: We are over. Leave. Now.” My words are a growl.

Something thumps inside.

Shit.

Please stay asleep, baby.

Joel closes the distance between us until he towers over me. The tang of stale cigarettes and old bourbon hits me. I recoil and put space between us. I grit my teeth, grinding my molars before tilting my head to meet his bloodshot gaze. “Get away from me. Get out of Montana. I’m not yours. I never will be, ever again.”

He rubs a hand over his chin and scoffs a manic laugh.

The door opens behind me.

Sweet Jesus, no.

Joel backs up a step. His face splits with a smirk. “Oh, now I see how it is.”

The guttural raw sound leaving Mack sends goosebumps over my skin. He hobbles over the threshold on his cane.

“The fuck off my property, asshole.”

The vein in his neck thunders. His knuckles are white around the stick.

Something is clip-clopping toward the house, but the sound is drowned out by the blood now thundering through my head. Rage swells like wildfire in my core. I step in front of Mackinlay. I shove Joel with one hand, hard. “Leave.”

He cackles. “After you.” He waves an arm toward the car, his movement sloppy.

“Never.”

His head snaps down as his lip curls up with a growl.

His hand slams around my throat.

“Fuck you, bitch. You come with us, or we torch this whole fucking joint, with your loser of a fuck buddy inside.”

The loudest crack splits the air.

Every head swings toward the sound.

I smack his hand from my throat, breathless as fire flings into my veins with his cruel words. It’s all I can do to keep my gaze on the source of the sound. Rifle. Horse.

Louisa sits on her black horse, her rifle still pointed at her target. The Volvo’s trunk. Timmy flies out of the car in a tangle of limbs, curses tumbling from his mouth.

“She asked you to leave. I suggest you do as she says, son.” Louisa trains the rifle on Joel and cocks the lever in one fluid motion. Her face is stone, black hat tilted so she can find her aim. Gaze homed in on Joel.

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