Page 16 of Stolen Vows

I relax my jaw, forcing my fingers to unclench around my cup. “Mrs. Dunlap. I didn’t see you there.”

Her smile is warm, friendly. The same as it always was.

I was eight years old, sitting at the back of her classroom, struggling to make sense of things that came so easily to the other kids. She’d never made me feel stupid. Never sighed in frustration or dismissed me.

Instead, she’d stayed after school, almost every afternoon for a year, patiently going over math problems and reading passages, walking me through it until something finally clicked.

Even now, decades later, I can’t bring myself to brush her off. Not after everything she did for me.

She gestures toward the counter, her eyes twinkling. “Making new friends, I see?”

I tip my head slightly, giving her a little smirk. “Something like that.”

Mrs. Dunlap hums, taking a careful sip of her tea. Too knowing. Too damn perceptive.

“You know, Avalon Falls isn’t that big,” she muses. “Word gets around quick when someone new moves into town.”

I arch a brow. “Okay?”

“And,” she says, smiling like she’s already won this conversation, “it won’t take those wolves you call friends long to snatch her up.”

A flicker of something sharp slides under my skin.

I don’t have many people I actually consider friends. I have associates, acquaintances. Guys I kept in touch with after college. Guys I see at The Alley—what we started calling the old Avalon Falls Speedway. Some friends of my brother’s.

And yeah, those guys don’t deserve to share the same air as Francesca.

My grip tightens around my coffee. “She’s just visiting.” Even as I say it, uncertainty weighs down my brow.

“Still.” Mrs. Dunlap sets down her tea with a soft clink, tilting her head in that way that used to mean I’d gotten an answer wrong on a math test. “You’re too good a person to let her get eaten alive by them.”

She pats the edge of her table, already moving on from the topic, like she hasn’t just thrown a lit match into a gasoline-soaked thought.

I exhale. “Right. Well, I better get back to work.” I give her a small nod and turn for the door.

“She went right, dear,” she calls out as I push it open.

My chest goes tight. I glance over my right shoulder, already knowing she won’t be there. But I can’t resist the pull.

And just like I thought—she’s already gone. But lucky for me, I’ve gotten really fucking good at finding things.

The drive home is a blur,my mind looping the last twenty minutes on repeat.

Francesca. Here. In Avalon Falls.

Five years later, and somehow, she’s even more beautiful than I remember. More vibrant. More alive. And just as fucking untouchable.

I grit my teeth, knuckles flexing against the steering wheel as I pull into my driveway. My house rises in front of me—all sleek lines, dark wood, and massive windows. It does nothing to calm the restless energy buzzing beneath my skin.

I park in the garage, slamming the door behind me as I stride toward the kitchen entrance, my phone already in my hand. Thumbprint. Unlock. Screen brightens.

“It should be easy,” I murmur. “A few clicks, a couple of searches, and I’ll have her information tonight.”

There are only a few minor roadblocks—her last name, where she lives, literally any other details.

But I’ve done more with less before.

I step inside, the quiet settling over me like a weighted blanket. It should be grounding. Instead, it just feels off.

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