Page 21 of Forgiveness River

Or if he’d already disappeared into the night on whatever secret errand kept pulling him away from her.

The house was dark when Raven arrived home, no porch light left burning to welcome her. She’d forgotten to turn it on herself that morning, she realized—a small but telling sign of how disrupted their routines had become. Wyatt had always been the one to make sure the light was on if she was coming home after him.

She flipped switches as she moved through the house, chasing away shadows. Without Wyatt’s presence, the rooms felt cavernous, each familiar space transformed into something alien and unwelcoming. How quickly a house could cease to be ahome, she thought, dropping her keys on the entry table with a clatter that seemed too loud in the silence.

The message light on their landline was blinking—probably her mother calling to see how the festival booth had done. Raven ignored it, heading straight for the shower instead.

The hot water eased some of the physical tension in her shoulders, but did nothing for the knot of anxiety that had taken up permanent residence beneath her breastbone. She let her mind drift to Wyatt’s unexpected appearance at her booth, the casual kiss that had felt anything but casual, the promise to return that he hadn’t kept.

What game was he playing?

Wrapped in her robe, hair still damp, Raven padded into their bedroom. She’d left clothes strewn across the bed that morning, rushing to get to the boutique early. Now, she gathered them up, tossing them into the hamper before pulling on a soft cotton nightgown.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Wyatt.

Sorry about missing our dance. Got called to help with crowd control at north end. Festival’s running late. Don’t wait up. Rain check? – W

Raven stared at the message, noting the careful explanation and the complete lack of emotion. Another lie to add to the growing collection. She’d been at the festival’s north end with Sophie not thirty minutes ago, and there had been no issues requiring DEA or police presence.

As she placed her watch on the nightstand, she noticed that Wyatt’s side of the bed was disturbed—the comforter pulled back, the sheet wrinkled. He’d been home at some point during the day. The realization made her pause. Maybe he’d stopped by to change before his shift? But his tactical gear had looked freshly pressed at the festival.

Something made her open his nightstand drawer—intuition or perhaps just the desperate need for answers. Inside was the usual assortment of items: a paperback thriller with a bookmark halfway through, reading glasses he refused to admit he needed, a tube of ChapStick.

And a phone she’d never seen before.

It was a simple flip phone, the kind people bought with prepaid minutes at convenience stores. The kind people bought when they didn’t want their calls traced.

A burner phone.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up, her stomach clenching with dread. This was it—the evidence she’d simultaneously dreaded and sought. The explanation for the late nights, the absences, the secretive behavior.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped the phone open. The screen illuminated, revealing a single text message received just twenty minutes earlier:

Patterson Café. Riverton. 0100. Come alone.

No name. No context. Just a location, a time—1:00 a.m—and a directive.

Raven sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the phone clutched in her hand. In all her imaginings, in all her fears, she’d never quite allowed herself to believe that Wyatt might actually be having an affair. But what other explanation could there be for a secret phone, for clandestine late-night meetings?

He’d asked for her trust, and she’d tried to give it. But this tangible evidence of deception was too much to ignore.

She carefully returned the phone to exactly where she had found it and closed the drawer. The text from Wyatt still glowed on her own phone screen, his empty excuses about crowd control mocking her now that she knew the truth.

No problem. Be safe, she texted back, the lie burning her throat as she typed. Nothing was safe anymore. Nothing was certain.

She moved through their bedroom methodically, hanging up her festival clothes, applying moisturizer, going through the motions of her nightly routine while her mind raced. When had their marriage become this web of secrets and lies? When had the man she trusted most in the world become a stranger?

The clock on her nightstand read 12:15 a.m. Wyatt wouldn’t be meeting his mystery woman for another forty-five minutes.

Before she could second-guess herself, Raven grabbed her phone and dialed Sophie’s number. It rang four times before a groggy voice answered.

“Raven? It’s after midnight. Is everything okay?”

“No,” Raven said, her voice trembling slightly. “I need your help.”

Chapter Ten

“I still thinkthis is a bad idea,” Sophie whispered as they sat in her car, parked across the street from a small café in Riverton, a couple of towns away from Laurel Valley. The neon “Open 24 Hours” sign cast a reddish glow over the nearly empty parking lot where Wyatt’s truck was one of only three vehicles.

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