Page 15 of Forgiveness River

“Nothing yet.” Moss gathered the photos into a neat stack. “Thursday’s shipment is too important to jeopardize. We proceed as planned, but with adjustments. And we keep an eye on Mrs. O’Hara.” His smile was cold. “Every man has a pressure point. We’ve just found his.”

“And after Thursday?”

Moss lit another cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face in the growing darkness. “After Thursday, we teach Agent O’Hara the price of betrayal. Starting with what he loves most.”

Outside, lightning split the sky, followed by a thunderclap that shook the cabin’s weathered walls. The storm was directly overhead now, wild and merciless—much like the retribution Moss was planning for the man who had dared to infiltrate his operation.

Two could play at the deception game. And Moss intended to win, no matter the cost.

Chapter Seven

The Reading Nookheld the distinct scent that all bookstores seemed to share—paper and ink, coffee, and that indefinable magic that came from thousands of stories gathered in one place.

Raven slammed a book shut, startling an elderly customer browsing nearby. “Sorry,” she muttered, forcing a smile as she reshelved the novel she’d been trying—and failing—to read for the past fifteen minutes.

Outside, summer rain tapped against the windows in a gentle, steady rhythm, while inside, the salvaged stained-glass window transformed the gray morning light into pools of color across the polished wooden floors.

“I’d ask if you were okay, but your face answers that question,” Sophie said, appearing at her elbow with two steaming mugs. “Chamomile. My grandmother swore it could cure everything from heartache to tax audits.”

Raven accepted the tea with a weak smile. “I’m not sure there’s enough chamomile in the world for what I’m feeling.”

Sophie guided her toward the reading nook in the corner—a cozy alcove with two overstuffed chairs and a small table between them. “The early birds have cleared out, Freddie’shandling the register, and that storm is keeping the tourists at bay. Perfect time to talk.”

“That obvious?” Raven asked, sinking into the chair.

“You’ve reorganized the romance section twice, alphabetized the bookmarks, and glared at your phone approximately thirty-seven times in the last hour.” Sophie curled up in the opposite chair. “So yes, that obvious.”

Raven wrapped her hands around the warm mug, the hollow ache in her chest expanding. “He asked for two more weeks,” she said finally, the words escaping in a rush. “Two weeks before he can explain whatever he’s been doing, wherever he’s been going.” She set the mug down, afraid her trembling hands might drop it. “I don’t know if I have two more weeks in me, Soph.”

“What happened?” Sophie leaned forward, her voice gentle.

“I confronted him.” Raven stood, too restless to remain seated. She paced the small area, the rhythmic sound of the rain a counterpoint to her agitated movements. “About the motel receipt, about Duncan seeing him at the Murphy cabin at dawn when he should have been at the station. About all of it.”

“And?”

“He said he couldn’t tell me yet. That it’s complicated.” Raven’s laugh held no humor. “You know what’s not complicated? Telling your wife the truth.”

The bell above the door jingled. Both women glanced over to see a mother with two children enter, shaking raindrops from their umbrellas. Freddie greeted them cheerfully from behind the counter.

“Did you believe him?” Sophie asked when they were alone again. “When he denied having an affair?”

Raven paused by the window, watching raindrops race down the pane. “Yes,” she admitted, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice. “When he looked me in the eyes and denied it—yes, I believed him. But that almost makes it worse.”

Sophie’s expression softened with understanding. Raven took a sip of the tea, wrapping her hands around the warm cup for comfort. The hollow ache in her chest remained, but simply being here with Sophie helped steady her.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” she admitted, staring into the dark liquid as if it might hold answers. “One minute I’m convinced he’s having an affair, the next I’m worried he’s in some kind of trouble. Then I start wondering if maybeI’mthe problem—if I’ve been so wrapped up in the boutique that I pushed him away without realizing it.”

Sophie settled into the chair across from her, tucking one leg beneath her with casual grace. “What does your heart tell you?”

Raven laughed mirthlessly. “My heart’s as confused as the rest of me.” She sipped her tea, gathering her thoughts. “When I look in his eyes, I still see the man I fell in love with. The man who serenaded me outside my dorm room my freshman year of college. The man who danced with me in our kitchen at midnight just because he felt like holding me.” She swallowed hard against the knot forming in her throat. “But then he disappears for hours, comes home smelling like cigarettes and secrets, and won’t tell me where he’s been. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

The rain intensified outside, drumming against the roof in a crescendo that matched the pounding of her heart. Lightning flickered, briefly illuminating Sophie’s thoughtful face.

“Trust is hard when someone’s keeping secrets,” Sophie said.

“Exactly.” Raven exhaled heavily, her breath fogging the rim of her cup. “I stopped taking birth control three months ago. We’d been talking about starting a family, and it seemed like the right time. Or it would have been—” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “We haven’t made love once in those three months. Not once. He’s either not home, or too exhausted, or alreadyasleep when I go to bed.” She blinked rapidly against fresh tears. “It’s like we’re strangers living in the same house.”

Sophie reached across the space between them, squeezing Raven’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

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