Page 20 of Big Risks

And he's right. It is too late. Whatever line we weren't supposed to cross, we've left it far behind.

"Goodnight, Walker," I say, fumbling for my car door.

"Goodnight, Hailey."

I drive home in a daze, my lips still tingling. By the time I reach my house, my mind is spinning with the feel of Walker's mouth on mine, and with Olivia's odd comment about her mother crying over letters.

Unable to sleep, I grab my laptop and open a browser window. It feels invasive, searching for information about Walker's dead wife, but Olivia's words won't leave me alone.

I type "Walker Ellison Wife Big Wood TN" into the search bar. The first result is a wedding announcement from eight years ago. "Walker Ellison and Riley Reid united in marriage." No photo, just a brief notice. They would have been so young.

Next, I find a brief obituary from three years ago. "Riley Reid, age 27. Survived by her daughter, Olivia." No mention of a husband. Strange.

I dig deeper and find a local news article about a car accident around the same time. "Two fatalities in Highway 16 collision." No names listed, just that the accident occurred late at night and both victims were pronounced dead at the scene.

My stomach knots as I stare at the screen. Something doesn't add up. If Riley died in that accident, who was the second person? And why wasn't Walker mentioned in her obituary?

I close my laptop, feeling suddenly like an intruder. Whatever happened between Walker and his wife is his business. He'll tell me if and when he wants to.

But as I finally drift toward sleep, Olivia's words echo in my mind: "She'd hide in the kitchen when Daddy's letters came."

Letters. Not emails or texts or phone calls. Letters, like someone writing from far away. Or from somewhere you can't make phone calls.

Like prison.

I push the thought away. That's ridiculous. Walker is the most gentle, caring person I've ever met. There has to be another explanation.

But sleep eludes me. My mind is caught between the memory of Walker's kiss and the growing certainty that there's something he isn't telling me.

Chapter 6

Walker

The house is quiet again. That kind of quiet that either settles your soul or digs its claws in. Tonight, it’s the latter.

Three days since the BBQ. Three days of avoiding Hailey like it might stop the want from sinking deeper into my bones. Spoiler: it hasn’t.

"Daddy, when is Miss Hailey coming over again?" Olivia asks as we finish up the movie she talked me into watching this afternoon.

"I don't know, kiddo. She's busy with her new house and stuff."

"But she likes us."

That certainty? It hits me right in the chest.

“She does,” I whisper, because it’s true. She likes Olivia. It’s me she’s probably regretting.

I'm halfway through loading the dishwasher from lunch when the doorbell rings. Olivia bolts from her chair at the table where she has been coloring, so fast she nearly knocks it over.

"I'll get it!" she shouts, already racing down the hall.

"Olivia Grace! What have I told you about—"

But she's already yanked the door open, and I hear it before I see it: Hailey's laugh, bright and warm.

"Hey, munchkin! Is your dad home?"

I round the corner, dish towel in hand, and there she is in jeans, with a soft blue shirt that makes her eyes pop like a punch to the gut, and a paper bag that smells like heaven.

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