Page 5 of Montana Justice

That explained the festive atmosphere and the multiple rounds of toasts I’d witnessed. His friends had mostly left, but I let my gaze drift around the room again, automatically cataloging details. The man in the corner booth had pulled out his wallet three times to buy rounds—definitely carrying cash. The woman at the small table by the window kept checking her phone in a designer purse that probably cost more than I’d seen in six months.

But even as I mentally tallied potential marks, part of me was genuinely happy for Lachlan. Sheriff was exactly the kind of job he’d been meant for.

“You always wanted to be in law enforcement, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. My father wanted me to go into real estate brokerage with him, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to help people.”

That’s exactly how I remembered him. He’d been one of the few people in town who’d looked at me like I was a person instead of the garbage the town thought I was because of the Matthews name.

I remember how I’d cried for three days after he’d left for college when I was twelve, because he’d been the only bright spot in my increasingly dark world. He’d never known about that, of course.

“Makes total sense,” I said. “Did you go to college?”

“Yeah, Montana State. Majored in Criminal Justice. Then came back here and became a deputy.” He grinned. “Actually, I’m the youngest sheriff in Garnet Bend’s history, which means I’ve got a lot to prove.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable, mixed with just enough uncertainty to make him seem human instead of perfect. I found myself leaning forward slightly, drawn in despite myself.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you end up going to college? I know you had the smarts for it.”

The question stabbed deeper than it should have. I’d dreamed about college once upon a time, spent hours in the school library researching programs I’d never be able to afford. Business, maybe, or advertising. Something that would let me use the quick thinking and people-reading skills I’d developed out of necessity for something good instead of just survival.

Instead, I’d spent the last eight years learning how to read people for entirely different reasons. How to spot who carried cash versus cards. How to identify the ones who wouldn’t make a scene if they caught me. How to disappear into a crowd when things went wrong.

“College wasn’t really for me,” I said, the lie sliding out smooth as silk. “I’m more of a free spirit, I guess.”

Lachlan nodded, but I caught something in his expression—like he could sense there was more to the story. Those perceptive brown eyes had always seen too much. I needed to redirect again, and fast.

“So you always knew you wanted to come back to Garnet Bend?”

He nodded. “Always. This place… It’s home, you know? And with everything that’s happened here in the past few years, all the good changes, I wanted to be part of that.”

“Changes?”

As he told me about the Resting Warrior Ranch and Pawsitive Connections, I found myself genuinely fascinated despite my situation. A place for people dealing with PTSD, a program that trained therapy animals—it sounded like something out of a dream. The kind of help people like mymother could have used, if she’d ever been willing to admit she needed it.

“That’s wonderful.” I truly meant what I said. The idea that this little town had become a beacon of hope for people who needed it most… It was exactly the kind of thing I would have expected from a place that had produced someone like Lachlan.

But even as we talked, part of my mind was calculating. The woman by the window had left her purse hanging on the back of her chair when she’d gone to the bathroom five minutes ago. The man in the corner had definitely had too much to drink—his wallet would be easy pickings if I could get close enough.

I hated myself for thinking it. Hated that I was sitting here with the one person who’d ever made me feel like I might be worth something, and all I could think about was how to steal from his neighbors.

But I had less than twenty dollars to my name and nowhere to sleep tonight. Good intentions wouldn’t fill my empty stomach or keep me from freezing to death under some bridge.

And they definitely wouldn’t keep me safe from my father.

“Resting Warrior and Pawsitive have been really good for the local economy too,” Lachlan continued. “New shops, restaurants, people. The town’s thriving in a way it never did when we were kids.”

When we were kids. The phrase hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken history.

“When you were still here,” he corrected quietly.

There it was. The topic we’d been carefully avoiding. My family’s disgraceful exit from Garnet Bend eight years ago, driven out like the criminals we were.

I stared down at my hands wrapped around my glass, noting how the bruises on my knuckles had faded to a sickly yellow. “That was a long time ago.”

“I was there that night.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

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