Page 57 of Montana Justice

Had I been smiling? The past seven days felt like a dream I was afraid to wake from. After our first date—my first real date—something had shifted between us. We’d been sharing his bed every night, falling asleep tangled together and waking up the same way. He’d loved me with a tenderness that made me want to weep, whispered promises against my skin that I stored up like treasures I didn’t deserve. I’d loved him with a passion that had surprised us both.

I’d tried to compartmentalize it all. Lock the happiness in one box, the guilt in another, the terror in a third. If I looked at the whole picture, if I let myself think about how this would end, I’d shatter completely.

“See?” Jada pointed at me. “That’s the face of a woman who’s been properly f?—”

“Children present!” Evelyn sang out, covering Avery’s ears while the little girl giggled.

“I was going to say ‘fomanced.’” Jada’s grin was wicked. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Evelyn.”

“My mind lives in the gutter,” Evelyn said. “It’s cozy there.”

“Anyway,” Emma intervened, “what we’re saying is that it’s nice to see Lachlan happy. He’s been alone too long, throwing himself into work. You’re good for him.”

The words hit like solid punches.Good for him. If only they knew the truth—that I was toxic, that every moment of happiness I stole with him was paid for with betrayal. That I’d spent the week sneaking photos of Pawsitive’s deliveryschedules, memorizing which companies brought supplies when, documenting every pattern Ray could exploit.

That I’d earned another precious thirty-second picture that kept me going, kept me believing this would somehow work out, even as I destroyed everything good in my life.

“I don’t know about that,” I managed.

“We do,” Evelyn said firmly.

“Someone told Daniel that Lachlan’s been whistling at work,” Emma added. “Actual whistling. The man who usually walks around looking like he’s personally responsible for every crime in the state.”

“He takes his job seriously,” I said, defensive of him even as I undermined everything he worked for.

“Too seriously sometimes,” Jada said. “But lately? He’s been different. Lighter, even with the stuff that’s been going on. He actually smiled when he pulled someone over for speeding last week. Mrs. Multari thought he was having a stroke.”

I had no idea what to say to that.

“Oh!” Emma suddenly clapped her hands. “Before I forget—you and Lachlan need to come to family dinner tonight.”

I blinked at the subject change. “Family dinner?”

“First Friday of the month,” Evelyn explained, finally setting Zeke down with strict instructions to stay away from the fence. “We all get together at the ranch, potluck-style. Kids run wild, adults actually get to finish conversations, nobody has to do all the cooking or cleaning up.”

“I don’t know…” The thought of integrating further into their group, of pretending to belong when I was actively betraying one of their own, made my stomach churn.

“No excuses,” Jada said. “First-timers don’t have to bring anything. Just show up, eat, and prepare to be adopted by the pushiest, most loving group of people you’ll ever meet.”

“Lachlan might have to work?—”

“He won’t,” Emma said confidently. “Even Sheriff Sexy knows better than to miss family dinners without a real emergency.”

There it was again.Sheriff Sexy. Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. “Does he know you all call him that?”

“God no,” Evelyn said. “He’d never leave his house again. The man can face down armed criminals, but genuine compliments make him turn red and stumble over his words.”

That was true. Just this morning, I’d told him how good he looked in his uniform, and he’d actually walked into the doorframe on his way out. It had been adorable and had made me want to drag him back to bed, duty be damned.

“So, you’ll come?” Emma pressed. “Six o’clock at the lodge. You can’t miss it—it’s the big building with approximately forty thousand toys scattered across the front yard.”

Avery turned to me. “Daddy is teaching me knife throwing.”

I could feel my eyes getting wide.

“He’s teaching youfoamknife throwing,” Evelyn corrected quickly. “With very soft, very safe foam knives that couldn’t hurt a butterfly.”

“Anyway,” Emma said loudly, “family dinner. Six o’clock. Be there or face the wrath of twenty well-meaning adults who will absolutely show up at your house with casseroles.”

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