Page 63 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Taken care of.”

“Thank you,” I sigh exasperatedly as she’s silent. My frustration is barely concealed but my shoulders have loosened knowing I’m about to make this right. I wasn’t there to protect her initially, but I’ll be there now.

“Go take care of your grandson and Georgia. I’ll hold down the fort.”

The two-and-a-half-hour train ride feels endless. Every stop, every turn only makes my frustration and rage burn hotter.

I know it’s irrational—I can’t be everywhere at once—but my family has always been my top priority. Always. Whether it’s my family in North Carolina, my family here, or Max, wherever he is.Thisis why I do what I do. But why am I spending so much time in the city, away from the people I’m supposed to protect? Away from Georgia and Liam when they needed me most.

My hand twitches with the old urge to hit something—an instinct from my rougher days growing up. She looked so scared in those photos. Terrified. I want to call her, hear her voice, make sureshe’s okay, but that won’t be enough. I need to see her. To look her in the eyes and know for certain that she’s safe.

By the time I pull up to the house, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. I step inside, expecting to find them there, but the place is quiet.

Instinct pulls my gaze toward the beach.

There they are—Georgia and Liam, kneeling in the sand, building what looks like an elaborate castle. I linger in the doorway, watching. The sunlight catches in her strawberry-blonde hair, igniting it in a halo of gold and copper, while Liam darts around her, carefree and laughing, his earlier fear from the photographs nowhere in sight. But when Georgia shifts, rising from her crouch and brushing sand from her legs, I catch the briefest wince.

That small flicker of pain tightens something in my chest. I pull out my phone but don’t dial. I just stand there, still hidden in the house, watching her—unable to look away. She’s always been beautiful. I’ve known it from the moment I met her. But I see her differently now, in a way my own pride and stubbornness had blinded me to before.

That changes today. Because I refuse to miss it again.

“Hi Troy, what can I help you with?” Eleanor answers on the first ring.

“Any chance you can pick Liam up a little early for the weekend?”

“Thought you might ask that and already planned to. I saw the news.”

I draw in a breath as we both sit on the line in the silence.

“She’ll be alright. She’s resilient. Her instincts protected them both. I bet Liam’s already forgotten all about it.”

“Yes, but this is our life now. I should have been there to protect them.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t always be everywhere. Liam will not remember this, but Georgia might. It’s not the life she signed up for working for you. Tell her you’re sorry and you’re there for her. And hire her some damn security for when they go out next time.”

“I know. I will.”

“See you in ten minutes.”

She hangs up, but I linger on the deck for a while longer, watching them play before heading inside to pack Liam’s overnight bag. Just as I finish, I hear Eleanor’s car pull up. I step out onto the deck as she calls out for Liam.

“Elle!” he squeals, sprinting from the sand and tumbling a few times before bouncing back to his feet. Georgia follows closely behind him, her pretty eyes locked onto mine, the question of what’s going on hanging between us.

"I asked her to pick up Liam a little early for the weekend. I hope that's okay?" I say, glancing at Georgia.

She nods as Eleanor lifts Liam into her arms.

"Hi, Papa!" he chirps when he spots me.

"Hey, buddy… I’ll see you Sunday, alright?"

"Okay!" He grins, completely unbothered, as if today hadn’t been absolute chaos.

I catch Eleanor’s eye and mouth a silentthank youbefore she heads for the door, leaving just Georgia and me in the quiet house.

She exhales, shifting her weight. “I think I’m gonna go shower…” Her voice trails off, but before she can take a step, my hand moves on instinct. I catch her wrist, pulling her into my chest.

It’s reflexive. Automatic.

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