Page 53 of All the Missing Pieces

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t need your help with Ridley.”

Mira’s eyes danced with amusement. “Sure looks like you do from where I’m standing.”

“Damn straight,” Sam echoed. “That’s a good woman you sent running out the door. Now you need to go make it right.”

My back teeth ground together. I knew he was right. I just didn’t have the first clue how to get Ridley to forgive me, not this time. “I gotta go,” I muttered, heading for the door.

“Chicken!” Sam called after me.

“Now don’t use that word as an insult; it’s not fair to our feathered friends,” Celia scolded.

God help me, this town was going to kill me.

I pulled up to my familiar childhood home, now painted that sunny yellow my sister loved. I stared at it for a long moment before finally shutting off the engine and climbing out of my SUV. I didn’t know why I’d found my way here instead of the office, where I should be, but I headed up the front steps anyway.

Before I could lift my hand to knock, the door was opening and Emerson was greeting me with a scowl.

I sighed. “Who told you?”

She let out a huff, her exasperation clear. “Celia called. What were you thinking, Colt? Accusing Ridley of assault?”

I winced. I guessed word really had made the rounds and not just the bits and pieces. Bear broke away from Em and made his way over to me in solidarity, leaning against me for some pets. “I fucked up,” I admitted.

“No kidding,” Emerson said, waving me in and back toward the kitchen as her two smaller dogs barked in the backyard. She moved to the fridge, pulling out some lemonade and pouring two tall glasses. “Sit.”

“Why do I feel like I just got sent to the principal’s office?”

“Because you did.” Emerson set the glass in front of me with a thump against the worn wood. “What is going on with you?”

I stared at my sister as she sat. In moments like this one, she seemed like any other twenty-six-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. Normal. But I still saw the moments her hands shook when she stepped outside or how a panic attack could grab hold when a memory triggered her. Emerson’s life had been stolen from her in so many ways. And that had messed with my head more than I wanted to admit.

I forced my gaze down to the lemonade, sunshine in a glass, so different from the storm clouds I felt brewing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I finally admitted.

Emerson let out a long breath. “What happened to me isn’t on your shoulders.”

“I know that,” I lied.

“And neither is it single-handedly your responsibility to find out who did it.”

My jaw worked back and forth. “I know that too.”

“You’re such a shit liar.”

I grimaced. “It could’ve been her, Shortcake. She could’ve been the one who broke in, who hurt Dawson.”

Emerson was quiet for a long moment. “It would be easier if it was her. I get that much.”

My gaze lifted to Em’s. “You haven’t seen how determined she is. I just—I know that sort of single-minded focus can turn. I thought it might’ve.”

“As determined as Ridley is, I don’t see her breaking into a police station, let alone assaulting an officer.” Emerson paused for a moment, really taking me in. And the focus had me fighting not to squirm. “She’s trying to help, Colt.”

“I know that,” I ground out, the guilt only settling in further.

“So let her. Maybe offer some help, some information. I know you’ve got files upon files on my case.”

I didn’t miss the slight tremor in Em’s hand as she reached for her glass. Bear instantly moved to put his head in her lap. This was just another example of why I didn’t want Ridley digging—the ramifications it had.

“Colt,” Emerson whispered, drawing my gaze back to her face. “I can handle this. Trust me to know what I can do and what I can’t.”

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