Page 16 of Huck Frasier

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She exhaled, broken.

“I just found you again.”

And in that moment…

I wanted to stay.

More than anything.

But someone needed help. And I was still the man who showed up when the call came in.

Even if it hurt like hell.

I stepped close, cupped her face, kissed her slow—like goodbye.

“I’ll come back,” I whispered.

“You better.”

11

Marley

Day one without Frasier: I made it to noon before checking my phone twenty-three times for a message that wasn’t coming.

Day two: I baked banana bread. I don’tbake. The loaf came out shaped like a tire iron and tasted like self-loathing.

Day three: I found trouble.

It came in the form of a story—whispers of illegal real estate grabs, small families losing land near the edge of town, quiet payoffs. Nothing flashy. Nothing cartel-level. But dirty all the same.

So I followed it.

I told Lark I was “helping a neighbor.”

I told myself I was “just keeping busy.”

But I wasn’t.

I was distracting myself from the fact that the man I loved had walked into danger…

And I hadn’t stopped him.

I knewI’d messed up when the back door of the shady little office I’d been tailingslammed shut behind me.

Two men.

One with a clipboard, the other with a crowbar.

I had my phone. I had my brain. I didnothave Frasier.

And suddenly that felt like the stupidest thing in the world.

They didn’t lay a hand on me—just gave me a “friendly warning” about sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.

But I left shaking.

And furious.

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