Page 23 of Huck Frasier
“You ever think about her?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Lark’s jaw tensed. “Only when I’m hoping she’s not living in the same town as my future children.”
“That’s cold.”
“That’s reality,” she said, quieter this time. “I used to drive by the house, after college. Just in case she came back. But she never did.”
“Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I don’t know. But I do know she didn’t deserve to break us the way she did.”
I looked down at my coffee. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m like her.”
Lark leaned forward. “You’re not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. Because you ran to protect yourself, Marley, she ran to disappear. You know how she was. I always think Dad’s last thoughts were how sorry he was that he was dying and leaving us with her.”
That sat deep in my chest, warm and uncomfortable.
I hesitated, then spoke. “I got a message yesterday. A contact from my last mission in Tucson. Says something’s going on—kids disappearing near the border. Rumors of a ring getting bolder. He wants me to come back.”
Lark’s eyes sharpened. “You’re not seriously considering going alone?”
“I have to. If I don’t… who will?”
“You’ve got Frasier now.”
“I know. That’s why I’m scared.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me with that big-sister look that always made me feel five years old and reckless. She was thirty minutes younger than I was, but she has always tried to be bossy.
“Don’t be a martyr,” she finally said. “But if you go—you better come back.”
“I will,” I said it like a vow.
But even as the words left my mouth, I felt that old tug again.
The pull to run.
The need to prove I could still stand alone.
And this time, it wasn’t just about fear.
It was about doing the right thing.
Even if it meant risking everything I’d just started to build. I had to save those children.
17
Frasier
She was still asleep when I left.
One arm curled under her cheek, hair tangled across the pillow, wearing nothing but my shirt and the promise she wasn’t going to run again.
But I wasn’t taking any more chances.
