Page 81 of Almost Home
Not something.Us.Me and Wilder, coming back to where we always should’ve been. Where I never should’ve left.
But if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now. Who knew where we would’ve ended up. That didn’t really matter because we would never know about that version of our story. What we could know was what happened to us now.
I should’ve said I belonged with him. I should’ve said it tonight, no hesitation. At some point, I had to stop waiting for him to prompt me. He needed me to be sure just like I needed him to be. But I was sure—I had no doubts.
If that was true, why did I keep doubting? Was I so conditioned to falter, I couldn’t even trust myself to know what I wanted and express that?
I went to bed promising myself I’d be open with him, not scared to say what I wanted. Not nervous about what was to come even if I didn’t know what came next. My plans to leave herecouldchange. Deviating from the path of leaving when I healed was only a problem if it wasn’t what I wanted.
We had Madeline Reynolds arriving for her stay this week. It’d be insanely busy between her and other things popping up on the schedule. But the next time I had a chance, I would tell Wilder. I wanted him. I belonged with him, and he belonged with me.
CHAPTERFORTY
Wilder
Sheriff Whitaker, the county sheriff and a good man by all accounts, nodded at me as I approached the giant door to Madeline Reynolds’s house.
“She’s inside. Shaken up but won’t admit it. I had to beg her to let me contact law enforcement. I hope you were right about that.”
Anthony chattered nervously as I stepped into the entryway and took in the soaring ceiling. I’d been here before to check out the property, but it impressed every time. A two-story entrance with huge windows letting light and views of the peaks in on one end, and a living room that showcased a view of the sunset in the west. Overall stunning on all sides, even if it seemed insanely big.
My house would have views, too, eventually.
“Has the sheriff seen anything?” I asked, adrenaline still surging in the wake of Anthony’s call an hour ago.
Just as Sarah and I were about to head out to lunch, my cell had rung. A panicked Anthony relayed the situation with surprising clarity considering his near-hysterical tone. Madeline thought she’d seen her stalker at the Silverton airport. Anthony had been spooked enough by her saying something, which he mentioned more than once was atypical and she would never exaggerate, and they’d called me immediately.
I’d told him to call the police, but Madeline initially refused. I’d convinced him to convince her, and here we were. I’d taken a careful drive around the airport, town, and neighborhood. I’d double-checked all of her security feeds and circled around the property a few times just for extra assurances while Sheriff Whitaker took her statement.
Sitting at a gray and white marbled countertop with her gaze attached to her phone, Madeline Reynolds tapped with two fingers. Anthony announced me.
“Wilder Saint’s here.”
She looked up and set her phone down, shoving off the countertop and approaching me with a hand out. “Mr. Saint. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for taking my suggestion about calling the sheriff. I understand not wanting to alert someone to something you thought you saw, but at this point, you all know more than we do. Your instincts, and youruh-oh feeling, can do a lot to protect you. Don’t ignore that.”
I had my own version of exactly that, and it never boded well. But I needed the full rundown of information, and now that they were back and we were all face to face, I’d finally get it.
She nodded. “Working on it.”
“I’ve checked everything, and if he was there, he avoided getting caught on film.”
“He’s a crafty one, I’m telling you.” Brad came into the room chomping on a chicken drumstick and holding a plate piled with food in his other. “We’ll debrief more thoroughly whenever Ms. Reynolds is ready.”
The woman in question ran a hand through her now-brown hair. Last I’d seen her, she’d been blonde.
“Let’s get it over with. I’m sure Mr. Saint has plenty of other things to be doing.” She waved her hands in a gesture I took to mean we should all follow her. Considering her assistant and guard both did, I’d read it right.
“Anthony, can you cancel with the landscaper? We’ll reschedule for next week,” she said over her shoulder, and immediately her assistant was tapping away on his phone. I got the feeling very few moments in Reynolds’s day weren’t productive.
I had other things I’d like to be doing—namely, sitting down to a long lunch with Sarah. But we didn’t have the luxury of that this week anyway, nor was there technically anyone more important in my life than the woman padding across the gleaming hardwood floors of her multi-million-dollar home. She represented about seventy percent of our paying customers and while I fully accepted the need for time to pass before we had everything in place to help people the way I wanted, I didn’t want to give her anything but the best possible security while she was here.
I’d told Sarah I didn’t know how long I’d be gone. She had plans tonight, so if I didn’t make it back by close, I’d have to wait until tomorrow to see her.
Just now, that seemed like a lifetime away. Pathetic considering we’d gone decades, but after even a day of closeness like we’d had yesterday, keeping my hands off her at work had been challenging enough.
For now, I needed to focus on the problem at hand. Having Madeline Reynolds’s stalker track her down before she’d even gotten settled in would not be a good start to her sabbatical, nor would it do anything for Saint Securities’ reputation.
