Page 23 of Rush Turner
The front door swung open before I could knock. Jessa stood there, barefoot, pale, her phone clenched so tight her knuckles were white.
“Hey,” I said, voice low, steady — the way you talk to a spooked horse. Or a woman holding back a tidal wave. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just stepped back to let me in. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes flicking past me to make sure the kids were still outside.
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Backyard. They’re fine. Rush…” She sucked in a breath so sharp it hurt to hear. Then she handed me the phone.
I read the message once. Then again, slower. My hand fisted around the phone before I caught myself.
“When did this come in?” My voice was calm, but my pulse wasn’t.
“Half an hour ago.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself tight. “I haven’t told Aunt Marie. Or the kids. I didn’t—” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t want to scare them until I knew what to do.”
“You did the right thing calling me first.”
I set the phone on the counter, moved closer until she had no choice but to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, angry, and scared all at once. I knew that feeling. I’d seen it on faces in worse places than this kitchen.
“He’s not gonna touch you, Jessa. Or those kids. I promise you that.”
She tried to shake her head, to put distance between us with words. “Rush, don’t say stuff you can’t guarantee. Kyle’s—he’s not like normal trouble. He gets in your head, he twists everything—I have to keep Joanie safe.”
“Jessa.” I caught her chin, forcing her to focus on me, not the stalker who stalked Joanie. “Let me handle him.”
A bitter laugh slipped out of her mouth. “Handle him? You gonna wrestle him like you do the goats?”
A grin tugged at my mouth despite the storm in my chest. “If he’s dumb enough to show up here, yeah. I’ll drag his ass to the pen and have all of those goats head buting him. Let him see what real trouble looks like.”
She huffed a laugh that turned into a sob. She pressed her face into my chest, the fight draining out of her all at once.
I held her there. Not mushy. Not soft. Solid. Unmovable.
“Hey. Look at me.”
She tipped her head up. God, those eyes.
“You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. I mean it.”
She stared at me for a heartbeat. Then her expression shifted—fear melting into something sharper. Hotter.
“You know what I need right now?” she whispered, fingers curling in my shirt.
I knew exactly what she needed.
Tonight, sweetheart, we’ll be together.
18
Willa
Iwasn’t supposed to be out here. Technically, I was on my way back from dropping off fresh eggs for Aunt Marie when I spotted him.
A black SUV was parked just down the lane where the trees hang low enough to hide trouble.
I knew every vehicle in this town. I didnotknow that one.
And the man leaning on the hood, half-shadowed under the branches, watching Jessa’s farmhouse like he owned the dirt under his boots?
