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  It was hard work but she loved it.

  To compromise, she started bringing projects home so she could at least be there when he left the office. But he complained that her paints and fabrics cluttered the apartment. When she tried to set up the spare room for her sewing, he accused her of taking over his home.

  His home.

  But she couldn’t argue. Corbin was indeed shouldering the entire mortgage. She’d offered to pay her share, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  You just focus on us, baby. I’ll take care of the finances.

  She wasn’t altogether comfortable with the arrangement, but her friends said she was crazy. The house was in his name, therefore his responsibility. And who, after all, wouldn’t want to be taken care of?

  She, for one.

  But to keep the peace she went along, chipping in by doing the cleaning, laundry, and cooking. Occasionally, she’d surprise him with a first-edition book or a small gift she’d picked up during her buying excursions. He always made a fuss over the presents and a big show of putting them in a prominent place in the apartment.

  But he soon started to grumble that her buying trips were interfering with their quality time together, which was ludicrous because he was gone more than she was. When they fought about it, he’d relent, then give her the silent treatment for days on end, like a spoiled child. Eventually, she reduced her scouting expeditions to once a month, which wasn’t nearly enough to keep the store fresh with new merchandise.

  Later, he balked at her working weekends. The shop was busiest on Saturdays and Sundays and she really ought to be there.

  Weekends are for us, babe. I kill myself Monday through Friday just so I can have Saturday and Sunday with you. And what do you do? You run off to that little store of yours.

  Again, she gave in, convincing herself that he was right. If they couldn’t at least carve out two days a week together, how would their relationship ever survive?

  When she’d taken him home to meet her parents and Allison, he’d been distant to the point of rudeness. She confronted him about it and he instantly became defensive.

  They’re the ones who made me feel like an outsider. Your sister is a real cold fish. No wonder she’s still single. The woman is so jealous of you it makes me sick.

  Jealous? She’s not jealous. Al’s had plenty of boyfriends. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  That’s because you’re a kind person and only want to see the good in people. Take it from me, your sister has a lot of resentment for you.

  You’re wrong. Allison’s not only my sister, she’s my best friend.

  No, that’s where you’re wrong, Charlotte. I’m your best friend. No one knows or loves you like I do.

  The notion that Al was jealous of Charlotte was ridiculous, but her dislike of Corbin was palpable. Even Charlotte’s gracious and demonstrative parents were reserved when Corbin was around. Charlotte blamed it on the fact that Corbin was a high-powered attorney and a senator’s son with a sense of entitlement. It wasn’t his fault, it was just the way he was raised. Charlotte wished her family could understand him the way she did.

  But that wasn’t to be. Corbin actually enjoyed antagonizing Al, to the point where Charlotte looked for excuses to duck out of holidays and other family gatherings. She even bagged out on her cousin’s wedding, which Charlotte had been looking forward to because it was in Portland and an opportunity to stay the weekend with her parents.

  This new man in your life seems to demand an awful lot of your time, dear.

  We’ve just got a lot going on, Mom. Between my store and Corbin’s job, we barely have time to breathe.

  Her baby sister was less diplomatic about it.

  I don’t get you, Charlotte. The way you let him push you around…well, it’s gross. He’s gross. Pompous and bossy… abusive. I think he’s intentionally trying to drive a wedge between us. Why are you letting him?

  They fought about it and Allison hung up on her. Charlotte was hurt while Corbin was outraged, accusing Al of trying to break them up.

  She’s so jealous, she’s trying to turn you against me.

  Charlotte shrugged it off. A few days later, Al called her at the store.

  Why aren’t you returning my emails? We need to talk about this, Char. I don’t like the way he treats you.

  What emails? I never got an email from you.

  Corbin probably got into your laptop and deleted them.

  Now you’re being absurd. Corbin would never do any such thing.

  Are you sure? I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. The guy is a total control freak. How can you be so blind when it comes to him? He threw an absolute shit fit the last time we were all together because you wanted to spend the day with me, trawling garage sales. He’s possessive and acts like he owns you. Does he hit you, Charlotte? I think he hits you.

  Of course not. Are you insane? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous, Al.

  Jealous? I’m worried about you is what I am. You’re not the same anymore. You’re always canceling trips to see us, and when Mom and Dad wanted to come to San Francisco to visit, you came up with that bullshit excuse about Corbin’s father coming to town. Why couldn’t they come at the same time? It wasn’t like Mom and Dad would monopolize you. Not like someone else I know.

  When Corbin came home that night Charlotte told him what had happened. His response was to forbid her from talking to her sister ever again.

  Don’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to.

  That was the second time Corbin hit her. This time, he slapped her hard enough to leave a bruise on her right cheek. She ran to the bathroom and locked herself in, only to hear the front door slam. Corbin didn’t come home that night. Charlotte would’ve left the next morning, except a home pregnancy test confirmed her suspicions.

  Charlotte was carrying Corbin’s child.

  She hung on for the sake of the baby. And because she believed Corbin was a good man at heart, a man who simply had anger management problems. But together, they could conquer anything.

  Charlotte now knew that she’d been beyond naïve. An innocent who’d grown up in a gentle home where abusers didn’t masquerade as loving, caring soul mates. As the situation got worse, it became very clear to Charlotte that you can’t change a person, especially a man as deeply insecure and troubled as Corbin Ainsley.

  All she could do was escape him.

  She checked her phone again, got up, and changed into her pajamas. It had been three days since she’d fled San Francisco, and yet bedtime still made her anxious.

  For a second, she considered calling her parents. Her warm, nurturing parents. But it was the first place Corbin would look for her.

  Ultimately, it had been because of her parents’ relationship, sweet and enduring, that she’d refused to marry Corbin. As soon as he’d learned she was pregnant, he’d insisted that they set a date. It was the only time she’d defied him, her last shred of resistance. In return, he’d left her on the floor, battered and bloody.

  Why don’t you just stick a stake through my heart, Charlotte? You know I’ll never let you go. Without you, there’s nothing. I’m nothing. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.

  Him, him, him, until Charlotte was nothing. Oh, she was wrong—she was something, all right. She was Corbin Ainsley’s possession. And the child she carried—his heir—was the prize.

  That’s when she knew she had to leave. She’d only made it three hours away, but with every mile she’d driven, his voice roared over the noise of the freeway.

  I’ll never let you go, Charlotte. I’ll never let you go.

  * * * *

  The ringing of a phone startled Charlotte awake. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table said nine o’clock. She’d slept in again.

  She swung her legs over the bed and swiped her phone o
ff the bench where she’d left it to charge.

  “Meredith?”

  “He reported you missing this morning.”

  “Oh God.” Charlotte pressed her hand against her forehead. “What are we going to do?”

  “Calm down. We knew this would happen.”

  She was right. They’d prepared for the inevitability that Corbin would go to the police. But now that he had, she was panicking. “How do you know for sure?”

  “I have people at SFPD,” Meredith said. “He claims you’re unstable, that you suffer from depression and that he’s worried about the baby.”

  “Oh God,” she repeated.

  “He’ll want to be careful, Charlotte. Getting the police too involved could backfire on him.”

  True, Corbin’s father wouldn’t like the attention. But no way would he let her disappear. “What if we got word to him that I’d miscarried…threaten him with what happened?” In her heart, though, she knew it wouldn’t stop him from coming.

  I’ll never let you go.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone and Charlotte could practically read Meredith’s thoughts. He’ll kill you.

  “He won’t believe you,” she finally said. “And if he does, we both know that abusers need to be in control. He’ll blame the miscarriage on you, turn it into something you did to spite him, and want to punish you for it. That’s the way they work, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed. This was never going to end. “Will the police send my picture out?”

  “We’re trying to keep that from happening. It’s not illegal for an adult to voluntarily disappear. We just have to make sure the right people at SFPD understand that you’re sane and don’t want to be found. We deal with this every day, Charlotte. There are good people in the department, good people who work with us.”

  “Meredith, do you understand how connected he is, who his father is?”

  “I do. It’s just one more hurdle we have to overcome, but it’s not insurmountable.” She paused. “I need you to listen to me, okay? You’ve come this far, don’t get cold feet now.” Meredith waited for Charlotte to respond and when she didn’t, said, “Charlotte, do you hear me?”

  “Yes.” Charlotte sank into the bed again. The smell of bacon wafted under her door and she could hear the sounds of a household waking up. “I’m not getting cold feet.” But she was terrified.

  “Good,” Meredith said. “How much do you trust this sheriff you’re staying with?”

  “I don’t know.” How could she, she barely knew him. “He seems trustworthy, but so did Corbin. Did you find out anything about him?”

  “Only what you know. He’s sheriff of Mill County, a small area of roughly fourteen thousand people wedged between Placer and Nevada Counties.”

  “And he’s a father of two young boys,” Charlotte added, because based on the way Jace was with his sons, she had to believe he was a good man. “Why?”

  Meredith exhaled. “Because I need you to stay there a little while longer. Just until we see where we are with SFPD and I can find you a new gig and a temporary place to live. Unfortunately, you keep blowing opportunities on that front.”

  Charlotte knew Meredith hadn’t meant to sound harsh or unsympathetic. Meredith moved heaven and earth to keep women safe from their abusers, a job that took more fortitude than it did bedside manners. Charlotte got that and thanked the lord she had Meredith on her side. But what she wanted seemed too much to ask. It also defied logic, given that she’d been reported to the police as an unhinged, missing pregnant woman.

  “I can’t keep imposing on him,” Charlotte said. “Besides, wouldn’t he have access to the missing person’s report? Aren’t these things shared statewide?”

  “Not necessarily, and when they are, they go into a huge database, not on the back of a milk carton. And yours won’t even make it into the database if we can discreetly let SFPD know that you’re not a missing person and you’re no longer carrying Corbin’s child. You’re going to have to work with me here, Charlotte. For the moment, it’s better for you to stay put until we get this sorted out.”

  “All right.” She knew Meredith was only trying to help, even though asking for what amounted to charity didn’t feel right to Charlotte.

  “I’ll suss out the situation with SFPD and send you an update as soon as I can. I only wish we had someone in your sheriff’s department who worked with our network. But we don’t.” Meredith hung up in that brusque way of hers.

  Charlotte continued to sit at the edge of the bed. How the hell had she gotten here? She’d never considered herself a weak woman, a woman susceptible to an abusive partner. Before Corbin she’d never been mistreated, had never suffered from low self-esteem or exhibited any of the other textbook risk factors.

  Yet here she was, running.

  In the distance, a television went on and Charlotte heard clinking sounds coming from the kitchen. She quickly showered and dressed and made her way to the kitchen, where she found Jace and his sons eating breakfast.

  “Morning.” Jace got up and placed another setting on the table. “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.” The kitchen smelled heavenly, like comfort food.

  The oven dinged and Jace pulled out a sheet of biscuits that had baked to a golden brown.

  “You made those?” she asked, surprised.

  He held up a Pillsbury can. “Me and the doughboy.”

  She smiled. Without even trying, the sheriff could charm. So could Corbin, she reminded herself. Like a snake-oil salesman.

  “Sit by me, Mrs. Rogers.” Grady waved her over with his cast and pushed out a chair for her with his foot.

  “How’s the arm?” she asked.

  “Itchy but good.”

  Jace put a basket of the biscuits on the table and began frying up a new package of bacon. “You want eggs?”

  “I’ll make it.” She got up and took over.

  He pushed a mug and a container of milk in front of her. She fixed her coffee to taste and sipped, appreciating the jolt of caffeine, despite another night of sound sleep. The ranch was restful. More restful than she was used to.

  “You don’t work on weekends?” She had no idea what a country sheriff’s schedule was like. But she wanted to ask him about staying longer, when the boys weren’t around. If he said no, she’d have to come up with something else. Whatever that was.

  “I’m mostly on call, unless there’s something big going on. Then I go in. You taking off for Colorado soon?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that.” She nudged her head at Travis and Grady, who were in deep conversation about who could eat the most biscuits. “Should we wait until after breakfast?”

  He raised his brows in question. “Okay.”

  “Does anyone else want eggs?” she asked, averting eye contact with him.

  “The boys already ate.” Jace plucked strips of bacon from the fry pan and drained them on a napkin-covered plate.

  “That isn’t all for me is it?”

  Jace shrugged. “It won’t go to waste.”

  He was in jeans today. They were more faded and worn than the pair from the other day. And his shirt was a blue, long-sleeved pullover that matched his eyes and stretched across his chest, emphasizing his build.

  A man that size—that strong—should have made her nervous. Yet, he didn’t scare her at all.

  They sat at the table and she ate while Grady gave a detailed story about a boy at school who ate bugs. Ants. Flies. Even stinkbugs. Charlotte had no idea what a stinkbug was, but got the general gist that it wasn’t something you’d want to eat, based on Travis’s gagging noises.

  “Hey”—Jace put a firm hand on Grady’s shoulder—“how ʼbout we not talk about this while Mrs. Rogers is eating?”

  The conversation hadn’t affected her appetite in the leas
t. For the first time in months, she was starved. Even pregnant, she’d mostly eaten to nourish her baby. “I ate crickets once.”

  Both boys swiveled around in their chairs with eyes big as saucers.

  “You did?” Grady looked absolutely delighted by this revelation. “Did you like it?”

  “Uh, I didn’t dislike it. For the most part I remember it being crunchy and salty.”

  “Why’d you eat it?” Travis asked. “Was it like a dare?”

  “Nope. I was in Thailand on a buying trip for my store. It’s pretty common snack food there. They eat fried crickets like we eat potato chips.” It was one of the best trips she’d ever been on. Just her and her sister, Allison, exploring the beauty of Southeast Asia.

  Allison. Oh, how she missed her sister.

  “Seriously?” Travis seemed truly impressed. “Can you buy them on the internet?”

  “I’m sure you can,” she said.

  “How long ago did you go to Thailand?” Jace asked.

  “Two years ago.” Her shop had just been chosen by San Francisco Magazine as the best home goods store in the Bay Area.

  “Two years ago? Didn’t you say you sold it ten years ago?”

  She blanched, instantly realizing her mistake. “I sold that store, this was a different one.” Of course he’d see right through the lie, but she’d boxed herself in.

  He had the decency to let it go. That was the thing about Jace, he appeared to be quite decent. And here she was taking advantage, lying to a man who only seemed to want to help her. But the rules were the rules: no social media, no contact with her family, no confiding in anyone.

  Even cops.

  She finished eating breakfast and cleared the dishes, hiding behind the busywork from Jace’s watchful gaze. But then the boys ran off and it was just them, alone.

  “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

  Asking for things, for favors, and especially help, had never been easy for her. Charlotte had always thought of herself as an independent woman who would rather work out life’s trials on her own. That’s why she still didn’t understand how she’d let Corbin in so deep that he’d succeeded in completely controlling her. With his constant belittling, her courage had taken a hit and now she was forced by her awful circumstances to beg a near-stranger to let her hide in his home for another day or so. And she had nothing to give in return other than money. But he’d rejected it the first time she’d offered to pay for a room.