by Nicole Helm
Gage studied his twin. “Thank you,” he said, letting the words have the weight they deserved. Brady opened his mouth, and Gage had no doubt it was to argue. He shook his head. “You were there. It means something. Thank you.”
“Fine. You’re welcome. Now leave me alone.”
Gage nodded, headed back to the door. He stopped there, knowing exactly what Brady needed. “Oh, by the way, Felicity notified the cavalry, so expect some visitors.”
Brady swore and Gage laughed. It felt good to laugh, though it died when he reached the waiting room and Cecilia was standing there with Felicity.
She was still wearing her tribal police uniform. When she saw him, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, like she was ready for a fight.
“I came to—” she made a face like she was forced to swallow something bitter “—apologize.”
“Don’t.”
Cecilia frowned, looking at Felicity. “That’s what she said, too.”
Gage smiled at Felicity. It was good to be on the same page, to understand without discussing. He turned back to Cecilia. “If you thought she’d be in danger, if either of you thought that, I know it would have been different. We all know if she hadn’t told you, and you hadn’t told us right away things weren’t right, everything would be different.” He swallowed at the horror that tried to get through, but it hadn’t happened. “We can’t change anything. We just have to... Look, this takes away the charges against Ace. And...”
Felicity slipped her hand into his. “It just means we have to look out for each other. Together. And we agree no more trying to do things on our own. Not when it comes to Ace.”
Cecilia didn’t say anything to that.
“You want to go in and see him?” Gage asked, nodding back toward the door he’d just come out of.
“Uh. Well. I mean, I guess,” Cecilia replied, looking uncharacteristically unsure.
“I’m going to take this one home. She needs some rest.”
Cecilia nodded. “You both do.”
Gage gave Felicity’s hand a squeeze and they headed for the exit. Felicity looked back at Cecilia, who was straightening her shoulders again, all soldier ready to go into battle.
“What?” Gage asked.
“I don’t know.” She tilted her face toward him and smiled. “Just...should be interesting.”
“What should be interesting?”
She laughed as they walked out of the hospital, into daylight and freedom and hope. “You’ll see.”
Epilogue
Trials weren’t fun, even when you won. It had been grueling days of testimony—including Felicity’s own and Gage’s. On the stand she’d had to relive shooting Ace, and she wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.
Especially with what else was twisting inside of her, uncertain and scary and huge.
But it was over now, Ace guilty of too many charges to count and being moved to a higher security prison much farther away.
It was relief, even if it wasn’t full closure. They walked out of the courthouse, a group of four Wyatt boys and three Knight foster girls who’d survived Ace’s influence. Out into a sunny day that felt completely right.
Gage’s hand slid over hers. Her stomach jittered with new nerves, because now that the trial was over she couldn’t ignore her suspicions. And she could hardly not tell him.
Still, she smiled easily and exchanged hugs and goodbyes with her sisters. They shared something now, and even without that, Felicity had come to understand some things about growing up the way they had that made it easy to forgive Liza and Nina their choices to leave. And embrace their decisions to come back.
Gage said his goodbyes and gave Brady a gentle hug. He’d had a setback with his gunshot wound, an infection, that had left him on desk duty for way longer than any Wyatt should have to endure.
Still, she liked to think the trial’s outcome had taken a bit of a weight off his irritation.
She and Gage went to Gage’s truck and slid in. He would drive her home, and spend the night in her cabin, but he’d be gone before she woke up—to get back to Valiant County and his job.
Her stomach jittered more. Things would have to be different. She hadn’t figured out a way that would make them both happy.
“Nothing quite like testifying together, right?”
She forced a smile. “Better than doing it alone, I think.”
“You think right,” Gage said, patting her knee as he pulled out onto the highway.
Gage chattered the whole way home, and though Felicity tried to keep up, she was caught in her own loop of thoughts and worries and what she had to do.
Gage pulled to a stop in front of her cabin and she quickly slid out, afraid if they dawdled she’d blurt it out.
It needed more finesse, and she should be sure.
But Gage was right behind her, his arm around her waist as she walked up to the door. “All right. What’s up, Red? Something’s freaking you out, and it’s not the trial. Tucker himself is going to oversee the jail transport. Ace won’t—”
“I think I’m pregnant.” She closed her eyes as the words fell out. Flopped there in between them as they stood awkwardly on her front stoop.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. And she just stood there with her eyes squeezed shut, not having a clue what to do.
She’d tried to plan it out, tried to know what else to say and how to handle his reaction, but she always reached this point and then shut down. She could only wait, eyes closed and panic keeping her frozen.
“I guess it’s a good thing I applied for the opening at Rapid City.”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
“Rapid City is hiring. I was tired of being that far, and you could hardly leave your dream job.”
“But you work with your brothers, and now...”
“And now, God willing, I’ll get the position, and we’ll be in the same county and...and...” He inhaled sharply. “You sure?”
“No.” She shook her head a little too emphatically. “I bought a test, but I didn’t want to take it until the trial was over. I should have taken it first. I just had to tell you.”
“Well, hell, go take it,” he said, all but pushing her toward the door.
She nodded. Her keys shook in her hands, but she finally opened door and went into the bathroom to take the test. She went through the motions, set the timer on her phone and then let Gage into the bathroom.
“We have to wait three minutes.”
“Okay.” He swallowed, looking down at her, but the concern and worry in his expression slowly changed into something else. Then he pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, calming kiss. “I love you, Felicity.”
“I know, but before we know for sure, I don’t want you to feel like... Duke isn’t going to hold a shotgun on you. I mean, he might, but you don’t have to marry—”
“I applied for that job for a reason, Felicity. Yeah, to be closer, but because I wanted to start getting things situated for the future. And maybe I was waiting for a little kick in the butt—but here it is. I was getting there before this.”
“This is faster.”
“Yeah. But I think we can do it.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I know we can do it. And so do you.”
The timer on her phone went off and they both jumped.
“Okay.” She did know they could do it, but it helped to hear. Helped to be steadied by someone else. She took a deep breath and looked at the test sitting there.
“Translate for me,” Gage said, his voice a bit strangled. “What does two lines mean?”
“Pregnant,” Felicity said, staring at the results window, where there were two lines clear as day.
“Pregnant,” he repeated. Then he laughed and lifted her clear up off the floor, still laughing. Happy.
“You’re happy,” she murmured, because he was a constant marvel. She knew they were good together, knew he’d want to do the right thing, but she wasn’t sure he’d jump right to happy.
“Yeah, hell of a thing, but yeah.” He put her back down on her own feet. “Are you happy?”
Since her throat was clogged with tears, she could only nod and rest her forehead on his chest. Happy didn’t seem a big enough word. But there was reality, too.
“He might get out some day. That trial wasn’t the end. God knows he’ll appeal. Ace touching our lives isn’t over.”
“Maybe not,” Gage agreed.
It was scary, especially with this new life growing inside of her, but he was holding her. They were in this together. She lifted her head and looked up at him. “But we’ll have even more to fight for, right?” She put her hand over her stomach. It was impossible to believe something was there—a life. Impossible to fully grasp, and yet true.
And right. So right.
“We have everything to fight for,” Gage agreed, sliding his own hand over hers. “And we already have, so we know we can again.” He pulled her close, tucked her hair behind her ears. “So, you going to marry me? Before the baby, just in case Duke gets any ideas about making me disappear.”
She tried to say yes, but her throat was too tight with tears. And hope. And joy. So, she nodded, and he kissed her until she thought her knees might dissolve.
“It’s going to be a good life,” he said, a promise and a vow.
“Yeah, yeah, it is.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Hunting Season by Janice Kay Johnson.
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The Hunting Season
by Janice Kay Johnson
Chapter One
Lindsay Engle set down the phone very carefully. If she’d given into her emotions, she’d have slammed it into the cradle and potentially shattered it.
The balding man who’d been chatting with another caseworker made his way between desks until he reached hers. Glenn Wilson, mentor and friend—and well able to read her, even when she was stone-faced. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
Quiet had stolen over the room, she realized. Glancing around, she saw that her coworkers’ heads had all turned, too. She’d have sworn she hadn’t raised her voice.
“I removed a boy from his home two weeks ago.”
Nods all around; too often, as employees of Oregon State Child Protective Services, they had no choice.
“I placed him with his uncle, who sounded disgusted with his brother. Shane liked his uncle.” Her jaw clenched so hard she wasn’t sure she’d be able to relax it enough to say another word.
Glenn laid a hand on her shoulder. “Is the boy badly injured?” he asked, voice gruff but also gentle.
Lindsay shook her head, swallowed and said, “No, thank heavens. He collapsed trying to get on the school bus. The driver called 9-1-1, and Shane was transported to the hospital. That was the ER doc calling. Shane managed to tell them that his uncle Martin hurt him.” More like beat him to within an inch of his life, from the sound of it.
She opened a desk drawer and took out her handbag. “I need to get to the hospital.”
Ashley Sheldon, who sat behind the next desk, murmured, “That poor kid.”
“Apparently, brutality runs in the family,” Lindsay said bitterly.
“The cops arrest the creep?” Glenn asked.
“He’s conveniently not home. I don’t know whether he realized he’d gone too far, or whether he thought Shane would make an excuse and he’d skate.”
“He fell down the stairs,” suggested Matt Grudin, tone acid.
“Had a dirt bike accident,” Ray Hammond, another coworker, added.
Dark humor was common in their profession, but all Lindsay could summon was a pathetic smile before she said, “I’m off.”
As she walked away, behind her Glenn growled, “There’s a reason I took early retirement.”
She fully understood. Social workers, especially those on the front lines, burned out all too fast. Maybe she was getting to the point where she should do something else for a living. Something one step removed from children with purple bruises, black eyes and teeth knocked out by a fist, or girls who carried terrible secrets. How Glenn had stood it all those years, she couldn’t imagine. She admired him and was grateful that since his retirement he still stopped by the office regularly to say hi and lend his support to anyone who was especially frustrated or down.
At the small community hospital, she went straight to the emergency room, where she was allowed in Shane’s cubicle. As many times as she’d seen battered children and teenagers, she never got over the shock. His face was so swollen and discolored, she wouldn’t have been able to recognize him as the boy who, despite his wariness, was still capable of offering an irresistibly merry smile.
Maybe she should say, had been capable.
The one eye he could open fastened on her. “Ms. Engle?”
At least, that’s what she thought he’d said.
“Shane.” At his bedside, she reached for his hand, but pulled hers back when she saw that his was heavily wrapped. “I’m so sorry. I never dreamed—”
“My fault,” he mumbled through misshapen lips. “I thought—” He, too, broke off, but she had no trouble finishing the sentence. Shane had believed his uncle was a good guy.
“Can you tell me what happened? In ten words or less?”
The fourteen-year-old, tall for his age but skinny, tried to smile, then groaned.
Seized by guilt, Lindsay exclaimed, “I’m sorry! Forget it! We can wait until you don’t hurt so much.”
He gave his head the tiniest of shakes. “S’posed to clean the kitchen last night, and I didn’t. He dragged me out of bed and...” He made an abortive gesture. “You know.”
“I gather you talked to a police officer.”
“Kinda.”
“Okay. Did you have the MRI?”
She thought that was a nod.
“Has the doctor talked to you yet?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Oh. Okay.” She smoothed sandy blond, shaggy hair back from Shane’s battered face. “You know this isn’t your fault.”
His face twisted slightly and one shoulder jerked in a shrug she had no trouble interpreting. Did Shane even believe the cruelty he’d lived through from his father was anything but normal? As with most abused children, he wouldn’t have talked about it to his friends. For all he knew, the same crap might be going on behind closed doors in their homes. Now, having the uncle Shane had liked and trusted react so violently to his minor offense had to make him think men were always this violent...or else there was something about him that caused both his father and uncle to lose it.
Neither interpretation was healthy.
The original call regarding Shane had been referred to another caseworker, Emmett Harper. Emmett had thought Shane would respond better to a woman and transferred his case to Lindsay. Whether Emmett was right or not, Lindsay had never had any trouble with the boy, and thought he trusted her as much as he could trust anyone.
She hated that his ability to trust had taken another blow.
Lindsay hid a wince. Bad pun.
“I say it’s not your fault,” she told him, but saw his disbelief.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, she’d talked to the doctor, a gray-haired, reassuring man who said Shane had suffered a concussion, two broken ribs, a broken cheekbone, three broken fingers, probably from blocking a punch, and a great deal of soft tissu
e damage. Nothing permanent, but he’d be in significant pain for weeks to months as the broken bones healed.
Shane was admitted for the night because of the head injuries, which gave Lindsay almost twenty-four hours to find him a new placement.
She also talked to the Sadler police officer who had responded to the call from the bus driver and who had driven to Martin Ramsey’s house on the outskirts of town. They used a small room off the ER to talk.
“Shane says, after his uncle beat the crap out of him, he told him to take a shower and get ready for school. Sent the kid out the door to catch the bus.”
“Did he really think nobody would notice Shane’s face?” Lindsay said incredulously.
Middle-aged and seemingly steady, Officer Joe Capek shook his head. “If he did, he’s delusional.”
“Do you think he took off?”
Sounding doubtful, he said, “If he’d been afraid of trouble with authorities, he could have kept the kid home from school for a few days. Threatened Shane with what would happen if he told anyone.”
Lindsay thought the same. “When do you plan to go back to the house?”
“I gather he works as a handyman?”
“More like he does remodels, but yes, he said he takes small jobs, too.”
Capek shrugged. “Figured I’d try five thirty, before my shift ends.”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Is that smart?” he asked.
“I want to look him in the eye when you cuff him,” she said grimly.
His mouth twitched into an almost smile. “Let’s meet there, then.”
By the time Lindsay drove to the old farmhouse on the outskirts of Sadler, a headache had begun climbing the back of her neck. She could feel the pitons being pounded in.
Unfortunately, Martin Ramsey did not appear to be home. As Officer Capek circled the house to knock on the back door, Lindsay peered into a dusty, small-paned window on the side of the outbuilding that appeared to serve as a garage. She spotted a lawn mower and a flatbed trailer, but no car or pickup truck.