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“He helped me change a flat tire. I was just returning the favor.”

“By giving a ride to an ex-con you knew nothing about? With your son in the car?”

The accusation stung, mostly because it was justified. “Oliver was fine. The guy was... he was harmless.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I’ve got good instincts about these things.” She knew how it sounded even as she said it—naive, foolish. But she couldn’t explain the immediate sense of recognition she’d felt looking at Jax, that bone-deep certainty that he wasn’t a threat to her.

Brandt’s sigh crackled through the phone. “The same instincts that had you married to Aleksandr Sarkisian by nineteen?”

That was a low blow, even for Brandt. “Don’t.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Ness. But you need to be realistic. You’ve worked too hard to build this life. Don’t risk it on some stranger with a sob story.”

“He didn’t have a sob story. He barely spoke.”

“Even worse. You don’t know anything about him.”

She pushed away from the counter and paced the length of her small kitchen. “His name is Jaxon Thorne. He’s ex-military. Navy SEAL, I think. He got out of prison recently, and he’s at Valor Ridge as part of his parole.”

“And you know what he was in for?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“But you’re convinced he’s innocent of this murder.”

“Yes.”

“Based on what evidence?”

“Based on the fact that he was walking toward the scene when I found him,” she snapped.

“Based on the fact that if he’d just killed someone, he would’ve been covered in blood, not stopping to help a woman with a flat tire.

Based on the fact that he was gentle with my son and didn’t want anything from me after he helped me.

And, not to mention, he’d only arrived at the ranch less than six hours before it happened.

How could he have had time to meet Bailee and kill her? ”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with judgment.

“You sound invested,” Brandt finally said, carefully neutral.

“I’m not—” She stopped herself. “It’s not like that. I just... I know what it’s like to have no one in your corner.”

“Vanessa.” His voice softened slightly. “I’m in your corner.”

“I know. Now. But I didn’t always have someone.”

“I understand the impulse to help. But your priority has to be Oliver and your own safety. Let the local authorities handle this.”

“The local authorities are determined to pin it on him.”

“That’s not your problem.”

But it was, wasn’t it? She’d made it her problem the moment she’d mentioned Jax to Sheriff Goodwin. She’d put him in the crosshairs, and now she couldn’t just walk away.

“I’m worried,” she admitted. “He said something this morning that made me think he might... I don’t know. Do something stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Like run. Or...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the other possibility that had been nagging at her. That maybe he’d just give up, let them pin the murder on him because he already believed he deserved to be punished.

Brandt was quiet for a moment. “What did he say exactly?”

“That he wouldn’t be around long enough for Oliver to make him another muffin.”

Another pause. “I’ll look into him.”

Relief washed through her. “You will?”

“Not for him. For you. Because I need you focused on staying safe, not playing amateur detective.” His voice took on that authoritative edge she remembered from their first meetings.

“In the meantime, stay away from Valor Ridge. Stay away from Thorne. And for God’s sake, don’t antagonize the local sheriff. ”

“Too late for that last one.”

“Vanessa.”

“I know, I know.” She rubbed her temple where a headache was forming. “But what if Goodwin starts digging into my background? What if he finds out who I really am?”

“He won’t.” Brandt’s confidence was absolute. “Your cover is solid. We made sure of that.”

She wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. But doubt had taken root, and now she couldn’t shake it.

“I’ll call you when I have something on Thorne,” Brandt said. “Until then, keep your head down. And Ness? No more picking up strays. I mean it.”

The line went dead before she could respond.

Nessie set the phone down and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes until she saw stars. Brandt was right. She needed to focus on protecting Oliver and the life they’d built here. Getting involved with Jax and his problems was dangerous, stupid, and completely out of character for her.

And yet...

She remembered Jax’s face when she’d told him she believed he was innocent. The flash of surprise, quickly hidden. Like no one had believed in him for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like.

Her phone chirped with a text message. Mariah, sending a photo of Oliver and Tate building a blanket fort in her living room. Both boys grinned at the camera, their faces smeared with what looked like chocolate ice cream.

Having a blast! Still ok if we keep him until 3?

Nessie smiled despite herself and texted back.

Absolutely. Thank you.

She set the phone down and went back to the window, peeking through the slats in the blinds. The street below was all normal. Quiet. Safe.

For now.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change.