Page 28

“I want to take you somewhere. You up for a short hike?”

Callum studied Sloane from across the breakfast table as he said the words. She stopped with her cereal spoon midway up to her mouth.

“Like…thirty miles across Moldova short? Otherwise, I’m not sure it’s worth my time.”

Callum grinned. “Not quite that long, but I’d like to show you something. If we hurry, we can beat the storm coming in.”

Despite her lightheartedness this morning, he knew something was on her mind. She’d been up multiple times during the night and anxious even when she was sleeping. For the past couple of days, she’d constantly looked like she needed to say or do something but didn’t know how.

Maybe this hike would help. Plus, he had some things he wanted to say too.

They were out the door a few minutes later. Sloane wore a pair of sneakers she’d bought with her second day’s worth of tips, the kind that spoke of someone who appreciated practicality over flash.

Where he was taking them wasn’t far, which was good since a storm was headed their way. They walked in silence for a while, their footsteps crunching over the dew-covered grass. Callum glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way she seemed to take in every detail of their surroundings—the way the leaves trembled in the light breeze, the faint hum of insects stirring to life.

Everything always seemed so new and interesting to Sloane. It made Callum look at things through new eyes also.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“You’ll see.” His voice was steady, though his chest felt tight. “There’s something I want to show you.”

She didn’t press further, and they continued walking until the soft rush of water reached their ears. The trees parted, revealing a small waterfall cascading into a clear pool. Callum wished she could see this place when the sun lit it in golden hues rather than the grays from the incoming rain. But he stepped forward, gesturing to the edge of the water where a neat stack of smooth stones rested.

Sloane followed his gaze, her brows knitting together. “What is this?”

“This is Amelia’s grave. Or, that’s what I call it.” His voice was quiet. This was a reverent place to him. He turned to Sloane, his hands slipping into his pockets. “She’s actually buried in her family’s plot in Virginia. But I needed a place closer where I could come when I needed to talk to her. Or just…think.”

Sloane’s gaze lingered on the stones, her expression unreadable. “Because you still love her.”

It wasn’t a question, and Callum didn’t treat it like one.

“I’ll always love Amelia.”

He saw pain float over Sloane’s features before she hid it, so he continued quickly. This was what he’d come here to say. What he’d realized over the past few days.

“But I’m not… in love with her anymore. It took me a long time to get here, but I know now that holding on to Amelia like that—it wasn’t fair to her memory. Or to me.”

For years, he’d been using Amelia as an excuse not to let any woman— any person at all —get too close. But Sloane and her quiet strength had slipped under his defenses without his even realizing it.

Sloane continued to stare at the stack of the memorial stones, rubbing the heel of her palm against her chest. “I’m not like Amelia at all, I don’t think. From everything you’ve told me about her, she was confident and witty. She lit up every room she walked into. Tall and blonde and beautiful. I’m not like that. I’m…quiet. Plain .”

“Plain?” Callum’s voice sharpened. He reached out, gently tipping her chin up so she had to look at him. “Woman, you’re anything but plain. You’re striking. Breathtaking. And my not being able to keep my hands off you for more than five minutes over the past week should be proof of that.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“And no, you’re not as boisterous as Amelia was, but that doesn’t mean you don’t light up a room when you enter. It’s just in a different way. Amelia’s light was unavoidable but sometimes jarring. Your light is soft and inclusive and offers a comforting glow to everyone it touches.”

“I’ll still never be as much as her.” Sloane shook her head. “In all the ways. Personality or even physically. She was so tall and statuesque. I’m short.”

He ran his hands down to her shoulders, unable to stop the smile pulling at his lips. “Let me tell you a secret. Amelia would’ve been jealous of your height.”

“ What ? Why? I’m, like, five foot two.”

“She used to be self-conscious because she was so tall. She was five-nine and towered over almost everyone. When she wore heels, she was taller than me. She would’ve been envious of your petiteness. She would’ve admired your delicate features.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent. And more than that, she would’ve liked you, angel. As a person.”

Sloane’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching. “You think so?”

His eyes softened. “I know she would’ve. Amelia would’ve loved your strength. Your courage. The way you find beauty in the world, even after everything you’ve been through. And she would’ve admired the way you care about people. The way you care about me.”

He paused, his voice growing quieter. “She would’ve seen what I see. What I can’t seem to stay away from, no matter how much I’ve tried. I know I’m too old for you, too gruff. You deserve someone younger. Someone who can give you the kind of life you’ve always dreamed of.”

To his surprise, Sloane let out a choked laugh, tears spilling over. “You think I want someone younger? Callum, I don’t care about that. You make me feel safe. You make me feel seen .”

He wrapped his arms around her to pull her against him, but she resisted, stepping back. “And that’s why I need to tell you something. Something that might change how you see me.”

His brows knitted together, concern flashing in his eyes. “What is it?”

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around his. “You need to know that I’m a criminal.”

Of all the things she could’ve possibly said to him, that was probably the last thing he expected. “What do you mean, a criminal? What kind of?—”

“I’m a thief.” Sloane took a deep, shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the stones at their feet. She closed her eyes, as if bracing herself for a blow.

He tried to wrap his brain around exactly what she was saying. Did she mean she’d shoplifted or something? That didn’t sound like the woman who’d been concerned about taking clothes off the line in Moldova, but even someone as good and nice as Sloane could’ve made some errors in judgment in her past.

“I don’t understand. Explain it to me.”

“I told you about when I was ten,” she began, her voice brittle, “and my mom left my dad. That she took money when she left.”

“And he hated her and resented you for it. Made you pay back the money he lent you for funeral expenses.” Because the man was an asshole.

“There was more to it that I didn’t tell you. My mom also took some jewelry. I think maybe some jewelry he’d bought for Clarice. I remember Mom and me going to a pawn shop and selling it.”

Callum’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“When Mom died and I went to my father’s, he asked if I’d known she’d stolen stuff. When I said I knew about the jewelry she’d taken, he made me sign a document saying I was a part of her theft and would take responsibility for paying him back. He said, with interest, it would be over $100,000.”

Callum’s jaw clenched, the veins in his neck taut as he forced himself to speak as calmly as possible. “And that’s why you think you’re a thief?”

She nodded. “He’s got my signed statement admitting my guilt. He said it was only out of the kindness of his heart that he was stopping Clarice from having me thrown in jail. That I had to stay and pay what was owed. Do whatever the family needed.”

Callum could not believe what he was hearing. This was bullshit of the highest fucking order. He opened his mouth to start explaining all the holes in William Getty’s story, but she continued.

“And then it got more complicated.”

It was taking every ounce of self-restraint he had to let her continue. She needed to get this out. “Tell me.”

“There were the times when Marissa got into trouble after I moved in. She got into a car accident when she was driving drunk and hit a tree. Before calling the cops, she had me come out to the accident site then told the police it was me who was driving.”

What the actual fuck?

“Then once, when we were at the mall, she shoplifted from some high-end store. The store called the cops and showed them the security footage and?—”

“And Marissa said it was you.”

She paused, her lips trembling as fresh tears streamed down her face. “The cops believed her, of course. Why wouldn’t they? I was the good-for-nothing daughter of the house, the one already branded a thief by her own father. I spent a night in jail. My dad got me out, but he made it clear I owed him even more for that.”

Callum exhaled sharply, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “Sloane, Jesus…”

“He told me that prison was all I had to look forward to if I didn’t do as I was told.” Her voice broke again. “Do you hate me?”

If any of the Getty family had been there right then, Callum wasn’t sure he could’ve been responsible for his actions. Rage rose inside him like a savage black wave, but he forced it down.

Right now was about Sloane and what she needed.

As gently as possible, he cupped her face. “Sloane. Look at me.”

She did, her blue eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to live under any of this anymore,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of fury swirling inside him. “That paper you signed? It’s worthless. No one can hold you responsible for something your mother did, especially when you were only ten years old. Not to mention, you were a minor when you signed it. It wouldn’t hold up in court for a second.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hell, even if you’d been eighteen, we could argue duress. You were trying to get money to bury your mother, for God’s sake. You probably would’ve signed anything.”

Sloane’s lips parted in surprise, a flicker of hope sparking in her eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Callum said firmly. “And as for the trading places with Marissa, let me ask you this? Was it the same cop involved both times?”

She nodded. “Yes. Detective Whitman.”

“I can promise you something shady was going on, then. It wouldn’t have been the same department, let alone the same officer for both crimes. I have no doubt Whitman is on your father’s payroll. I’ll look into it. And if there’s any record of what they did to you, I’ll make sure it’s wiped clean.”

Her tears flowed freely now, but they were no longer the tears of despair. She collapsed into his arms, her small frame shaking against his chest as he held her tightly.

“I’ve been so afraid my family was going to show up here and take me away. Or even worse, the police.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Never in his life had Callum made a promise he was so determined to keep. “I will get Lincoln to start looking into details and see how we can move forward.”

“Thank you,” she said against his chest.

“The Getty family will never control your fate again. You’re not alone anymore,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and resolute. “You have me, Sloane. And you have all the people in Oak Creek.”

They were falling in love with her just as much as he was.

The thought of that should freak him out, but it didn’t. Not even a little bit.

It felt… right . Just like holding her in his arms did.

When they finally pulled back from each other, Callum cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the last of her tears. “Now that all our secrets are out,” he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips, “can we finally start this relationship for real? There’s nothing more that I want than that.”

She let out a shaky breath, and a timid smile lit up her face. “Well, actually, believe it or not, I have one more?—”

Before she could say more, a raindrop splashed against her cheek, followed by another. Within moments, the sky opened up, pouring down on them.

Callum grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the trail. “Hold that thought. Let’s get back to the house.”

They ran, laughing the whole way. By the time they made it to the porch, they were both drenched. But her face was lit up in a way that made his heart clench in his chest.

He cupped her cheeks. “You’re so damned beautiful. You’re absolutely glowing .”

“Callum, I need to tell you?—”

“Shower first.” He kissed her, then pulled back and pushed her gently through the door. “Get warmed up. Then we’ll talk.”

“But…” Her brow wrinkled.

“Whatever it is you have to say, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay.” She nodded slowly then headed toward the bathroom.

He grabbed a towel and started drying himself off then stopped. He’d join Sloane in the shower instead then dry them both off.

Much better plan.

He draped the towel around his neck when his phone vibrated on the table. Without looking, he snatched it up, thinking it was one of his deputies checking in from town.

“Webb,” he said briskly, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Callum, it’s Dustin.”

Callum’s jaw tightened, his grip on the phone instinctively firming. Not who he wanted to talk to.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice low but edged with irritation.

“I need to know if you’ve seen Sloane Miller.”

“Again?” Callum froze, his back straightening. “Why?”

“Her family’s still looking for her. They’re worried.”

A sharp laugh escaped Callum, bitter and humorless. He didn’t know if Dustin was privy to the Gettys’ internal dynamics, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the man knew everything William, Clarice, and Marissa had done to Sloane.

But as much as he wanted to confront Dustin—confront all of them—he didn’t want to tip them off that Sloane was here. Not until he got Lincoln on the situation and they had a plan in place.

“This question has already been asked and answered in my text to you a few days ago. I don’t know where she is.” And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, you bastard.

“Fine. But it’s important we find her. She’s…unstable. Her family is worried she had a breakdown.”

More likely worried Sloane was going to get actual legal counsel and sue the shit out of them.

“Yeah? Why do they think that?”

“She’s been acting strange since the kidnapping. But, I mean, who can blame her?”

Yeah, who could blame someone for acting weird after being kidnapped and her dad not doing what he could to make sure she made it out of it alive.

“Yeah. Kidnapping is traumatic.” He kept his voice as even as possible, trying not to give anything away.

“Not as traumatic as being raped while kidnapped.”

“What?” Callum knew for a fact she hadn’t been raped. He’d seen the proof himself when she’d given him her virginity. But he couldn’t let Dustin know that. “Why do they think that?”

“Because right before she ran away from home, she found out she was pregnant.”