Page 25 of Montana Justice

Piper

The sound of children’s laughter mixed with barking dogs and the occasional whinny created a special kind of chaos at Pawsitive Connections. I stood near the rabbit hutches, watching Evelyn chase after her almost-three-year-old son Zeke, who seemed determined to climb into the pen with the goats.

“Zeke, sweetie, we pet the goats through the fence,” Evelyn called, her dark hair escaping from its ponytail as she moved. Six-year-old Avery sat cross-legged by the rabbits, carefully offering lettuce leaves with the serious concentration only a child could manage.

Emma laughed from where she supervised her four-year-old Tyson’s attempts to brush one of the therapy dogs. “At least yours listens sometimes. Tyson’s current life goal is to ride every animal on this property like a horse.”

“Including the chickens,” Jada added, emerging from the barn with fresh water buckets. Her movements were efficient, practiced from months of working here when she wasn’t in school. “Last week, he tried to saddle up Big Bertha.”

“The rooster?” I couldn’t help but smile at the mental image.

“The very one. Lark had to bribe him with cookies to let go of the poor bird.”

I’d been working at Pawsitive for three weeks now, but this was my first time experiencing what Lark called “controlled chaos day”—when the Resting Warrior and Warrior Security moms brought their kids to visit.

The property transformed from a working farm to something closer to a petting zoo, complete with sticky fingers and delighted squeals.

Caleb watched everything from his carrier strapped to my chest, his dark eyes—so like his father’s—taking in the activity with serious baby contemplation. At five and a half months, he was more alert every day, reaching for things that caught his interest.

“He’s getting so big,” Emma said, moving closer to peek at him. “Look at those cheeks!”

“He’s finally catching up from being premature.” I adjusted the carrier straps, the weight of him both grounding and terrifying. Every pound he gained was proof I was doing something right, even as I betrayed everything else.

“Mama! Mama, look!” Zeke had managed to get his entire arm through the fence and was petting a very patient goat. “Soft!”

“Very soft,” Evelyn agreed, gently extracting him. “But we need to be gentle, remember?”

Jada set down the water buckets and stretched, her college sweatshirt riding up to reveal a scar along her ribs.

She’d told me pieces of her story over the past week—how she’d stalked and kidnapped Kenzie Hurst, one of Resting Warrior’s own, and nearly destroyed multiple lives.

Then her memories had been permanently erased when she’d been given some sort of drug.

The parallels to my own situation felt like accusations every time I looked at her. The difference was, when Jada learned the truth about what she’d done, even though she couldn’t remember the person she’d been when she’d done it, she’d chosen to make it right.

She’d nearly died protecting the people she’d once targeted.

I was still actively betraying mine.

“Earth to Piper,” Emma called, waving a hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry. Just thinking about everything I need to get done today.” I forced a smile, adjusting Caleb when he started to fuss. “Duchess is getting closer to foaling. Lark wants me to check on her every hour.”

“That mare’s been ‘getting closer’ for two weeks,” Jada said. “I swear she’s holding that baby in just to make Lark crazy.”

“Speaking of babies,” Evelyn said, corralling Zeke again as he made another break for the goats, “how are things going with you and the sheriff?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Things are fine.”

“Fine?” Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not what I heard. Margie Henderson said she saw you two at the grocery store yesterday, and I quote, ‘looking at each other like the sun rose and set in each other’s eyes.’”

“Margie Henderson needs a hobby,” I muttered.

“She has one,” Jada said. “It’s called gossiping about Sheriff Sexy.”

I choked on air. “Sheriff what ?”

“Oh, come on,” Evelyn said, finally giving up and lifting Zeke into her arms, despite his protests.

“He’s gone from Deputy Dashing to Sheriff Sexy if you ask any of the single women in town—and quite a few of the married ones too.

Those shoulders? That smile? And now he’s gone and turned into a devoted father and boyfriend? The man’s practically catnip.”

“We’re not— I mean, he’s not my boyfriend.” The word felt strange in my mouth, too normal for what we were. Too simple for the complicated tangle of want and guilt and impending disaster.

“Riiiight,” Emma said, drawing out the word. “That’s why he looks at you like you personally hung the moon. And why you’ve been wearing that little smile all week.”

Had I been smiling? The past seven days felt like a dream I was afraid to wake from.

After our first date—my first real date—something had shifted between us.

We’d been sharing his bed every night, falling asleep tangled together and waking up the same way.

He’d loved me with a tenderness that made me want to weep, whispered promises against my skin that I stored up like treasures I didn’t deserve.

I’d loved him with a passion that had surprised us both.

I’d tried to compartmentalize it all. Lock the happiness in one box, the guilt in another, the terror in a third. If I looked at the whole picture, if I let myself think about how this would end, I’d shatter completely.

“See?” Jada pointed at me. “That’s the face of a woman who’s been properly f?—”

“Children present!” Evelyn sang out, covering Avery’s ears while the little girl giggled.

“I was going to say ‘fomanced.’” Jada’s grin was wicked. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Evelyn.”

“My mind lives in the gutter,” Evelyn said. “It’s cozy there.”

“Anyway,” Emma intervened, “what we’re saying is that it’s nice to see Lachlan happy. He’s been alone too long, throwing himself into work. You’re good for him.”

The words hit like solid punches. Good for him .

If only they knew the truth—that I was toxic, that every moment of happiness I stole with him was paid for with betrayal.

That I’d spent the week sneaking photos of Pawsitive’s delivery schedules, memorizing which companies brought supplies when, documenting every pattern Ray could exploit.

That I’d earned another precious thirty-second picture that kept me going, kept me believing this would somehow work out, even as I destroyed everything good in my life.

“I don’t know about that,” I managed.

“We do,” Evelyn said firmly.

“Someone told Daniel that Lachlan’s been whistling at work,” Emma added. “Actual whistling. The man who usually walks around looking like he’s personally responsible for every crime in the state.”

“He takes his job seriously,” I said, defensive of him even as I undermined everything he worked for.

“Too seriously sometimes,” Jada said. “But lately? He’s been different. Lighter, even with the stuff that’s been going on. He actually smiled when he pulled someone over for speeding last week. Mrs. Multari thought he was having a stroke.”

I had no idea what to say to that.

“Oh!” Emma suddenly clapped her hands. “Before I forget—you and Lachlan need to come to family dinner tonight.”

I blinked at the subject change. “Family dinner?”

“First Friday of the month,” Evelyn explained, finally setting Zeke down with strict instructions to stay away from the fence. “We all get together at the ranch, potluck-style. Kids run wild, adults actually get to finish conversations, nobody has to do all the cooking or cleaning up.”

“I don’t know…” The thought of integrating further into their group, of pretending to belong when I was actively betraying one of their own, made my stomach churn.

“No excuses,” Jada said. “First-timers don’t have to bring anything. Just show up, eat, and prepare to be adopted by the pushiest, most loving group of people you’ll ever meet.”

“Lachlan might have to work?—”

“He won’t,” Emma said confidently. “Even Sheriff Sexy knows better than to miss family dinners without a real emergency.”

There it was again. Sheriff Sexy . Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. “Does he know you all call him that?”

“God no,” Evelyn said. “He’d never leave his house again. The man can face down armed criminals, but genuine compliments make him turn red and stumble over his words.”

That was true. Just this morning, I’d told him how good he looked in his uniform, and he’d actually walked into the doorframe on his way out. It had been adorable and had made me want to drag him back to bed, duty be damned.

“So, you’ll come?” Emma pressed. “Six o’clock at the lodge. You can’t miss it—it’s the big building with approximately forty thousand toys scattered across the front yard.”

Avery turned to me. “Daddy is teaching me knife throwing.”

I could feel my eyes getting wide.

“He’s teaching you foam knife throwing,” Evelyn corrected quickly. “With very soft, very safe foam knives that couldn’t hurt a butterfly.”

“Anyway,” Emma said loudly, “family dinner. Six o’clock. Be there or face the wrath of twenty well-meaning adults who will absolutely show up at your house with casseroles.”

I thought about making more excuses, but the truth was, I wanted to go. Wanted to pretend, just for one night, that I belonged in their warm, chaotic circle. That I was the kind of woman who could be part of something good without destroying it.

“Okay,” I heard myself say. “We’ll be there.”

The children chose that moment to converge on the rabbit hutches en masse, requiring all hands to prevent a mass bunny liberation. By the time we’d restored order and convinced Tyson that rabbits didn’t need to be “freed into the wild,” it was time for them to head home.

“Remember,” Emma said as she buckled Tyson into his car seat, “six o’clock. Don’t make me send out a search party.”

After they left, I stood in the sudden quiet of the barn, Caleb sleeping against my chest. This was what I was going to lose.

These women who’d welcomed me without question, who’d made me feel normal for the first time in my life.

Who’d made me believe, even for brief moments, that I could be more than Ray Matthews’s daughter.

When they found out the truth—and they would, eventually—they’d look at me the way Maria Rosario had. Like I was toxic. Like I’d proved that the apple truly never did fall far from the tree.

I pulled out my phone to text Lachlan about dinner, trying to ignore the way my hands shook. Another lie of omission, another step deeper into a life that wasn’t really mine. But I’d take it. I’d take every moment of belonging I could steal, store them up against the cold that was coming.

Because winter always came. And when it did, I’d need these memories to keep me warm in whatever cage—literal or metaphorical—I ended up in.

But for tonight, I’d pretend. I’d sit at their table and laugh at their jokes and let myself believe in the fairy tale a little longer.

It was all I had left.