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“Intrigue.” I carry two Watermelon Poppis over to the leather sectional and place them in the cupholders. “What movie did you pick?”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out. How do I kick this to the projector?”

“With this.” I reach into the console between our two seats and withdraw a small remote. After powering on the projector, I say, “Hit the play button and it’ll start.”

He does then heads over toward the chair as the opening starts rolling. I recognize the movie instantly because it is literally my favorite movie of all time.

“ The Princess Bride ?”

“I love it. Action, adventure, sword fighting, romance—it has everything.”

I stare at him. How does this man get even better the more I get to know him?

“What? Do you not like it?”

“No, I love this movie.” I smile. “Just surprised you picked it over the millions of war action movies that are on there.”

“I’m a romantic at heart,” he says.

“Oh? Is there a special someone who gets to see that side of you?”

He shakes his head. “I decided a long time ago that I didn’t want to settle down.”

“Why?”

Riley turns to me. “I didn’t want to risk losing the peace I fought to regain after my one and only serious relationship went belly up.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking. You know so much about me.”

“She decided she didn’t want to be with someone who’d already pledged their life to their country.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “She also hated being outside. Unless it was lounging by a pool, sipping something cold.”

“Another ouch. I can tell you like being outside.”

“I do,” he replies. “We just weren’t a great fit, but it stung. And after that, I decided I wanted to focus on the ranch and the life I’m building there.”

“I get that. After everything happened, I couldn’t stand to even be touched. All of my dreams of having a family one day were just gone. It felt surreal, honestly. There was no longer a desire for love.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “It is what it is. I figured I would take care of my grandfather and live my life in what peace I found as soon as I got sober.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” he says, catching me by surprise. “I hope you see your own strength.”

“If you had seen me before, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“I’m saying it now,” he says.

Our gazes hold a minute, just like Wesley and Buttercup’s do in the movie that has become nothing but background noise.

“Oh, I’m going to go get Romeo, if you’re okay with him being down here? I left him upstairs, and he’ll get upset if he’s left alone too long.”

“Of course.”

“Great. Thanks.” He hops up and leaves the room.

Because I’m not great at sitting still, I get to my feet and move over toward the candy my grandfather used to buy in bulk. I smile as I run my fingers over the ridiculous amount of Toblerone, Milky Ways, and Snickers bars. The man loved his chocolate. And to be honest, so do I.

I lift one of the Toblerone, but before I can open it, I note that the bottom of the basket is different than it was before. Curious, I move the rest of the candy bars then retrieve a manila folder that had been hidden beneath the chocolate.

What in the world would he have hidden down here?

Setting the candy aside that had been in my hand, I open the folder. My stomach churns, bile rising as I find myself staring at surveillance photos taken of Glen Dodger. They’re taken from a distance, him coming in and out of buildings or on the golf course.

Did my grandfather know the truth? I flip to the next page.

A picture of me. The night I nearly died.

Lying in a hospital bed, both arms tethered to the bed because they were worried I would hurt myself again.

My eyes fill. It’s one thing to live that moment, but looking at it now from the outside of that misery, seeing the darkness in my gaze and the brokenness of my expression—how did he survive seeing that?

How could I have hurt him the way that I did?

I flip the image over and see another one of Glen Dodger. This time, he’s standing beside his wife, and the two of them are smiling as they talk to a group of small children.

Just seeing his face has bile rising in my throat. But I don’t let myself be intimidated by the image of him. Instead, I set it aside and look for more clues. The only other one I find is a Post-it note with a phone number.

No name.

No notes.

No answers.

Just seven digits.

The door at the top of the stairs opens, and Riley comes down, Romeo at his side. The second he sees me, his smile fades, and his expression turns serious. “What happened?”

“I found this. I don’t know what it means.” I offer him the folder.

Riley opens it, and I cringe as he flips through the photographs because I know he’s about to see me at my lowest. He doesn’t hesitate on it though, doesn’t look at me, just continues moving through the photos at the same pace.

“What does this mean?” I ask him. “Why would he have hidden it down here?”

“He was trying to keep anyone from finding it,” he says. “Looks like he succeeded.”

“But why?”

Riley raises his gaze to me. “Maybe he found out what happened to you and was trying to prove it.”