Page 48 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

“Where’s Roxy?” I yell as soon as I pull up to Everest Lane.

The house at the address Jordan gave stands crooked and lifeless, like something out of a bad horror movie.

It’s in Fern Falls—a town we used to hear about growing up, but rarely visited.

The kind of place that was always on the edge of everything, its economy stagnant, its people a little rougher around the edges.

Parties held here were more a suggestion. One that we never followed through on.?

My stomach churns as I take in the peeling paint and overgrown yard. How did Jordan even know about this place?

I scan the yard, calling for her again. “Roxy!” Roxy would never stray far. If she were here, she’d already be at my side, tail wagging, her warm presence easing my nerves. But there’s no sign of her anywhere.

Jordan sits casually on the steps that lead up to the home, watching me like he’s trying to work through something in his head. His expression makes my skin crawl, and I can’t figure out why he’s brought me here and what he could possibly have to say that hasn’t been said in the past.

“I never had the dog,” he says flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

My breath catches. The realization of what he’s done sinks in, cold and heavy. Roxy isn’t here. She’s still out there—somewhere—missing. Maybe even hurt and scared.

“You don’t get to talk to me anymore,” I snap, my voice stronger than I feel. “We’re divorced and I have a protective order against you, remember?” The weight of the gun tucked into the back of my jeans presses against my spine, grounding me in a way nothing else has today.

“I know,” he replies, almost wistfully. “I just…fuck, Molly, I miss you and this was the only way I knew I could get you to listen.”

I stare at him in shock. Is he serious?

But his expression says he is. His face twists with something between longing and anger, and I take a moment to really look at him.

The sharp jawline I once loved brushing my fingers across, the dark brown hair my fingers used to tangle in, those warm green eyes that made promises they could never keep.

Jordan was the kind of man who turned heads without trying. Classically handsome, charming, and a good listener. The kind of man that every woman wanted to sleep with—and many had.

He’d been helpful to me when I first moved to Louisiana, kind, and charismatic. Always willing to lend a hand. And he had. Hands, lips, his whole body—lending it all to women who weren’t me. His wife.

For a long time, I blamed myself. I wondered what was so wrong with me that I couldn’t hold on to a man like him.

Maybe there was some fatal flaw that I was missing in my appearance, or personality, that has men taking advantage of my kindness and treating me like shit.

Maybe I don’t have as much to offer as I thought I did.

Why was it that I kept falling for beautiful liars with wicked tongues who shattered my trust.

But I’m not that woman anymore.

Since moving back to Whitewood Creek, I stopped asking why and started learning what I deserved.

I realized that my future didn’t have to look like my past relationships and Colt is proof of that.

He’s a good man, a beautiful man, with a kind and steady heart.

Our love is built on years of trust, friendship, and honesty.

He’d proven to me in his youth that he was a good person who will never let me down.

That’s why I never hesitated to love Colt.

To trust him. To say yes when he asked me to marry him.

He’s everything Jordan never was—and everything I never dared to believe I deserved. Becoming a part of the Marshall family? Well, that doesn’t happen to girls like me who grew up in a trailer home full of sin.

And that’s why I’m standing here now, unshaken. Jordan might be a ghost from my past, but he doesn’t get to haunt my future anymore and I’m much stronger than I used to be.

“Well, I don’t miss you,” I respond.

He steps towards me again, closer now. “Come on… we had a good thing between us.”

“We did, or so I thought we did, until you cheated on me, relentlessly . Have you forgotten about the hundreds of times that you hurt me? The times that you let me down when I needed you most?”

At least he has the gall to look wounded for a moment before he quickly recovers.

“What happened to Bianca? Kelly? Vanessa? And Kylie?” I snap, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “Are you just bored now? Is it because sneaking around without doing it behind your wife’s back isn’t as thrilling? Sleeping with random women not cutting it these days?”

Jordan rubs a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting somewhere over my shoulder. “Maybe... and yes, maybe I wasn’t the best husband.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You weren’t just a bad husband, Jordan. You were the worst husband. You weren’t even a husband to me. I was in a marriage alone.”

His gaze falters for a second before he speaks, voice quieter but no less infuriating. “And maybe you’re right. There was a certain thrill to it… knowing I was cheating on you. But I’ve changed. I want you back, Molly.”

“No.” The word comes out firm, absolute.

I take a step back, putting distance between us as I raise a hand to stop him from coming any closer.

“It’s too late. You need to leave my town immediately and never come back here again.

There’s nothing here for you. I don’t love you anymore, I don’t want you anymore, and I’ve moved on with someone else. ”

His jaw tightens as he scoffs. “Already? Didn’t take you long. Are you sure you weren’t the one cheating on me?”

I pin him with the coldest, hardest glare I can muster—the kind I perfected growing up with a gambler for a father, a man who constantly surrounded himself with questionable company. Men whose lingering stares taught me to protect myself long before I should have needed to.

It’s the look that says try me, and you’ll regret it .

Jordan takes an uneasy step back, his bravado cracking under the weight of my gaze.

“I’d be careful what you say or do next, because the man that I’m in love with is just as fucked up as I am,” I shout.

I yank open my car door without another word, sliding inside and slamming it shut. The tires screech against the pavement as I peel out of the driveway, leaving Jordan—and the wreckage of my past—behind me in that run down home.

My hands shake against the steering wheel, the road ahead is dark, lit only by my headlights, but I feel lighter with every mile that I put between us. Still, my chest heaves as I let out a long, jagged breath. I reach for my phone to call Colt—only to realize the battery is completely dead.

Shit.

If Colt left Charlotte right when I called earlier, he should be close to arriving in town by now. I need to get to him before he heads to Everest Lane and meets Jordan.

I press my foot harder against the gas, speeding toward my duplex despite the anxiety that’s creeping up my spine. Pulling into the driveway, I dart inside and head straight for the kitchen. I rummage through a drawer, locate a spare phone charger, and plug it in.

While the phone powers up, I step outside and scan the perimeter, hoping that Roxy might have found her way back here. But the silence is deafening, and the emptiness presses down on me.

Please be okay. Please don’t be hurt.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Focus. One step at a time. First, find Colt. Then, find Roxy.

Dammit, girl where are you?

I race back inside and pick up my phone, dialing Colt as soon as it hits 1%.

“Molly?” he shouts on the first ring.

“I’m fine. Don’t go to Everest Lane.”

I hear him mumble something to someone in the car with him and then tires screeching. “Where are you?”

“Back at my house.”

“Safe?”

“Safe…”

He sighs. “Good. I have Roxy.”

My heart squeezes and for the first time today, I allow myself to feel a wave of relief. “Jordan’s gone. I don’t he’ll be coming back.”

He breathes, heavy for a moment, his relief palpable without any words. “You’re safe. We’re safe. I’m never leaving you again. I’ll be there in five minutes to take you home.”

Home. Because that’s where I live now. Our home.