The peacefulness of the scene took my breath away. It was like a living portrait, something I’d only imagined but never experienced. My heart began to pound as we pulled up close. What did it mean? What would he do?

My mind spun all kinds of horrible scenarios. Robbery and hostage situations. I silently vowed not to let him hurt the woman or her child, though I had no idea how I could accomplish that.

She didn’t seem concerned that an eighteen-wheeler was pulling off the road onto the grassy area in front of her fence. Run, I thought. Get yourself and your kid inside and lock the door. But she stood there, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. Then she waved. Actually waved her hand in greeting though she still didn’t move from her spot.

Then another idea came to me. Was she possibly…his wife? Or girlfriend? Was that his child? And as messed up as everything had been, it somehow offended me worst of all, the idea that he would bring some random girl home to his family.

Anger bubbled up inside me, warring with the helplessness. “Who are these people?” I asked.

He finished shutting off the engine. “Friends.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not your kid?”

His eyes widened. “I don’t have any kids. I wouldn’t be driving around the country if I had a son waiting somewhere.”

“Oh right, because you’re a pillar of morality.”

The words slipped out with a dry humor before I’d thought them through. He stared at me for a moment, clearly as shocked as I was. My heart beat a worried tattoo. What had I done?

He threw back his head and laughed. “Jesus. You’re a troublemaker, you know that?”

“I’m really not,” I said sadly.

If I had been rebellious, I never would have stayed holed up at home for so long. And I would have fought harder against him all this time. What did it say about me that I hadn’t? Clearly I was too weak to stand up for myself.

Or I secretly thought I deserved it, but that was even more disturbing.

“Come on,” he said. “You’ll like them.”

He opened his door and started to climb down from the cab.

“Wait.”

He turned back.

“You aren’t going to hurt them, are you?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “No. I understand you have no reason to believe me when I say that, but I’d die before I hurt my friends.”

I believed him. The words settled into place inside me like a jigsaw piece. Sometimes it felt like that, like he was a puzzle and I had to search for every piece to put him back together again. He wouldn’t hurt them because they were his friends—I trusted that. What would it take for me to become his friend?

Strange thought.

But I dutifully stepped down from the cab and followed him up the driveway. When we’d gotten halfway there, the little boy jumped off his trike and ran over. He hit Hunter like a rocket, right in the stomach, and Hunter stumbled back, laughing. I gaped a little, staring at the open, happy smile on his face that I’d sure as heck never seen before. They wrestled right there, while I stood off to the side, feeling oddly bereft, as if I were missing something and only just realized it.

The woman walked over to me, smiling. “Good to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “Evie. Nice to meet you too.”

Weird but also oddly nice. We were a couple visiting friends, two lovers on a road trip. It wasn’t far off from our actual identities if I ignored the whole kidnapping bit, and as time passed, I was tempted to do just that. Maybe it wasn’t even Stockholm Syndrome but simply exhaustion, resignation—sometimes it was easier to pretend.

“Hunter’s never brought anyone by. You must be someone special.”

That answered one question. He didn’t make a habit of this. Did that mean she was right, then? If I were someone special, it was a dubious honor at best. Someone special who let people imprison her. Someone special who imprisoned herself with her fears, preferring to live through her dreams.

She continued. “We hope you’ll stay a few days.”

I had no idea what Hunter would do. I never did. I smiled. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure what our plans are.”

“Of course.” She waved it away. “I’m sure you two would rather get on your way than hang around boring married folk, but you know you’re welcome as long as you want. And you feel free to ask me if you need anything. Any friend of Hunter’s is a friend of ours.”

What I needed was an escape plan, but I doubted she would be amenable to that considering her devotion to Hunter. And I found myself strangely reticent to tell her otherwise, to say that the man tossing a baseball with her little boy was a monster.

The screen door squeaked, and I looked back to see a middle-aged man emerge. He wore a sweater vest and a friendly smile. Hunter stopped playing long enough to shake hands and formally introduce me.

They were Laura and James Truluck with their little boy, Billy. They’d lived in this house for the past six years, but they seemed to know Hunter from before then. I was introduced as simply Evie, and I knew they assumed I was Hunter’s girlfriend. The way he curved his hand around my waist and held me to his side seemed to endorse that. The worst part was I didn’t even want to pull away.

Chapter Eleven

Around 40 people are killed each year when they go over the falls—most of which are suicides.

We went inside, where the men broke off to watch a football game in the basement while Billy played with trains. I offered to help Laura with dinner, especially now that we’d added to her load.

She set me up with the ingredients for a large, colorful salad and I went to work chopping vegetables, a mixture of store-bought and ones grown in their backyard. As she cooked the steaks and prepared garlic bread, she chatted about Billy, about the renovations they were doing on the house.

She sent me a guilty look. “I’m just talking your ears off, aren’t I? It’s not often we have visitors here. It’s good to talk to another woman.”

“Not at all.” I smiled. “I don’t…I haven’t gotten out much, so this is nice for me too.”

“You know,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know I said that already, but I…I can just see how happy you make him.”

I kept my gaze on the carrot I was grating. “I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, it’s right there in his face, the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you. I recognize that.”

My throat constricted as I imagined him looking at some other woman, talking about her, even though by all accounts I shouldn’t care. But maybe this would be an opportunity to learn something new about him, to gather a new puzzle piece.

“Who do you recognize it from?” I asked, and my voice came out husky.

She looked at me, surprised. “From James. When we were together, still dating. He didn’t admit it was love for a while, you know men, but I knew. And I just gave him patience, you know? He came around.” She laughed a little, gesturing toward the house. “As you can see.”

“Oh.”

Her nose scrunched. “You thought I meant some other woman? No, Hunter’s never been in love before. At least, not that I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’m pretty sure he never expected to be.” Sadness weighed down her smile, and her eyes looked into the past. “But life can take us to crazy places. I like to think things turn out for the best, you know? No matter how we got here.”

“Right,” I said, but my voice cracked.

Her gaze met mine, her green eyes filling with concern. “Is everything okay with you? Here I haven’t given you a chance to get a word in edgewise. If something is bothering you, I’d love to lend an ear.”

“No, I…” What could I say to that?

“I know men can be stubborn sometimes, always thinking they know what’s right for us. It’s damn annoying, that’s what it is.”