Page 58 of Jax & Knox

He's happily smashing Cheerios into his tray, oblivious to the anxiety starting to creep up my spine.

It's fine. They'll be back soon.

I tell myself that as I clean up the kitchen, putting away dishes that don't really need to be put away and wiping down counters that are already clean. Anything to keep my hands busy and stop myself from checking the time every thirty seconds.

It doesn't work.

Without Jax and Knox here, the cottage feels different. Too still. Too quiet. I hadn't realized how quickly I'd gotten used to the sound of them moving around, their voices filling the rooms, or one of them making Owen laugh from somewhere down the hall.

I finish in the kitchen and wander into the living room, but I don't know what to do with myself once I get there. I sink onto the couch and pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them as I stare at the wall.

They're fine. We're fine.

Except my brain won't leave it alone.

What if Justin finds us? What if coming here only put Jax and Knox in danger too? They've done nothing but help Owen and me, and now they're tangled up in something that has nothing to do with them.

And what happens if Justin comes for Owen?

That thought makes my stomach clench.

I should be able to protect my son. I've spent every day since we left making sure Justin couldn't get near him again, but lately I can't stop wondering if I've done enough. If I'm strong enough to keep running when Justin has more money, more connections, and more ways to find us than I ever will.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, startling me out of my thoughts.

I glance at it but don't reach for it.

Probably Jax. Or Knox. Maybe one of them checking in because apparently they've both decided I need to be watched every second of the day.

The thought should make me smile.

Instead, the phone buzzes again, then a third time.

Something cold settles in my stomach as I stare at it.

Don't look.

I could delete the messages without opening them. Block the number and pretend they never came through. That's what I should do, especially when I don't recognize the number lighting up my screen.

But I already know. I don't know how, but I know.

My hands are trembling when I reach for the phone. I unlock it and see three messages from an unknown number waiting for me.

The first is a photo.

For a second, my brain can't make sense of what I'm looking at. Then I recognize the blue shirt. The little sneakers. The dark curls I smooth away from his forehead every night before I kiss him goodnight.

Owen.

He's at the park from yesterday, sitting on the swing with his little hands wrapped around the chains and his face tipped back with a huge smile.

I stare at the picture, trying to understand why someone would send it to me. Every bit of warmth drains from my body.

"No." The word slips out before I can stop it.

I swipe to the second message, even though every instinct inside me is screaming not to.

Another photo fills the screen.