Page 12 of In the Dark of the Past

I took another sip of tea and let the thought settle.

Somewhere, someone knew exactly what had happened to her. And that someone had either a hell of a lot to lose or a legacy to protect. At least, that was my gut instinct.

I was sure Finn would have something to say about that.

A soft breeze drifted through the open window, and I sat back, letting my gaze wander past the potted fern Libby insisted I name—I hadn’t yet—and out into the sleepy pulse of downtown Maple Ridge. Normalcy hummed beyond the glass. Coffee drinkers, shopkeepers, a dog pulling at its leash.

The illusion of peace.

And somewhere amid all of that stillness, danger stretched its limbs.

I pressed my fingers to my temple and exhaled slowly. I could almost feel a storm gathering. I just didn’t know what direction it would come from. I took a deep breath. Today wasn’t about death, though. At least not yet.

“You ready?” Libby’s voice broke through my thoughts as she swung through the office door in a puff of Ed Hardy perfume and unbothered confidence. Autumn trailed behind her with a travel mug in one hand and a stack of true-crime books in the other.

“Define ready,” I said, standing to grab my bag. “Is this a get-dressed-and-go-out ready, or a let’s-pretend-we’re-being-social-but-actually-sit-in-a-dark-corner-and-eat-fries ready?”

“Somewhere between the two, I think,” Autumn said. “Libby promised mimosas. And scandal.”

Libby psshaw’d. “It’s not scandal,” she said sweetly. “It’s local politics.”

“Like I said, scandal,” Autumn returned.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. I needed this. Some time to breathe, laugh, forget. For just a few hours. I needed to put aside the fact that I’d walked back into a town full of secrets and in front of a man who still had a lock on part of my heart—no matter how much I pretended otherwise.

We ended up at The Briar Patch, a charming café with vintage photos on the walls and a farm-to-table menu that changed depending on the owner’s mood. Autumn dove into the local political gossip, Libby ordered an almost offensively pink drink, and I let myself enjoy it all.

Until the front door chimed, and I saw Finn walk in with Rand and Cade.

Because…of course.

He looked relaxed, like he belonged. Like he hadn’t cracked my rib cage wide open with a single look four nights ago and then widened the gap the night after.

I ducked my head, a little too late, and Libby caught the shift.

She leaned in to whisper, “Want to go?”

“No,” I said, straightening my spine. “We both live here now. They’re allowed to come out for brunch. Even if their timing is absolute crap.”

Cade saw us first and waved. Rand offered a polite nod. Finn met my gaze and held it.

The room suddenly felt too small. The air was too still.

“Just breathe,” Autumn said softly, clearly noticing my distress. She put her hand over mine and gave my fingers a little squeeze.

I did.

When Finn passed our table on the way to theirs, he didn’t say a word.

But he didn’t look away, either.

Autumn sipped her mimosa and inclined her head toward the corner where the guys were now laughing over something Rand had said. Cade had practically doubled over, and Finn was shaking his head with that half-smile of his that had once felt like home.

“If you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, her voice soft but curious, “you can tell me to kick rocks. But what happened between you two?”

Libby’s eyes darted to mine. She didn’t say anything, but her face was already a plea for gentleness.

I took a breath and traced the rim of my bloody Mary glass with one finger, watching the condensation bead and run. “It’s…complicated.”