“Well, I didn’t want to worry you, but last night I thought I heard someone on your property. Around eleven. My dog started barking, so I looked out the back window. Didn’t see anything, but I felt something. Like someone was watching.”
Ice slid through my chest.
“Lydia drove by this morning,” I murmured. “I think it was her. Or someone else from the family.”
She nodded.
A heavy quiet settled between us—not fear, not panic, just an understanding. One that acknowledged the truth I’d been trying not to face.
“They’re not done,” I whispered.
“No,” she agreed softly. “But you’re not alone.”
I swallowed hard.
“Thank you for saying that.”
She placed a hand on my arm.
“You did the right thing yesterday, dear. Boundaries help everyone see the truth—even if they don’t like it.”
Before I could respond, the metallic clink of Walter’s tools sounded again outside. Mrs. Rowan squeezed my arm once more.
“I’ll let you finish. Call me if you need anything.”
After she left, I carried the muffins to the counter and stared at them, feeling something odd and bittersweet stirring in me.
Support.
The simple, quiet kind.
It had been a long time since I’d felt it.
By the time Walter finished the last door, the sun was sharper, melting through the fog and warming the deck.
“All set,” he said, handing me three new keys on a metal ring. “Front, back, side, basement. Every lock’s changed. Deadbolts reinforced.”
I took the keys, feeling their weight like armor.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“If anyone tries to get in now, you’ll know. And if they come back? Don’t open the door. Call the sheriff.”
His voice held no judgment, only caution born of experience.
“I will,” I said.
He tipped his cap and left, his truck rolling down the driveway until it disappeared into the trees.
For a moment, I stood there alone, holding the keys against my chest. They felt cold in my palm, unfamiliar but powerful.
My house was safe again.
At least for now.
Inside, my phone buzzed with a new message. I almost ignored it, but something in me compelled me to check.
It was from my mother, a different number—she’d used another phone.
Mara, you need to stop this. We are family. We will not be pushed out. This is our home too.
My throat clenched as I typed only five words.
Do not come back here.
I locked the screen before another response could appear.