Destined (The Rangers of Ridge County #1)

Chapter Forty-Two

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

MILLIE

O ver the next few weeks, the Ranger siblings took turns babysitting me. Much to my annoyance, I was volleyed among the three of them—bouncing between Emmett’s house, Rory’s apartment, Sips, and the Sheriff’s Department. It wasn’t a sustainable routine for any of us.

Last night, I tried to convince Emmett I could stay by myself. But then I had a night terror.

Visions of a hooded figure chasing me through the dark rattled me enough I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep and was ready to go before Emmett this morning. That earned me quite a few quizzical looks during our drive into town. Thankfully, he didn’t press me on my sudden change of heart. Which was for the best, since I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He dropped me off with Greer, and I was set up with my laptop on a table in the corner. I’d started tackling my mountain of to-dos when the door opened. My eyes shot up to find a patron walking toward the display case. The guy had on a rumpled jumpsuit with numerous grease stains, suggesting he was more than likely a mechanic. He placed his order with Greer, waited patiently, then left without so much as a glance my way. But I watched him like a hawk.

He was the third customer to catch my attention. Every single person seemed suspicious now—my night terror having triggered anxiety like nothing I ever experienced before. My body vibrated—overstimulated by the crushing emotions coursing through it.

How was I supposed to know what was real versus something my mind fabricated to fill in the blanks?

My breathing became labored as my mind spiraled.

Greer magically appeared in front of me. Her hands reached out to grab mine as she lowered herself so we were eye level.

Her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear anything she said over the roaring in my ears.

Letting go of my hands only to wrap her arms tightly around me, her voice finally broke through the haze.

“Breathe with me, Millie. Deep breath in…slow on the exhale,” she repeated those instructions over and over until my breathing returned to normal. Or as close to normal as I could get after being on the precipice of a panic attack.

It was on one of those deep inhales that the smell of cinnamon and sugar filled my nostrils calming me even more.

“Thank you,” I whispered as she pulled away. It was the only thing I could offer in the moment. Dropping my head to the table, defeat seeped in.

This was ridiculous.

The door opened again, and I tensed. I couldn’t do this all day long.

No matter how ludicrous of a response that panic attack had been, the turmoil was very real. I was tied up in knots and had only been here an hour. The reality of where I was slapped me in the face—making my head throb to the beat of the techno-pop mix quietly playing overhead. Maybe it would be best if I moved into the kitchen.

This was a place of business, after all, and the last thing I wanted to do was scare off any of Greer’s customers with my dramatics. Especially not after all the trouble I was putting her through.

Rory took the morning off to catch up on sleep. She was trying so hard to keep us all pumped full of positivity, but I knew the weight of the last few weeks had taken a toll.

Abigail made the trip from the Valley a handful of times on the days she wasn’t babysitting her grandson. I loved getting to hang out with her, but I hated monetizing the only free time she had during the week.

Emmett was running himself ragged trying to hunt down leads all while tackling his daily duties. He came home every night exhausted, and it made me angry. I wanted answers, but not at the expense of everyone else around me. Especially not him. But he wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t ask him to.

An out of breath, “What happened?” had my head rising and my brows furrowing. I looked from Emmett to Greer, confused.

“I promised him I would tell him if anything happened,” she confessed as a guilty expression took shape on her face.

“What happened?” Emmett asked again, impatiently this time. He looked lethal standing there in front of me. Stance wide, eyes wild—as if he was more than willing, if not eager, to neutralize any and every threat.

“Chill out,” Greer said with a roll of her eyes. “I think being here in the shop might be a little too much for Millie today?” While she stated a fact, she’d posed it as a question. A small distinction that some would overlook, but not me. Not when it gave me some of my power back. And the compassionate smile she sent my way told me she was well aware of that.

And that was the thing about trauma. It could make you feel helpless. Hopeless. It would tear you down without caring if you had the means of picking yourself back up. But I had support. People who had proved they would drop everything, on a moment’s notice.

If that didn’t make them family, I wasn’t sure what would.

With concern etched on his face, Emmett nodded. “I have some things I need to take care of before we can head home. How about working from my office for a few hours?”

As I considered his offer, my inbox chimed indicating a new message.

Shit .

I’d really hoped to get more done today. A couple of accounts had immediate needs, and I wouldn’t be at my best if I stayed here. Although I had reached out to each of them vaguely explaining my brief leave of absence, I could only expect so much grace before they started looking elsewhere for their marketing.

“I can do that,” I agreed, shutting my laptop. Together, we made quick work of packing the few things I had brought with me while Greer hustled behind the counter to put my Earl Grey in a to-go cup.

Emmett and I reached for my planner at the same time, his hand flattening on top of mine. We were much closer when I looked up this time—our faces mere inches apart. His expression softened, and the world disappeared in that moment—like dust in the wind.

His brow cocked, and the corner of his mouth tilted upward in a playful expression I was starting to become obsessed with. A full blown grin stretched across his face as he took my bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Nothing screams manliness quite like carrying a woman’s bag for her,” I teased, though it was true. I found it extremely attractive that he wanted to take care of me—not only in pivotal, life or death moments but in the mundane, too. A favorite meal cooked. An eye mask purchased. A cat sheltered. A space shared. The list went on and on.

And the thing about Emmett was—he didn’t do any of this for recognition or favor. He did it because he cared, and I was finally starting to realize just how much.

If I gathered up the courage to fall, I knew he would catch me.

We had just stepped outside when the door to the law office next to Sips opened. A man who appeared close to Emmett’s age stumbled out. Though that was the only similarity he shared with him. His dark hair was greasy and flipped out against the hood of his jacket. He was thin with haunted eyes. Adjusting his zipper as he moved aside, a face I was unfortunately familiar with followed behind. Emmett’s hand went to my back as Frank Bennett straightened before me.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he hissed, “Where’s my money, girl?” The lack of sympathy for what I’d been through had me grappling for an answer.

Emmett stepped in front of me, shielding me from the men. “Frank,” he warned before turning to the other man—the one shying away from the confrontation. “Good to see you, Dustin. How long have you been in town?” Emmett asked, assuming the role of the approachable sheriff.

This man who, according to Emmett, was the actual owner of my house stood in front of us shifting anxiously from foot to foot. He glanced up and down the sidewalk before briefly looking at Emmett who was patiently waiting for his reply.

“A little while,” was all Dustin said.

“Where are you staying since the farmhouse is rented out as well as a crime scene?” Emmett questioned.

Dustin looked to his uncle as if asking for permission to continue speaking. “I bounce around,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s a motel between here and the Valley,” he added, stumbling over the words.

His anxiety was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. Grabbing Emmett’s upper arm, I peeked around his wide frame—eyeballing Frank.

His complexion had yellowed since the last time I saw him, his expression souring as he met my stare.

“I want my money, bitch!” Frank spat. And in the blink of an eye, Emmett pinned him against the brick of the building.

“Watch your mouth,” Emmett snarled. “Oh, and you won’t be getting any more money from Millie. Because you will let her out of that fucking lease,” he added menacingly.

“Says who?” Frank grunted, his face turning a deep shade of red as Emmett kept a firm grip on the foul man’s collar.

“The law, Frank,” Emmett said, dropping his hold and stepping back toward me. “The house is being condemned.”

“You can’t do that!” Frank barked, causing Dustin to flinch. “Not after this screw-up finally signed over the deed.”

“Someone from the county will be paying you a visit then in the coming days,” Emmett said as he shrugged then nodded to Dustin and took my hand. We were past them, moving in the direction of the department when Frank stormed off. Mumbling something under his breath once Emmett was out of earshot that sounded a lot like, “You’ll pay for this.”

But it wasn’t Frank’s crude words that stuck with me as we walked away, it was the feeling of Dustin’s eyes following us.

Much to his word, we were home by lunch. Though, Emmett disappeared with a stack of files and his laptop after making sure I was settled on the sectional in the basement.

My own laptop was open but pushed off to the side. I was hoping tomorrow would be more productive than today. After commandeering Emmett’s desk while we were at the department, I had every intention of clearing my inbox until Lainey stopped by to see Theo. She had come to visit me once in the hospital which was when we officially met.

We spent a solid hour catching up and gossiping, and it was just what I needed to shake off the craziness of the morning.

Pulling my laptop back toward me, I activated the video chat—it was time for my bi-weekly proof of life phone call. The ringing commenced quickly followed by a loud, “Millie. Millie, are you there? Why can’t I see you?”

Something that was funny the first time, though, not so much anymore.

“Mom, you are too close to the screen.” I sighed while shaking my head.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to hear me?” she asked, sitting back in her seat.

“Yes, Mom. I’m sure.”

“Oh, good!” she exclaimed, sounding surprised. Like this wasn’t our eighth video call this month. “What are you up to today, dear?”

“Being very unproductive, unfortunately,” I muttered. It was so hard to give myself the same grace I offered others. My clients had all been understanding, but I still felt like I should be doing more. Although, looking at a computer screen had been migraine inducing up until last week. And I’d still worked through the pain and nausea.

“So, you’ll simply try again tomorrow,” my dad said as he popped up inside the frame, kissing my mother on the forehead. “There’s my Millie Bug! How are you feeling?”

The technical difficulties paled in comparison to the time I got to spend with them like this. They always lifted my spirits, without even trying. Our conversation continued with them sharing they booked a luxury vacation to Spruce Heights in a little over a month.

The only way I’d been able to persuade my parents to stay home through all of this was with these calls and a promise that I would visit soon. Though, it appeared they would be coming to me. And that was a little nerve-racking considering I might have downplayed what happened, only informing them after I’d been discharged from the hospital and settled in at Emmett’s. Definitely left out the home invasion part, and I was certain to get an ear full about that if they ever found out.

I was glad they would be coming well after my follow-up appointment. An appointment where I hoped to get a clean bill of health to move about without any restrictions. And I was already looking forward to the massages we would get while they were here.

Spruce Heights was a ski town about thirty minutes up the mountain, with a resort bearing the same name at its epicenter. It was best known for winter sports like skiing and snowboarding, but during the summer months, it leaned heavily into its spa amenities—targeting an older demographic. And with my help, the owner had marketed that fact very well.

We ended our call shortly after that, and I drifted off to rerun episodes of Beachside Bargain Buy. But I didn’t nap for very long before hunger had me awake and weighing my options for dinner.

Making my way upstairs, I passed Jet lounging like a king on his cat throne. He loved the three-tier cat stand Emmett purchased for him. My roommate even put the eyesore in the main living space, in front of the picture window.

After everything, it seemed I wasn’t the only one with a soft spot for the black cat.

I sauntered into the kitchen, starting my forage in the pantry then moving to the refrigerator. I stared inside at the array of food I hadn’t helped purchase. As I pulled out the ingredients for spaghetti, my stomach pitted. Sure, I was making enough for Emmett, too, but still. What was a cooked meal in comparison to all he had done for me?

Guess I’d find out soon enough.