It happened on a Tuesday.
Evelyn was in her room folding clean laundry when she heard Wade’s boots in the hall and Luke’s name spoken once, sharply. Then footsteps. Then her door opening without a knock.
Wade stepped inside and closed it behind him.
That small click of the latch seemed to swallow the whole house.
He crossed the room slowly. Without his public smile, he looked different. Less handsome. More precise. Like a blade set on the table.
“I know what you’ve been doing,” he said.
Evelyn laid a folded chemise in the drawer. “That narrows nothing.”
“With his leg.” He smiled thinly. “Don’t be clever. Stop.”
She turned to face him. “Or what?”
His voice dropped. “Or I’ll take everything he has left. Not the ranch.” He tilted his head. “Him.”
