Jake rubbed a hand across his jaw, thinking of Sheriff Collins.
A man Jake had never trusted.
A man who smelled like trouble even when he tried to look holy.
Elise’s eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall yet.
“I knew if I stayed,” she whispered, “I would disappear too.”
Jake didn’t blink.
“So I slipped onto a freight wagon heading out of town,” she said. “Rode it as far as the river. Then I walked… until my legs gave out.”
Her voice cracked on the last part.
“And that’s how you found me.”
And then, for the first time since Jake had lifted her from the grass, Elise began to cry.
Not loud. Not hysterical.
Quiet, tired tears—the kind that come when someone has held everything in for too long and their body finally decides it can’t carry it alone anymore.
Jake stayed where he was, hands clasped, letting her cry without looking away.
He didn’t tell her to stop.
He didn’t tell her it would be fine.
He just let the truth have its moment.
When Elise’s breathing started to steady, Jake spoke, voice low.
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