Page 103 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

I didn’t sleep much.Every creak of the house snapped my eyes open.Around three in the morning, Bagel lifted his head with a low grumble, and I damn near climbed over Gia reaching for the gun in my nightstand before the dog settled again.

By dawn, my nerves felt stripped raw.I went out to help at the dairy barn mostly because I needed movement.I needed something to do besides lying there imagining every way this could go bad.

When I came back inside, Gia was already dressed.She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around me before I could ask if she was leaving for good.

“I have to go home,” she said softly.“I need to check on Misty.”

My hands locked onto her waist.“Call me if anything feels off,” I said immediately.“Anything.I don’t care how small.”

She nodded, but I could already feel the distance forming—the pull toward handling it alone.Fear tasted metallic in the back of my throat.I pulled her against me and kissed her hard enough to make a point of it.

ChapterThirty-Five

GIA

Misty wasfine when I checked on her this morning, which seemed a lifetime ago.I slogged through appointments all day, which at least kept me indoors.Safe.By the time I finally dragged myself home, exhaustion sat so heavy in my bones I could barely think past the promise of sleep.

When I stepped inside, voices drifted from the living room.I slowed.That wasn’t right.

Misty had barely been getting out of bed lately.Most days she slept until noon, curled beneath blankets while the treatments hollowed her out piece by piece.Her latest labs were worse.The MRI showed no improvement.Her doctor had mentioned an experimental treatment in the careful tone people used when they’d already given up.

A low laugh carried down the hallway.Male.My pulse stumbled.

I eased my phone from my pocket and hit Timothy’s name before I rounded the corner.The call started ringing.I slid the phone back into my scrub top pocket without looking at the screen.

“Look who finally decided to join the family meeting.”My father’s voice hit me first, mean and mocking.

Then I saw the shotgun.

He sat on the sofa beside Misty, the barrel resting across his thigh while his hand stroked it absently, almost lovingly.The sight stopped me cold.

Something was wrong with his face.He wasn’t angry or drunk.He was smiling, but it wasn’t normal.It was something wide and twitching, like he was struggling to hold himself together.

Misty looked at me with swollen red eyes.Her hands were duct taped together.

“What’s the crisis?”I asked, forcing the words out flat and calm.I used the same detached tone I reserved for panicked clients.

His grin widened.“Well…” He leaned back against the couch cushions.“We’re taking a little field trip.”

Cold crept up my spine.I took one careful step farther into the room, forcing myself not to look at the front door.I had no chance of reaching it before he lifted the rifle.

“Misty?”I asked softly.

She gave the tiniest shake of her head.Fear poured off her so hard it thickened the air.

“Hold out your hands, Regina.”

“No.”

The crack of the slap exploded through the room.Misty flew sideways against the arm of the sofa with a choked cry.My heart lurched into my throat.

Blood welled instantly from the split in her lip.

My father calmly looked back at me like he hadn’t just hit a dying woman hard enough to throw her across the couch.

“Hold out your hands,” he repeated.“Or I’ll kill her right here.”

The rifle never moved from his lap.