“Deputy Benningfield said you got a partial plate number. We’ll try to run it and see if we can’t find out who owns the car and make sure they discover the benefits of public transportation.”

Assurance resonated from Sheriff Huggins’s voice, but her attention was on Noah. He was laughing as Charlie did some sort of duck dance while wearing an oxygen mask and a blue rubber glove on his head. When Charlie caught them staring in his direction, he slipped the oxygen mask off his face but the rubber glove gave a satisfying snap as he attempted to remove it, sending Noah into another round of laughter.

He was the perfect medicine—the perfect distraction from what Sheriff Huggins was implying. And a different kind of current charged through her body, easing some of the tension knotting her shoulders.

“He’s a good guy, and I’m not just saying that because he’s kin,” Sheriff Huggins said. “And I think he’s pretty taken with you.”

“And Noah,” Lane whispered.

“Well, you are sort of a package deal.” Sheriff Huggins smiled. “The kind of package that comes once in a lifetime and is irreplaceable. I’m glad you’re both safe.”

Lane tried to speak, but her words had dried up with the emotion balled in her throat. Sheriff Huggins wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. A second later, he released her and cleared his throat.

“Why don’t we go rescue Noah from the man desperately trying to win your heart?”

Winning. Charlie was winning her heart. In every way he was proving he meant exactly what he said when she told him about her depression. He wasn’t running off. No matter what her parents said, Charlie was redefining her idea of unconditional acceptance. And she was taken with him.

TWENTY

“WAKE UP!” A piercing voice echoed in Miguel’s ears, slicing through the numbing nightmare. “Miguel, open your eyes!”

A sharp slap stung his cheek, sending his teeth clattering. The pressure in his head pushed at the back of his eyeballs. Miguel ground his teeth, allowing the pain to remind him he was alive. He buried his face in the crook of his arm. What time was it? How long had he been out?

Cold liquid shocked his system into awareness. His eyes snapped open and focused on Annika standing before him with a glass in her hand. “I said, wake up.”

“Why . . .” Miguel forced his brain to work through the fog. The orange glow of the setting sun sent beams of light through his house. Lane. She was here. And Noah. The pressure behind Miguel’s eyes began to build . . . the headache. “What-what was in that bottle?”