Page 96 of Three Steps Behind

She didn’t give him time to finish. Just stepped into the hall, then quietly shut the door to her apartment.

She let out a shaky exhale. Unable to resist, she looked through the peephole, and there he stood in his doorway, leaning against the frame. He rubbed his scruff, then finally shut the door.

She leaned against the back of hers and sank to the floor, hot tears pricking at her eyes. Soon they spilled over her cheeks, but she kept the sobs at bay for fear Dalton or whomever he had listening would hear.

Even when she’d thought Dalton was a good guy, she wouldn’t have shed a tear over him. What did that say about Aubry and how she felt about him?

She cried silent tears, Aubry’s words reverberating through her mind. “Beloved.” She could never be God’s beloved. She didn’t even believe in Him, but something was changing, and she couldn’t seem to stop it. Something or someone was working on her heart, and it terrified her.

Shake it off.

She needed her head to get in gear for Dalton’s surprise. She just hoped it wasn’t a bad surprise. Prayed he hadn’t figured things out, or she was a dead woman.

Thirty-Nine

HARPER WOKE, surprised she’d slept, but her body had broken down to the point that it needed sleep whether she had nightmares or not. Flashbacks of Amanda and Tracey being pulled from the container. Her, helpless to stop any of it, to save anyone as they were tugged screeching out of that dark box, awaiting an even darker fate.

Her chest ached, her stomach hollow. She glanced up to find Deck asleep in the recliner.

His hair was mussed, and his face rested on the scrolled wooden railing next to the recliner. He looked adorable and just what she needed to cheer up, at least a little. Full happiness, outside of Deck, would be hard. The trauma and sheer pain of what happened wouldn’t leave for a long time, but with Deck . . . happiness abounded. It was weird how pain and joy could coexist, but the Bible talked about it.

Despite still being angry about what she’d been through, she couldn’t begrudge God for bringing Deck into her life and letting her meet such a brave, supportive woman as Tracey. Nor could she not thank Him for letting her escape—the only one to make it to safety from the container. She had been wrong. God had been with her all along. She’d just been too scared and hurt to see it. She didn’t understand why He’d allowed her team’s kidnapping, but she didn’t understand why He allowed numerous other things. It came down to trust, and she trusted God was good, even when traumatic events happened in this fallen world. And He had her. He’d died for her, and pain, sorrow, and trauma wouldn’t exist in eternity.

Deck shifted, the scrolled pattern of the railing imprinted on his cheek. She bit back a laugh, not wanting to wake him. But it was too late.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Did you sleep?”

“I did.”

“Good. You needed it.”

“Apparently you did too.” She walked over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’m going to go get us coffee.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Carry On Wayward Son” played on his phone, and he pulled it from his sweatpants pocket. Looking at the text, his eyes widened.

She paused. “What’s up?”

“Joel thinks Nick may run.”

“He didn’t come back from the golf trip last night?”

“He did, but apparently Joel talked with Morgan this morning.”

“The mistress?” Harper was thankful they’d been unable to question the woman yesterday since she was with Nick. Restraining herself would have been difficult, to say the least.

“That’s the one.”

She rested her hand on her hip. “And?”

“Nick was trying to talk her into moving with him somewhere overseas. Joel’s heading over as soon as he can make it, but he had a call up in Taos for domestic violence and will be close to an hour.”

She started running for the foyer as he speed-dialed Joel.

“Where are you going?”

“To get dressed.”