How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

She turned around calmly.

Watts was standing just a few steps behind, his expression unreadable.

He watched her, thoughtful, as if weighing something only he understood.

"How am I supposed to sleep when there's still no word from Jarrod?" she replied, sidestepping his question with the safest answer she could muster.

Watts slipped one hand into his pocket, a faint, elusive smile tugging at the corners of his eyes. "I thought maybe you just didn't trust me. Maybe you were planning to run away."

His words sent a chill crawling up Elodie's spine for no reason she could name.

She met his gaze head-on. “It's the middle of the night. I'm in a foreign country. Where exactly would I go?"

Watts shrugged. "Fair point. Things are a little chaotic around here right now."

Quietly, Elodie slipped her phone back into her coat pocket, then started walking slowly toward the house. "How are my colleagues doing? Are they alright?"

"They're fine. I'm planning to arrange for them to head home tomorrow," Watts replied breezily, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

But Elodie's guard was up-more than ever before.

bright, easygoing young man, open and sincere. But after everything that had

walked toward the house with a calm, unhurried stride, giving

simply matched her

thought about it before, but now, just strolling quietly like this,

looked at

talking to her, so he raised an eyebrow and replied, "Depends on work, really. But, to be honest, things aren't looking stable around

gaze darkened. "Mr. Aldridge, you do realize my husband's still missing? Would it really be appropriate for me

said "my husband" made Watts' smile falter, just

minded that title before, but now, hearing it from her

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the railing sitting so he could look at Elodie at eye level. For once,

Your safety comes first. Besides, everyone back home is worried about you. Wouldn't it be better to go

he spoke, something flickered in his eyes—something he himself didn't fully grasp. He reached out, as if

it was different. Other women held no appeal

years, aside from Patricia Aldridge, no one had ever

made him want to get

took a

touch, deliberately and

movement froze the faint smile at the corner of

seemed to see straight through her—her