“Until you were caught,” she said softly.
His expression hardened. “Someone got greedy. Started skimming supplies to sell on the side. When the investigation started, I took the fall. Couldn’t let them come after everyone.”
“You protected your team.”
“It was my operation. My responsibility.”
Outside, the wind picked up, driving snow against the window in soft taps. The heat kicked on with a dull roar, pushing warm air into the space between them.
“Do you regret what you did?” Johanna asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Getting caught?” He gave a tight shrug. “Sure. Going to prison wasn’t exactly on my five-year plan.”
“No. Taking the supplies in the first place.”
“No.” The word came without hesitation. “Mason can walk now. Teixeira’s son is alive. Robinett’s back with his family and working construction again.” He leaned forward slightly, intensity radiating from him. “The system failed them. I didn’t.”
There it was. The core of Jonah Reed—a man whose entire identity was built around being the solution when systems failed. The mission above all else, regardless of personal cost.
“So when you say you have nothing to contribute here,” she ventured, connecting the threads, “what you mean is you don’t see a mission that needs you specifically.”
He sat back, the intensity fading as quickly as it had appeared. “This place has everything under control. You, Walker, and Boone already have your roles. What am I supposed to do, brush horses for the rest of my life?”
“Is that so terrible?”
“It’s not enough.” Frustration bled into his tone. “I spent three years in prison thinking about all the people I couldn’t help anymore. All the veterans falling through the cracks while I sat in a cell. And now I’m here, and there’s still nothing I can do that matters.”
The pain behind his words struck her. Here was a man who measured his worth solely by his usefulness to others, who couldn’t conceive of a life without a mission to define him.
“Jonah,” she said gently, “who are you when you’re not saving everyone else?”
He blinked, then looked away, his breathing shallow.
“I don’t know.” His voice cracked on the words. “I’ve never just... been me. It was always son, then Marine, then supplier, then inmate.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to just exist without a purpose.”
“So you keep yourself apart. You spend time with the horses because they don’t ask you to define yourself. They just accept what you offer in the moment.”
“Something like that.”
“But with people—with Walker, with Boone, with me—you’d have to figure out who Jonah Reed is beyond his function.”
His silence was answer enough.
“Did you know,” Johanna said finally, “that Walker is planning to expand the equine program here?”
Jonah looked up, wariness and interest warring in his expression. “No.”
“He wants to bring in more rescue horses and eventually develop a full therapeutic riding program for veterans from the surrounding area.” She kept her tone casual, as if sharing a piece of gossip rather than offering a lifeline. “Problem is, neither he nor Boone knows the first thing about setting something like that up. The paperwork alone would be a nightmare.”
Understanding dawned slowly on Jonah’s face. “You think… I could help?”
“I think someone with experience in logistics, who loves horses and understands both military structure and medical needs, who’s already proven they can build something from nothing...” She shrugged. “That kind of person could make a real difference here.”
“That’s not why Walker brought me to the ranch.”
“No. He brought you here because you needed a place to land after prison, same as Boone.” She leaned forward, holding his gaze. “But what you make of that opportunity is entirely up to you.”
Jonah absorbed this, his posture relaxing incrementally. “I’ll think about it.”
