The image of her standing frozen in the yard wouldn’t leave him. It was the look of someone whose world had gone sideways and they didn’t know how to fix it.
Whatever had her rattled was none of his business. But the sight of those big eyes bright with unshed tears made him want to take action.
What action, he didn’t know.
He forced his focus back to the task list.
He finished the morning calls, then grabbed a sidearm from the gun locker Carson showed him before he stepped out to see to business. Gabe made his way to the shooting range. The walk was far enough to help him clear his head, and when he reached the range, the familiar movements soothed him.
Checking the chamber, confirming the target, setting up his stance. Even the pull of air into his lungs and his finger perched on the trigger brought him into keen focus.
After he returned to the office, he accepted a delivery. By noon, the day settled into a rhythm he could get used to.
When Carson poked his head in the front office, Gabe looked up from the notes he made.
He gained his feet. “Ready for that look at the site?”
Carson shook his head. “Change of plans. Something came up.”
Gabe went still.Something.
He didn’t ask what. He had a feeling it involved the woman who’d shown up that morning with haunted eyes.
If he listened close enough, he could almost hear one heartbeat a little off-tempo from the rest, like Felicity St. James was still trying to find her balance.
He knew exactly how that felt.
* * * * *
Felicity sat at the big family table, fingers locked around a mug. Steam curled up in a fragrant wisp, and the room smelled like fresh toasted bread and coffee. On the Black Heart Ranch, coffee flowed the way streams trickled down the mountain.
Honor touched her shoulder, just a small brush that reminded Felicity she wasn’t alone. “If you’d like coffee instead of tea, I’ll get it for you.”
“No. I love chamomile.” Besides, the blend was supposed to bring calm, and if anyone needed that, it was Felicity.
Willow’s cowgirl boots tapped on the floor as she crossed the kitchen. She set a plate in front of Felicity.
She eyed the two triangles of toast and little pot of honey. Comfort food she couldn’t bring herself to eat.
“Eat what you can.” Concern pooled in Willow’s deep gray eyes that all the Malones shared.
Felicity nodded. The first sip of tea burned away the lump of salty tears she couldn’t clear and settled warm behind her breastbone. The ranch house was both homey and extravagant, with new and old, modern and rustic all blended into the perfect refuge for the growing family.
She could hear the other ladies moving around, starting their mornings. Layne’s quick laugh in the hallway, Shiloh’s lower murmur about schedules. Aspen’s light step crossing the front room and Rhae’s softer cadence, followed by the door shutting as she headed across the grounds to her therapy office in the lodge.
Finally, the low strains of Juliette’s violin wound through the walls and spread under the doors like a balm that blanketed the whole house in love and light.
Then there was the last woman who lived on the ranch, Felicity’s own sister. Honor curled both hands around her mug,her stare fixed on Felicity as if she could will her to speak with the force of one look.
“Breathe,” Honor reminded.
She swallowed another sip of tea, tasting flowers and a lingering sweetness that might hold a person together.
Felicity tried to take Honor’s advice. The air went in but got stuck until she forced it out with a shaky push. The second breath did a little better, though tears pricked hard at the edges of her vision, and she blinked fast to keep them from spilling over.
During her drive here, she didn’t remember when she started crying, only that she did.
She pulled in a gulp of oxygen that felt like the air was tearing, the same as all those ruined pages in her bookshop.
