“Good, I’m going to go check on him.”
I’ve been in this house more times than I care to count, but today it feels so much different than it ever has before.
Walking down the familiar hallway toward Truett’s room, my heart pounds against my ribs like a caged bird. The floorboards creak under my boots, the same sounds I’ve heard a thousand times growing up here visiting Aubree, but now each step feels weighted with something I can’t name. Fear? Hope? Both?
I pause outside his door, my hand hovering over the handle. Through the thin wood, I can hear the soft sound of his breathing, steady and strong. Relief floods through me so completely that I have to lean against the doorframe for support.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and step inside.
The room is dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, but there’s enough light filtering through to see him clearly. Truett lies propped up against a mountain of pillows, his chest bare except for the white bandages wrapped around his torso. Dark stubble covers his jaw, making the sharp angles of his face even more pronounced. Even injured, even pale, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
His eyes are closed, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, and for a moment, I just stand there, drinking him in. Alive. Safe. Here.
“You gonna stand there all day staring at me, or are you gonna come closer?”
His voice, rough with sleep and medication, makes me jump. Those storm-gray eyes are open now, watching me with an intensity that makes my cheeks burn.
“I wasn’t staring,” I lie, crossing the room to the chair beside his bed. “I was just…checking to make sure you were still breathing.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Still breathing, thanks to you.”
I settle into the chair, suddenly nervous. “Cookie said you’ve been in and out all day. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got trampled by a bull and then shot,” he says with a dry laugh that turns into a wince. “But alive, which I hear I owe to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Truett. Anyone would have done the same thing.”
His expression grows serious, those gray eyes searching my face. “No, Nora. Not anyone. You saved my life. Cookie told me what you did. You saved my life.”
The weight in his voice, the raw gratitude, makes my throat tight. “I just did what needed to be done. You would have done the same for me.”
“In a heartbeat,” he says without hesitation. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less incredible. Thank you, Nora. For everything. For being there when I needed you most.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I have to look away before they spill over. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t…I can’t imagine…” My voice breaks, and I take a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. If something took you away from me permanently.”
The admission hangs between us, raw and honest. I’ve never said anything so vulnerable to him before, never let him see how deeply my feelings run. But last night changed everything. Coming so close to losing him stripped away all my carefully constructed walls.
When I finally look back at him, his expression has shifted to something I’ve never seen before, soft and wondering, like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Nora,” he says quietly, and my name on his lips sounds different somehow. Like a prayer, or a promise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say something like that.”
My heart stutters. “What do you mean?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “I mean, I feel the same way. The thought of something happening to you, of losing you…it would destroy me. You’ve been the one constant good thing in my life, even when I was too stupid to see it clearly.”
Hope blooms in my chest, wild and desperate. “Truett…”
But he holds up a hand, stopping me. Pain flickers across his features, not physical pain, but something deeper. “But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I’m worthy of you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re already…”
“No, I’m not.” His voice is firm, final. “Look at me, Nora. Really look. I’m lying here shot because I got mixed up in something dangerous. I’ve been making questionable choices trying to keep this ranch afloat, putting myself and everyone I care about at risk. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who can protect you, not someone who brings danger to your door.”
Frustration flares in my chest. “That’s not your decision to make. You don’t get to decide what I deserve or what I can handle.”
“Don’t I?” His jaw tightens. “When it’s your safety on the line? When it’s your life that could be in danger because of my choices?”
I want to argue, want to tell him he’s being ridiculous, but movement outside the window catches my eye. A familiar truck is pulling up the drive. Noah’s patrol vehicle. My stomach sinks.
