I rest my forearm on the back of her seat, letting my hand brush the fall of her hair. “And maybe,” I add gently, “one day your boy’ll have a little brother. Or sister. Or three”
Her breath stops in her chest.
The truck feels too small for how much that truth takes up between us.
She swallows hard. “Caleb… you can’t say things like that.”
“I ain’t sayin’ it to scare you.” I let my thumb graze the back of her shoulder. “I’m sayin’ it because when I look at you, I see a life. A future. And I want it. With you, my brother, your boy and whatever babies come next.”
Her hand slips into mine, feeling familiar and sweet. We fall back into silence as the ranch rises in the distance. She holds my hand all the way down the long road, her thumb brushing mine like she’s daring to make peace with a futureshe never thought she’d have.
And somewhere in the back of my mind a picture forms so clear it nearly stops my heart.
Joelle on our porch, belly round with our child, her son toddling in the yard, chasing a dog or a chicken. Wade’s leaning against the rail with that quiet, satisfied look he gets when something in his world finally makes sense. And me beside them all, as our land stretches out before us.
It’s not a storybook future, but it’s picture-perfect in my eyes.
Chapter 21
Joelle
“I’ll take you,” Wade murmurs, touching the small of my back. “We’ll bring your boy home today.”
That single sentence steals the strength from my knees.
My boy. My baby. I’ve missed him so much it has doubled me over during private moments when Wade and Caleb were away from the ranch house.
Wade insists on driving, not framing it like an order in the clipped, practical voice he uses when he’s assigning chores, calling out instructions across the pasture or telling me what to do in the bedroom, but in that quiet, caring way he has, like the decision was made long before I finished my coffee.
I tuck my anxiety beneath a thin layer of hope before we head outside. Wade opens the truck door for me, and when I climb in, my hands are shaking so badly that I can’t settle them in my lap. He notices immediately. Of course he does. He shuts the door gently, rounds the hood, and slides intothe driver’s seat with a slow exhale like he’s bracing himself to shoulder the weight I’m carrying.
“You’re wound up like a barn cat in a storm,” he says, glancing at me with a grin meant to soothe. “There’s no need for that, pretty girl. We’re gonna get your baby boy, and we’re all comin’ home together.”
I try to smile, but it barely forms before dissolving. He sees that, too, and cups the back of my head, pulling me into a long, deep kiss that I melt into, letting it smooth through me as my big gruff cowboy reveals his dedication again and again, in all the ways that count.
When we pull away, Wade taps the wheel lightly, glancing over at me. “You wanna hear somethin’ stupid Rick did yesterday?”
I sniff, trying to breathe normally, already smiling at his efforts to distract me from my anxiousness. “Sure.”
“He tried hopping a fence instead of going around it. Boot caught the wire. Went face-first into a pile of horseshit.”
A startled laugh slips out of me, the image so vivid that I’m immediately sorry for poor Rick.
“And it wasn’t the kind that’s been out in the sun for a day or two, dried out to crisp. It was the fresh, steaming kind that sticks like glue.”
I cover my face, equal parts mortified and disgusted.
Wade grins. “Eli laughed so hard he almost fell over. Which is funny considering what happened tohimthe day before.”
“I don’t know if I can handle hearing more.”
“He got too close to a cow’s back end, and she pissed into his new boots.”
“Jesus,” I gasp. “Remind me never to leave the ranchhouse.”
“Oh, we’ll get you out into the fresh air. Get you riding horses and raising chickens. Maybe even planting a garden, if you think you’d enjoy it?”
“Yeah,” I say, loving the sound of his plans. After what Caleb said yesterday, it’s getting harder for me to deny that these men genuinely want me to stick around long term.
