Marisol stood on the porch, her arms wrapped around her middle, staring out at the dark pasture. I stepped up next to her. Close, but not touching.
She didn’t look at me right away. “They really will protect us,” she said.
“Yes.”
“All of them.”
“All of them,” I confirmed.
She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to accept that.”
“You don’t have to earn it,” I told her. “You’re here. That’s enough.”
Her eyes finally shifted to mine. “What happens when this is over?”
The question was quiet, but it carried everything… the line we crossed in Valor Springs… the night we spent in my bed… the fact that she was standing on my porch now, wrapped in my flannel, with my brothers on patrol outside.
I could have lied. Could have told her we’d figure it out, could have promised forever when I didn’t know what tomorrow looked like.
Instead, I said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Her mouth tightened. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one I’ve got,” I said. “Right now, your brother is safe. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly, like she was filing the words away for later. “Okay,” she whispered.
The wind lifted her hair and carried the scent of her into my space, warm and familiar. My hands itched to pull her close. To remind her she wasn’t alone. To remind myself too. But I didn’t. I just stood next to her, keeping watch over the land and the woman who’d somehow become the most dangerous and precious thing in my life.
She was safe now. And I knew, with a kind of certainty that scared the hell out of me, that I would burn down anything that tried to take that away.
CHAPTER 9
MARISOL
After several days,Broken Bend started to feel like a place where I could catch my breath, maybe even breathe easier. And that scared the hell out of me.
The first morning I woke up without my chest tight with fear, I stared up at the ceiling of the cabin and tried to convince myself it was just exhaustion finally catching up to me. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of ranch life outside.
I checked on Lucas. He was asleep in the bunk room, sprawled across the mattress like he owned the place. His backpack sat by the door where he’d dropped it the night before, still dusty from wandering the pasture with one of Mama Mae’s boys.
He looked… normal… safe. And instead of relief, guilt hit me so hard I had grab onto the doorframe before my knees gave out. I rubbed my palms over my face. I’d spent my entire adult life holding everything together with duct tape and determination. Two jobs. Online classes. Bills paid down to the penny. Lucas fed, clothed, and loved. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t lean. I didn’t fall apart. And now I was living in a cabin on a ranch guarded by men with guns.
How had I let it come to this? I hated how easy it was starting to feel.
I got dressed and stepped onto the porch, letting the cool morning air clear my head. The pasture stretched wide and open, mist clinging to the grass like the world hadn’t fully woken up yet. Horses grazed near the fence. Somewhere down the hill, a diesel engine turned over.
Caleb stood near the barn, talking with one of his foster brothers. He had a coffee in one hand and a radio clipped to his belt. His hat sat low on his head, shadowing his eyes, but when he noticed me, his shoulders squared automatically. Like I’d triggered something in him just by existing.
He ended the conversation with a nod and walked over. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah. Lucas did too.”
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. “Good.”
We stood there in the quiet, the space between us heavy with everything still unsaid.
I took a breath. “I’ve been thinking.”
