“It’s not Evan I’m worried about.” She stopped pacing to stare down the empty drive again. “It’s Anson. Being in town. Around people.”
River’s usual easy smile faded. “He told you about that, huh?”
“Not really. The girls mentioned it the other night.” She sank into the chair beside him, giving up on pacing for the moment. “Why doesn’t he leave the ranch?”
“Ah, that’s not really my story to tell, but...” He sighed, glancing toward the ranch entrance. “Until this summer, Anson hadn’t voluntarily left this place in years. Like, literally years. He was so institutionalized when he left prison that public spaces became... hard for him. Too many people, too much noise, too many variables he can’t control.”
“But he went anyway. For me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Maggie. In the five years I’ve known him, Anson’s left the ranch exactly ten times, and four of those times were just this past summer. I counted because what can I say? I get bored easily, and it’s so rare. Each time was for something major—like when Nessie’s bakery burned down or when we had to track down her kid. And each time, it damn near broke him.” River leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He comes back shaking. Can’t talk. Sometimes can’t even make it to the forge without Walker or Boone helping him. Takes him days to get right again.”
“Oh, God.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything.”
“Of course he didn’t. He’s Anson.” River’s tone was gentle. “Look, I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you because you should know what it means that he got in that truck today. For you.”
She couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. Anson had faced his demons for her. Walked straight into his personal nightmare because she needed him to.
“Truck coming,” River said, straightening in his chair.
Maggie was on her feet before she registered moving. Bear’s black pickup rumbled up the drive, snow crunching beneath the tires. It hadn’t even fully stopped before she was down the porch steps.
The passenger door swung open, and Anson climbed out, his movements stiff. Even from twenty feet away, she could see how his hands shook, how his shoulders hunched forward like he was bracing for an attack.
She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. Just ran to him, boots kicking up snow, and threw her arms around his solid form.
For a heartbeat, he went completely rigid. Then his arms came up and wrapped around her like she might break if he held too tight. Or maybe like he might break if she pulled away. His heart hammered against her cheek, fast and hard enough that she felt it through his jacket.
She was vaguely aware of River leaving the porch and going over to talk to Bear and X, still over by the truck. Then she tuned them all out and just focused on Anson.
“I know what that cost you.” She tipped her head back to meet his gaze and didn’t try to hide the tears that blurred her vision.
He just tightened his hold and curled around her. “Worth it. Didn’t want you scared anymore.”
She pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—forge smoke and cold winter air. If she breathed in nothing else for the rest of her life, she’d be perfectly happy about that. Safe in his arms, with snow falling around them and his heartbeat gradually slowing against her ear.
“Did he delete it?” she asked finally, her voice muffled against his jacket.
“Yes. The post and all the photos.” His hands were steadier now, where they rested against her back. “Kid won’t bother you again. He was stupid but didn’t mean harm.”
“I know he didn’t, but…”
“It still scared you.”
“Yes. And I hate that Landry has turned every fan interaction into something I need to fear.”
He pulled back just enough to cup her face with his still-trembling hands. The roughness of his palms against her skin sent warmth spiraling through her. “When that asshole finds you this time, you won’t be alone.”
When.
Not if.
They all knew he was coming, and she appreciated that he didn’t try to sugar-coat it.
But standing in the snow with him, his large frame blocking the bitter wind, she felt something she hadn’t in months—truly safe.
She caught his wrists, thumbs brushing over the pulse points where his heartbeat still raced.
“Anson, I—” The words caught in her throat. How could she possibly express what it meant that he’d faced his demons for her? That he’d walked straight into his nightmare because she needed him to?
