“How?” I ask.
Boone’s voice is bitter. “Town gossip. Some guy at the feed store couldn’t wait to tell us our sister got sold to a SEAL.”
Jane would hate that phrasing. I hate it too.
Caleb’s gaze holds mine. “Is she safe here?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Are you sleeping with her?” Weston’s voice is tight.
Boone’s head snaps to Weston. “What the?—”
A muscle flickers in Caleb's jaw.
I keep my voice even. “That’s none of your damn business.”
Weston’s eyes sharpen. “It becomes our business if she’s being used.”
That word strikes a nerve.Used.As if Jane lacks agency and can’t choose what she wants. As if her desire is something that happens to her instead of something she owns.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Jane is not being used. She’s being cared for. Respected. And she’s being chosen.”
Boone scoffs. “Chosen. By you.”
“Yes,” I reply, standing my ground. “By me.”
Caleb’s gaze hardens. “Are you in love with her?”
The question is a trap and a test, but I don’t care. I answer anyway, because if there’s one thing I've learned since Jane Cutter walked into my life, it’s that silence protects nothing—it only allows misunderstandings to fester.
“Yes.”
Boone goes still.
Weston’s mouth parts.
Caleb looks shocked, then resigned.
I point toward the field. “And currently, she thinks she ruined everything. She believes you came here and proved every fear she’s ever had about herself.”
Caleb’s throat bobs as he swallows hard.
Weston’s voice is quiet. “We didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” I cut in. “But intent doesn’t matter when the impact hits that hard.”
Boone’s shoulders sag as his anger gives way to guilt.
“We just want her home,” Caleb’s voice has a harsh tone.
I shake my head. “You want her safe.”
Caleb’s eyes narrow. “Same thing.”
“No,” I respond. “Safe isn’t the same as caged.”
Silence envelops us for several long seconds.
