Boone is still Boone—gruff, uncomfortable with feelings, and prone to expressing love through insults. But last month, he sent me a box of fancy coffee beans with a note that read:Tex says you can’t make coffee. Prove him wrong.
That’s Boone-speak forI miss you.
I haven’t proven Tex wrong yet, but I’m working on it.
By four, the cabin is bustling.
Tank arrives first because Tank is always early. He brings his tall, red-headed wife, Jessie. The moment she sees me, she pulls me into a hug.
“Look at you,” she says, pulling back to study my face. “You’re glowing. You’re glowing.”
“I made pie,” I reply, as if that explains everything.
She grins. “I heard. Kitty already warned me about the crust.”
I sigh. “Of course, she did.”
Saint and Sadie arrive next. Saint is still the grumpiest person I've ever met—Tex’s words—but he softens around Sadie in a way that makes my heart ache. Sadie had a rough time of it before she arrived at Havenridge. She probably needed this place more than any of us, thanks to a murderous, psychotic stepmother. She catches my eye across the room and gives me a small wave, shy but warm.
Then the trucks pull up. Three of them because my brothers have never done anything by halves.
I watch from the window as they park, my heart climbing into my throat. Tex appears at my side, sensing my pulse quickening.
“Breathe,” he murmurs.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re vibratin’.”
“Same thing.”
He lets out a low chuckle and squeezes my hand.
The door opens, and there they are: Caleb first, carrying a case of beer like a peace offering; Weston behind him, already scanning the room for tension he can smooth over; and Boone last, jaw tight, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Caleb’s eyes find mine immediately.
“Jane,” he says.
One word containing a whole paragraph of meaning.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice shaking a little.
Weston crosses the room and wraps me in a hug before I can brace for it. He smells like home: hay, motor oil, and the laundry detergent Mom used to use.
“Missed you,” he says gruffly. “It’s too quiet without you.”
My throat tightens. “You mean the kitchen is too dirty?”
He pulls back, grinning. “Both.”
Boone hovers near the door, as if contemplating an escape.
I catch his eye and raise my eyebrows. “You coming in, or are you going to stand there looking constipated all night?”
Tank snorts from the couch, clearly amused. He’s taken to me like a golden retriever with a new chew toy, finding mehilarious,which drives Tex a little crazy. Like me, Tank thought he took up too much space in the world until Jessie came along. They balance each other perfectly, just like Tex and me.
Boone’s jaw tightens, but he steps inside and closes the door. “Nice place,” he grunts.
