“Thanks,” Tex replies evenly. “We like it.”
We.
That word still makes my chest tighten, even after six months.
Two hours later, the cabin is alive with voices and laughter.
I stand in the kitchen doorway, witnessing something I never thought I would see: Boone and Tex leaning against the porch railing, discussing fence maintenance, of all things.
Boone gestures, explaining post depth, while Tex listens and nods.
It’s not warmth exactly; it’s more like mutual respect.
For Boone, that’s practically a love confession.
Tank notices me staring and wanders over, beer in hand. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, surprised to find it true. “I’m better than good.”
He follows my gaze. “Boone’s intense. I like him.”
“Everyone’s scared of Boone.”
Tank shrugs. “I’ve seen scarier. Besides, he’s just worried about you. I get it.”
I glance at him. “You’ve been talking to my brothers?”
“Caleb and I compared notes on lumber,” Tank grins. “Your brother’s got good instincts. Terrible taste in trucks, but good instincts.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
In the living room, Weston is teaching Jessie some ridiculous card game he learned in a bar in Austin. Saint watches from the corner, likely cataloguing escape routes, but Sadie's hand is laced with his, and his shoulders are relaxed.
This is what it looks like, I realize.
Two families stitching together at the seams.
Later, as the sun sets and the porch fills with people watching the sky turn pink, Caleb finds me alone in the kitchen.
I’m cutting the third pie, the one I hid because the crust actually came out right.
“He’s good for you.”
I nearly drop the knife as I look at Caleb leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“I know.”
“I didn’t,” he admits quietly. “At first. I thought—” He hesitates, jaw tightening. “I thought he was taking advantage of a moment when you were vulnerable.”
“Caleb—”
“Let me finish.” His voice is rough. “I was wrong. I watched you tonight, and I—” He clears his throat. “You’re happy, Jane. Really happy. Not the kind you fake to keep everyone comfortable.”
My eyes sting. “I didn't know you could tell the difference.”
Caleb looks away, but I see the guilt he’s been carrying.
“We should’ve let you breathe sooner,” he says. “We should’ve—I don't know. Been better.”
