Bronco shakes his head and mutters, "You never could do easy, bro." Then to me adds, "Welcome, Gemma. Come inside so I can introduce you to my woman."
"Go ahead," Dallas murmurs.
"Are you sure?"
He nods. "Anson wants to talk to me."
"Oh. Okay." There’s something between the two men that’s not exactly friendship. Respect, maybe. I wonder how they know each other.
Dallas drops a kiss to my temple and nudges me toward his brothers.
I follow them up the porch steps into the house. At the threshold, I look back.
Anson places his hand on Dallas's shoulder, and it looks like some sort of silent understanding passes between them.
"No one else knows this," Bronco murmurs for my ears only. "Anson trained Dallas while they were in the military. He's the best sharpshooter on the planet, and like my bro, he worked the private sector for a time. If anyone knows what to say, it's him."
"Say about what?"
“Blackwood knows what it costs to come back from the dark… and how to live after. How to let himself be loved. Things I think Dallas is finally ready to hear."
My heart swells. Coming home was the right thing for Dallas to do. I just hope he can let himself enjoy it.
Bronco leads me into the open kitchen and introduces me to his fiancé, Camille. She’s sweet and a little shy, and wearing a pair of bright turquoise cowboy boots.
She's there with Ford's adorable fiance, Ember, and Anson's wife, Ellie who is pulling a tin of cupcakes from the oven. She's bright, bubbly, and the total opposite of Anson from what I can tell.
Their son, Grayson, is crawling on the rug in the living room, pretending he's a puppy.
The love and laughter in this room are refreshing in a way that makes my heart ache. I've never had this. If Dallas ever has, it’s been a very long time.
Could there ever be a future where we settle here? With friends and family who love and accept us? I think even my mom might thrive here, now that Arthur's gone.
Part of me is too afraid to hope. But my heart is already putting in the wish.
For Dallas. For family. With love and acceptance.
I step fully into the warmth of the kitchen, into laughter and flour-dusted counters and women who look at me like I already belong. It hits me all at once—this is what safety feels like.
Not just protection from bullets, but from loneliness.
Outside, the man I love is preparing to walk back into the fire for me. And one look at Bronco tells me, this time, he won’t walk in alone.
Dallas and Anson walk in a few minutes later.
A weight has lifted from Dallas’s shoulders. He’s not completely at ease, but better.
Bronco introduces him to the women, then lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you home, bro.”
Ford grips his forearm and adds, “It’s where you belong.”
Dallas swallows. “Mom and Dad?”
“They have a house down in Arizona now,” Ford says. Something shifts in his eyes. “Maybe that will change if you decide to stay.”
Dallas meets my eyes. “Maybe. There’s something I have to do first.”
Camille hands me a cup of hot tea. “Bronco says you’re going to stay here for a few days?”
