“You saved us,” I whisper.
Ryder presses a kiss into my hair. “That was never in question.”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “You scared me.”
“I know,” he repeats, softer this time.
“And you don’t get to do that again,” I add firmly. “You don’t get to be brave at the expense of staying.”
Something shifts in his expression then—an acceptance of some kind. “I’m staying. I’m not running anymore. Not from this. Not from you. Not from him.”
My throat tightens. “You promise?”
He leans his forehead against mine, eyes closing briefly. “On my life.”
I let myself believe him.
We lie there like that for a long time, the three of us tangled together, Julian between us like the proof of everything that almost went wrong and somehow didn’t. Outside, Iron Stallion stands quiet and unchallenged, a warning etched into the land itself.
Inside, for the first time in what feels like forever, I breathe. This is my family, and we’re still here.
30
RYDER
The kitchen sounds like a bar fight disguised as domestic effort. There are too many bodies in too small a space, elbows colliding, voices raised, heat rising from pans that are doing things pans should not be doing.
“I said medium heat,” Jace snaps.
“Thisismedium heat,“ Zane fires back, staring down a pan like it personally insulted him.
“That’s high,” Cole notes patiently, arms crossed, watching this unfold with the exhausted patience of a man who married into insanity willingly.
“No, it’s not,” Zane retorts, but the smoke says otherwise.
I stay where I am, shoulders braced, hands steady as I cut strawberries into even slices. Beck bumps into me and mutters an apology that doesn’t sound like one. “You good, Ghost?”
I grunt, and he grins. “That’s a yes.”
Cole glances at me. “You ever cooked for Valentine’s Day before?”
“No.”
“That tracks.”
Dad sits at the small breakfast table near the window, coffee in hand, watching us like this is the best show he’s seen in years. He doesn’t interfere or offer advice, just observes with quiet amusement, eyes soft in a way that makes my chest feel tight if I think about it too long. All his sons are under one roof, alive and happy. That’s not nothing.
In the next room, the kids’ laughter filters through—Aria and Daisy all too happy to be on babysitting duty.
I glance at the clock and realize that they’ll be back soon—the ladies of the house. We sent them out shopping and a day at the spa, hoping they’d be back by the time the food is ready, but it looks like we’ve failed that mission.
My eyes wander to the counter where a small pile of gifts waits—wrapped boxes, handwritten cards, and bouquets that the ranch hands delivered earlier with knowing smirks. Mine sits at the edge, simple white roses and a card I’ve yet to figure out what to write on.
Before we can control our chaos, the front door opens, and laughter spills in first, bright and unguarded.
Zane freezes mid-stir, Jace lowers the spice rack, and Beck whispers, “Oh God.”
Cole claps his hands, murmuring, “It’s showtime.”
