Anxiety rattles my spine as I start to shake. In the base of my throat, a lump forms as unshed tears gather along my lower lashes. Digging deep, I muster enough strength to give Rhett what he needs. “Three.”
When I don’t expand on my answer, he pushes, “Who were they?” Muscles at his jawline twitch. “Noah, please tell me. I need to know.”
“His groomsmen. They were invited to the room. Bradley put something in my drink.” My stomach twists, and I close my eyes, keeping tears from cascading down my cheeks. “By the time I understood what they were there for, it was too late.” I choke on the next words, forcing them from my mouth. “I couldn’t make them stop.”
He nods, fingers tightening their grip on his scalp. Under his breath, he fumes. “Fuck. Shit.Fuck.” Unableto look at me, he tears his gaze away and paces the kitchen as I watch his control slip further.
My eyes widen, heart jumping up into my throat as I choke out, “Rhett!”
“I need a minute. If I don’t get a hold of myself, I’ll pick up a bottle of whiskey.” He shakes his head. “And the last time I drank away my emotions, the love of my life was brutally attacked.” He heaves out a breath. “So, just bear with me.” A moment later, he’s gone.
I can’t even be mad at him for walking out. Not when he’s been my rock through all of this. Even the strongest steel sometimes bends.
RHETT
27
I waketo the warmth of Noah pressed against me. Her back fits the length of my chest, spine curved, knees bent to accommodate my long legs. For a moment, I relish the familiar feeling of how perfectly we fit together.Fuck, I missed this.Holding her close and keeping her safe.
With an arm around her waist, I rest my palm against the soft dip of her stomach. Her skin is warm beneath the fabric of my old high school jersey, and my fingers itch to slip under the hem and trace her smooth, silklike skin.
My eyes close again as I bury my nose into her wild hair and inhale. Her scent soothes my anxiety. Sunshine caught in cotton sheets, accompanied by her signature perfume—a dark, addictive edge of vanilla, coffee, andflowers that lingers in my lungs long after I stop breathing her in.
She slides an inch closer, toes brushing my shin, hips rolling back on a slow exhale as she resettles. I didn’t think it possible for us to get any closer, but sleep tugs her deeper into me until her weight fits and goes still again. A breath rips out of my chest before I can trap it, teeth biting down too late as heat and pressure grind exactly where I’m already strained thin. Blood surges to my cock, my body answering her without permission. I go stone-still. Every muscle clamps down hard enough to hurt, like if I don’t move, don’t breathe too deep, don’t let my hips shift—I can keep the damage contained, keep her from feeling just how close I am to losing control. My jaw tightens until it aches.
A soft sound escapes past her lips that solidifies her contentment. Trust given unconsciously, and my pulse starts hammering so loud I swear she’ll hear it and rouse from her slumber.
I stay rigid and count her breaths instead of my own. In. Out. Slow. Even.
My fingers curl into the fabric of my jersey, knuckles whitening as material creases under my grip. The texture grounds me and keeps my hand where it belongs.
She mumbles in her sleep. Nothing easy to make out, but I swear my name is mentioned. My cock throbs, insistent, pulsing with a want I refuse to let surface. I need toget the fuck out of this bed before something makes her uncomfortable. The urge to roll her onto her back is there, made vivid by a past that is so far from our present.
Easing my arm away from her, I shift onto my back, then pause for several heartbeats, afraid the wrong movement might make her reach again. The mattress shifts, and Noah switches from lying on her left to her right, now facing me.
She follows in her sleep, drifting closer, knee knocking into my thigh, fingers sliding forward until they land on my bare chest like she’s chasing something she doesn’t want to wake up without.
My rib cage rises as I stare at the ceiling and savor the way she curls against my side. The fan hums overhead, stealing my focus. My body is still tight with want, heaviness, and unresolved emotions.
This is how it’s been since she came home with me. Four days ago, she laid it all bare in my kitchen, telling me everything about her situationship with Bradley, and how it went from a business arrangement to something she couldn’t escape.
I’d walked away that morning because I was spiraling into a man she didn’t need to see—crazed with fury and rage. Since then, we exist in the same rooms, share the same air, orbit each other carefully. Not knowing where we go from here.
Noah moves through my space like she’s alwaysbelonged there—bare feet on hardwood, hands grazing surfaces like she’s checking they’re real. Some days she talks, filling the quiet with small things that don’t matter. Some days she barely speaks at all, eyes distant, body here but mind somewhere else entirely.
I hate myself for noticing every little movement. The way she startles when a door shuts too loudly. The way she goes still when I step too close to her without announcing my presence.
The family’s been giving us space in the only way they know how. No questions. No hovering. Just quietly dropping supplies off on the porch without ever intruding.
Grandma Jo has delivered enough hot meals for an army of men. Sage brought some of her clothes for Noah to use and stacked them neatly on the swing out front. Kade has called a few times to check in, letting me know he and the twins have the ranches covered and that I don’t need to worry about anything.
It shouldn’t surprise me. This is who they are. They don’t need explanations. They don’t need reassurance. They see what matters and take care of it quietly, without making it a debt. I’ve never been more grateful for them than I am right now—grateful that Noah doesn’t have to carry anything extra on top of what she’s already surviving.
Next to me, Noah breathes out softly and presses herforehead against my chest, close enough that the warmth of her seeps back into my skin. I react instantly, the need flaring hot and fast. Lying there, I let the want burn itself down to something untenable. Eventually, it’s too much for me to control, so I slide out of bed, looking back as she curls around my pillow and sighs. I turn toward the en suite and walk away before my resolve has time to soften.
The bathroom floor is cold under my feet, the shock of it sharp enough to cut through the fog in my head. I welcome it. I need something solid. Something that doesn’t bend. The door closes behind me with a muted click, and the small room feels tighter, quieter, like it’s built to hold things in. I brace my hands on the vanity counter and breathe. The mirror catches me at a bad angle—jaw rigid, eyes dark, shoulders wound so tight they ache—but I don’t look for long. I reach for the shower and twist the handle hard, letting the water roar to life, steam rising almost immediately. The sound fills the room, drowning out everything else.
I shove the sleep pants down my legs and step out of them, leaving them where they fall before climbing into the shower and letting the water hit me full force. It’s hotter than I usually like it—Noah’s doing, I presume—but I don’t change the setting.
