“You noticed.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, taking another sip of coffee. “Unfortunately.”
I glance down at her again. The wind lifts a few strands of hair across her cheek and she tucks them behind her ear absentmindedly while staring out at the pasture.
She looks calm. Peaceful. Like the world hasn’t already tried to knock her down once this month.
My chest tightens again. Because the truth sitting under all of this is simple. No one gets to hurt her. Not while I’m breathing.
I take another sip of coffee and lean against the railing beside her, letting our shoulders touch while the sun slowly climbs over the edge of the fields.
I watch the steam curl slowly off the top of my mug while Rae’s words settle between us like something heavier than they should be. The farm is waking up around us, early light stretching across the pasture while the animals start moving in the distance, but the air on the porch suddenly feels tighter than it did a minute ago. My eyes drift toward her when she speaks again.
“What happens when you take care of him?” Rae asks quietly.
I glance over at her. She’s staring out across the field, not looking at me now.
“I’m assuming you’re killing him,” she adds, her voice steady in that careful way people use when they’re trying not to sound like they care too much. “And then what? He won’t be a problem anymore.”
I turn more fully toward her, studying her face like I’m trying to read something written there that she hasn’t said out loud yet. Her expression is calm, but there’s tension around her mouth, something tight behind her eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“What are you really asking?” I say.
She finally looks at me then.
For a moment she doesn’t answer.
And somehow my silence seems to fill in whatever gap she left in that question.
Something shifts behind her eyes. She exhales slowly and turns her gaze back toward the pasture.
“Look,” Rae says, her tone changing, becoming lighter in that forced way people use when they’ve already decided how something is going to end. “We’ve had fun out here this past week, holed up with my crazy crew and playing farm life. And don’t get me wrong, it’s been… nice.”
I feel my shoulders go still.
“But this isn’t real life,” she continues, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug like she’s trying to brush it off before it matters too much. “I know that, and I don’t expect anything from you.”
My jaw tightens.
She keeps talking anyway.
“You’ve got your life with the club. I’ve got mine here. You were here because of Wayne and the bar and Voss and all that mess, and once that’s handled…” She shrugs again, smaller this time. “Well. That’s that.”
Something cold settles in my chest.
“So let’s just call this what it is,” she finishes quietly.
For a second I just stare at her.
Because the words don’t make sense in my head.
Not after the last week. Not after the mornings on this porch and the nights in her bed and the way she fits against me like she’s always belonged there.
“You think that’s what this is?” I ask slowly.
She turns toward me again.
“It’s the truth,” Rae says.
