The sight knocks something loose in my chest.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, dragging my hand across my jaw. Because if Lawson’s already smiling? Well, the rest of us don’t stand a fucking chance.
Down below, Beau and Jasper walk up to them with Lucy trotting happily at their side. Abigail crouches to pet her, smiling again when Lucy all but tries to crawl into her lap.
She looks like she belongs here.
She looks so damn beautiful. It’s undeniable how beautiful she is. But it’s not just that. There’s a softness to her, something careful and bruised beneath the sunlight. Someone who is simultaneously hiding yet trying to bring herself into the light. Someone who is trying to relearn what safety feels like.
And that thought scares me more than her beauty ever could.
Because women with wounds like that… they deserve better men, better than I’ve ever been. And hearts that have been left unbroken.
Women like her deserve calm. Steady. Solid.
Slowly, I step away from the window and return to my desk, jaw tight. Outside, I hear her laugh again, and despite everything in me screaming to stay focused—stay guarded—something woven in the waves of that sound makes me look up every damn time, because this feels like the beginning of something none of us are ready for.
Least of all me.
Chapter nine
Abigail
Thedayslipsawayfrom me faster than I expect.
One moment, the sun is high overhead while Lawson loads me in the side-by-side and shows me the pastures, the barns, the winding trails that weave like veins through the ranch’s land. And the next, the light has turned soft and amber, spilling through the slats of the horse barn as if the world around me has exhaled.
And I breathe it in.
Straw and leather. The earthy sweetness of hay bales stacked neatly in the corner, ready to be eaten. Horses shifting in their stalls, the gentle click of halters, and the rumble of their breath. It’s all a symphony. So unlike the one I’ve known my entire life. It’s softer. Kinder.
Lucy walks up beside me, tail wagging like she’s personally responsible for showing me around today.
Lawson tried to stay with me a majority of the day. He was steady and patient while he explained every part of the ranch, like he was handing me a piece of him that was the most precious. Jasper and Beau drifted in and out with their smilesand easy banter, offering teasing commentary about Lawson until he glared at them hard enough.
Which only spurred them on, of course.
Now the men are finishing up the last of their chores while I hover near the stalls, gently stroking the velvety nose of a brown mare.
It’s only been one day.
Twenty-four hours.
And yet… I feel it in my bones. An overwhelming certainty rising in my chest.
I belong here.
But I’ve always known I would.
The realization hits so strongly I have to step back for a moment as I wrap my hand around the back of my opposite arm, right where my tattoo is inked into my skin. A delicate mountain range. And just beneath it, the word I’ve carried around with me for years.
Topophilia.
Love of a place.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it here. That I’d ever get to love a place again. Not after everything. Not after New York. Not after Maxim or the Novikov’s. Not after being sold, traded, and treated like something owed rather than someone living.
But this place… the horses, the air, the quiet, the men who move around the land like guardians… it’s reminding me there are places I can truly exist safely.
