She sits up on her elbows. “You’re really staying here?”
I smile back at her. “I’m really staying here.”
“Oh. Umm… sure. Go ahead.”
I quickly move about the house, throwing my jeans and underwear in the wash before finding a stack of extra men’s clothes we keep in the hall closet. I slip on a pair of boxers before grabbing a men’s T-shirt and make my way back into her room. She’s in the same place I left her, but her breasts are tucked back into her bra, and I can tell she’s smoothed out her hair. I reach out my hand in her direction. “Come here.”
She places her hand in mine, and I pull her off the bed. Staring into her eyes, I carefully remove her bra and slide the large white shirt over her small frame. And when I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she leans into my touch. Her breathing is steadier now, but I can see the aftershocks of what we just did in her eyes.
So I keep my voice soft and even.
“You want me here,” I ask gently, “or you want the bed to yourself tonight? I can sleep on the couch, no problem.” I make sure she hears me clearly without me needing to say it twice. “I’m stayin’ either way, Abigail. Couch, bed, floor—I don’t care. But someone was on our ranch tonight, and I’m not leavin’ this house.”
There’s no pressure. No expectation.
Just the truth.
“With me,” she says softly.
“With you,” I repeat and kiss her forehead softly.
The two of us go about getting ready for bed, and I let Lucy out one last time, doing a quick scan of the property while I stand at the door, before crawling under the covers. And when she flicks off the bedside lamp, I pull her body to mine. It only takes a couple of minutes before the sound of her soft snores fills the room, the soundtrack to most of my night.
Because I don’t sleep. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.
Every sound outside the walls registers. The wind. The house settling. Lucy occasionally stirring. My awareness stays sharp, tuned into her breathing, the rhythm of the room, the knowledge that she’s here, and trusting me enough to share this night with me. That trust weighs more than anything else ever has.
For her, tonight wasn’t about giving me something.
It was about taking something back.
Choice. Control. Desire on her terms.
And for me?
I crossed a line I won’t pretend I can step back over.
Because now I know what it feels like to have her fall apart for me, now I know what it feels like to touch her, to hold her, to be trusted with something so fragile and so powerful all at once.
And I also know the truth I’ll have to face come morning.
Lincoln.
Jasper.
Beau.
This isn’t ownership. It never will be.
It’s understanding.
She doesn’t belong to one of us, and none of us are walking away.
I’ll share her with them if that’s what she wants. I know I can do that.
For her. For them. For myself.
But I’ll also keep her safe. I’ll stand between her and anything that thinks it can take without asking.
