“You’re a good man, Nick Wesley,” he murmured, his eyelids already growing heavy as the medication started to work its magic.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The words lodged somewhere in my throat, tangled up with all the confusion and complicated feelings I didn’t want to examine too closely.
Within minutes, his breathing evened out again, and I knew he was asleep.
When had this happened? When had we gone from bitter enemies to... whatever this was?
I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me again. The chair was uncomfortable as hell, and my back was already protesting. I glanced at the empty space beside Dante on the bed, remembering the warmth of lying next to him earlier.
No. That was a one-time thing. He’d been scared and medicated, and I’d been weak. It couldn’t happen again.
I forced myself to stand, my joints popping in protest. The medication should keep him out for at least six hours. Thatgave me plenty of time to check the property, make sure Angelo hadn’t burned anything down, and maybe grab a shower.
I turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver shadows across Dante’s sleeping form. I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
Then I made myself leave before I did something stupid like climb back into that bed.
The night air hit me like a brick when I stepped outside, cold and sharp with the threat of frost not far off. I pulled my jacket tighter and headed toward the barn, my boots crunching on gravel. The ranch was quiet except for the occasional lowing of cattle and the distant sound of the river.
Everything looked normal. The cattle were settled in the near pasture, dark shapes against darker grass. The barn was secure, the horses quiet in their stalls. Buck nickered when he heard me, pushing his nose over the stall door.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, running my hand down his face. His solid warmth was comforting, familiar. This I understood. This made sense.
Not like whatever was happening with Dante.
I checked the water troughs, made sure the feed was properly stored, did all the mindless tasks that usually helped me think. But tonight, my brain felt like it was moving through molasses, sluggish and confused.
I’d started toward the main house, intent on rousing Angelo, but thought better of it. It was the middle of the night and he, no doubt, had an early morning. For now, he could sleep. But as I turned to head back to the tiny house, I caught a figure leaning against the pasture fence, staring up at the endless stars that littered the sky. As I approached, it turned to face me, and I caught the familiar swish of a ponytail.
It was Heather.
“Nick?” she said, her eyes widening. “Nick!”
She rushed me, throwing her arms around me as she squeezed hard. I grimaced, making a few pained sounds. She let go of me immediately.
“Oh my god, Nick… I was so worried! I heard about the heifer and you getting thrown! Are you alright?”
“I’m… fine,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “Just bruised all to hell. Dante’s got three fractured ribs.”
“That’s too bad,” she shot back immediately, a scowl filling her face. “Too bad that heifer didn’t stomp him to death. I just wish it was me that had done it.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I took a step back, staring at my sister like I’d never seen her before. She had always been sweetness from head to toe. But the woman in front of me was… well,pissed.
“Do you really mean that, Heather?”
“What?” She crossed her arms, her jaw set in that stubborn way that reminded me of our father. “You want me to pretend I care about that mobster? He bought you, Nick. He ruined your life.”
“He saved my life,” I shot back, the words coming out harsher than I’d intended. “That heifer would’ve trampled me if he hadn’t gotten in the way.”
“So what? Maybe you’d have been better off.”
The words hung between us in the cold night air, ugly and raw. I felt something hot and angry rise in my chest.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” Her eyes were shining now, tears or fury, I couldn’t tell. “You think I don’t know what’s happening to you? You think I don’t understand what guys like him do with theirproperty?” She stepped close, her hands on my shoulders. “Is he…” She swallowed hard. “Is heforcinghimself on you, Nick?”
I jerked back from her touch, anger flaring hot in my gut. “What? No. Jesus, Heather, it’s not like that.”
