He spat the words like bad tobacco. His eyes flickered to the window, watching the clouds muscle over the pasture.
“I’m the oldest of four kids, so my old man wanted me to run the business. Make deals, show up for charity galas, marry a nice girl and produce some grandkids.” He smirked, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Instead, I joined the Navy at eighteen. Got out after ten years and didn’t look back.”
I let that settle, then asked, “Were you a SEAL?”
He glanced at me, then nodded, just once. “Yeah. Didn’t talk about it when I was a kid. Or ever, really.” He rolled his wrist, showing a faded trident tattoo half-hidden under a scar.
“Jesus,” I said, not sure if it was a prayer or just nerves.
He went on. “I did that life because it was the only thing I was ever good at. Orders, plans, knowing what’s expected. I could handle anything except going home.”
He looked at me then, dead-on, and I felt my whole body stiffen under the weight of it.
“My folks didn’t want me back. Not like I was. They thought I’d come home, shave my head, and pretend I’d never been in a fight. That I’d just slide back into the boardroom and forget the rest.”
I heard the edge in his voice, like he was talking about an enemy. I reached across the table, slow, and touched his hand where it gripped the biscuit. I expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. He just flipped his palm over so our fingers lined up.
“My granddad was the only one who gave a damn,” he said. “He ranched up here after he retired. Used to send me letters, even when I stopped answering. When he died, he left the place to me. Didn’t tell anyone, just wrote it in the will.” He huffed a bitter laugh. “They probably would have fought it if they knew this wasn’t some little rustic farm, but Grandfather was smart. He had the place put in my name before the ink was dry on the will. The deed was solid. So here I am.”
I squeezed his hand, feeling the cords of muscle under the skin. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said.
His face softened, just for a second. “Me too,” he said, then let out a long, shaky breath.
We sat like that, hands twined across the table, while the sun slanted lower and the chicks piped on.
I found my voice. “You ever miss it? Texas, the family?”
He shook his head, lips pressed tight. “Never. The Navy…sometimes. The structure. The clarity. You knew who was on your side, who wasn’t.” He looked at me, and there was a gentleness in his expression that he probably didn’t know he had. “I don’t miss being treated like a problem to fix.”
I nodded, the words sticking in my throat. “I get that.”
He looked at me for a long time, then asked, “You ever have anyone make you feel like you belonged?”
I almost laughed, but it caught in my chest. “No. Not really. Not until now.”
His hand tightened on mine.
I wanted to say more, but the words felt too fragile to risk.
He squeezed my fingers, then released them. “You ever think about leaving?” he asked. “Going somewhere that wasn’t broken down, or full of assholes?”
I shook my head. “I used to. But I always ended up in places like this, anyway. Might as well do something real here, you know?”
He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. “You’re better than most men I served with.”
I snorted. “You probably served with some bad men.”
He shook his head. “The worst ones were cowards. You’re not.”
I didn’t know what to do with the compliment, so I picked at the crumbs on my plate. “I just want to be useful.”
“You’re more than useful,” he said, and the softness in his voice made me go warm all over.
The silence after that was good, not tense or waiting for the other shoe to drop. I could have sat there all day, just listening to the hum of the house and the distant whicker of the horses.
Rawley traced a line across the wood grain, then looked up at me, his gaze sharpening. “You ever wonder what would have happened if we met somewhere else? Somewhere easier?”
I thought about it, then shook my head. “No. I don’t think I would’ve noticed you, not like this. Not unless I was desperate.”
