A soft intake of breath tells me she's waking. Lucy's eyes flutter open, brown and warm and immediately focused on my face with an intensity that makes my breath catch. When she smiles, sleepy and satisfied and completely trusting, something tight in my chest loosens like a knot finally giving way.
"Good morning," she whispers, her voice rough with sleep and thoroughly used.
"Morning, sunshine." The endearment slips out naturally, and I watch her eyes soften at the sound of it like she's been waiting her whole life to hear it.
She stretches like a cat, arching against me in ways that make my body take immediate notice despite our marathon session yesterday. When she settles back down, her hand finds the center of my chest, fingers playing through the hair there with absent intimacy.
"How long have you been awake?" she asks.
"A while." I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips to press a kiss to her palm. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you."
She doesn't hesitate, doesn't ask questions. Just slips carefully out from under Colt's arm and follows me from the bed with the kind of trust that humbles me. The implicit faith in that simple action hits me harder than it should.
I grab a hoodie from my dresser, one of my old ranch working sweatshirts that's been washed soft with age and wear. When I slip it over her head, it engulfs her small frame, falling nearly to her knees and making her look young and precious and utterly mine.
I hurriedly dress myself too.
"Where are we going?" she asks, but there's curiosity in her voice, not concern.
"You'll see."
I take her hand to lead her from the room, then stop when I notice the bandage still wrapped around her wrist. The reminder of her attack, of how close I came to losing her before I even had her, sends ice through my veins and steel through my spine.
"Does it hurt?" I ask, my thumb ghosting over the edge of the bandage with infinite care. "We were... intense with you yesterday."
Lucy's cheeks flush pink, but she shakes her head. "It doesn't hurt. The attack feels like a lifetime ago after..." She pauses, biting her lower lip in a way that makes me want to soothe the spot with my tongue. "I enjoyed every moment, Beau. All of it."
The honesty in her voice, the way she meets my eyes without shame or regret, makes my throat tight with emotion I don't have words for. I lift her hand to my lips again, pressing a gentle kiss just above the bandage.
"Good," I tell her, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "You should never feel anything but pleasure when you're with us."
I lead her through the quiet house and out the back door, the morning air cool and crisp against our skin. The world is hushed and gray, caught in that perfect moment between night and day when everything feels possible and nothing has been decided yet.
The hill behind the house isn't much more than a gentle rise, but it offers a commanding view of the entire ranch spread out below like a kingdom.
I've climbed this path thousands of times, in every season and weather, whenever the weight of responsibility threatens to crush me under its familiar burden. It's my sanctuary, my place of peace in a world that demands constant strength.
I've never brought anyone here before. Not Sophia, not my parents, not even Colt in all our years of friendship.
At the top, I settle behind Lucy, pulling her back against my chest and wrapping my arms around her waist. She fits perfectly against me, her head tucked under my chin, her warmth seeping through the cotton of the hoodie like she's trying to heat me from the inside out.
"This is my place," I tell her, my voice quiet in the pre-dawn stillness. "I come here every morning when I can. It gives me perspective, helps me remember what I'm working for, what all of this means."
Below us, the ranch spreads out like a promise made manifest. Pastures and fences, barns and outbuildings, cattle moving slowly through the morning mist like ghosts of prosperity. Four generations of Blackwell sweat and dreams transformed into wood and wire and fertile ground.
"I've never shared this with anyone," I continue, surprised by my own honesty. "This moment, this place. It's always been mine alone. But having you here..." I pause, struggling for words that don't sound like pretty lies. "It feels right. I can't explain it properly, but it does."
Lucy's breath catches, and when she turns in my arms to look at me, there are tears gathering in her brown eyes like morning dew.
"Thank you," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "For trusting me with this..."
She doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to. The emotion in her voice says everything that words can't capture.
"I can't explain it either," she continues, settling back against my chest like she belongs there. "But this feels right to me too. All of it. Yesterday, last night, this moment. It should be complicated and messy and wrong, but it's not. It's the most right I've felt in..."
She stops abruptly, and I can feel the weight of unfinished words between us. Secrets wanting to spill out in the safety of dawn and isolation.
"How long?" I ask gently, my arms tightening around her protectively.
