It should be peaceful, but my pulse hammers against my throat like a caged bird.
What if Gabriel can't handle this?
The thought hits me sideways, stealing my breath. What if the possessive, commanding man who claimed me so thoroughly decides sharing isn't worth the complication?
My grip tightens on the paper bag until I'm probably crushing the pastry inside. Because I'm not ready to choose. I don'twantto choose. For the first time in my life, I want it all. Every rough edge of Colt, every controlled burn of Gabriel, every quiet storm of Beau.
But maybe that makes me exactly what uncle Richard always said. Selfish. Broken. Too damaged to deserve good things.
"Lucy! Perfect timing!"
I nearly jump out of my skin as Emma materializes beside me, pushing a stroller with one hand while bouncing on her feet. Her honey-blonde hair escapes from a messy bun, and she's wearing yoga pants with an oversized ranch sweater.
She looks exhausted and radiant in that new-mother way that makes me ache with something I can't name.
"Emma, hi." I force my anxiety down, painting on a smile. "Early morning walk?"
"Little Nathan decided six AM was party time." She glances down at the bundle in the stroller with pure love and exasperation. "Sometimes this is the only thing that settles him. Magic of fresh air and movement, according to every mommy blog on the internet."
I peek into the stroller at the tiny face, peaceful now in sleep. Something warm and painful twists in my chest. "He's beautiful."
"He's a terror, but he's my terror." Emma grins, then gives me a look that's far too knowing.
"Speaking of terrors, I heard about your run-in with the Cutter brothers. Are you okay? And please tell me there's some dramatic story about my brother and his complicated friends swooping in to save you."
Heat floods my cheeks. "It wasn't exactly a rescue—"
"Honey, you're blushing like a virgin at a honky-tonk. There's definitely something." Emma leans closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Is this about you spending the night at Beau Blackwell's ranch? Because Mrs. Henderson saw Colt's truck there yesterday evening, and it sure as hell didn't leave until this morning."
"Mrs. Henderson needs a hobby that doesn't involve binoculars."
"Mrs. Hendersonisbetter than cable TV around here." Emma's voice softens with genuine affection.
"But seriously, Lucy, I need details. Are we talking about what I think we're talking about? Because if my emotionally constipated brother has finally figured out how to share nicely with others, I might actually cry from happiness."
The way she talks about Colt, like she genuinely loves him and wants him happy, makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
"It's... complicated."
"The best things usually are." Emma reaches out and squeezes my arm, her touch gentle but grounding.
"Look, I don't know the whole story, and I won't pry. Much. But you've got a friend here, okay? Whatever's happening, however messy it gets, you don't have to navigate it alone."
The kindness in her words makes my throat tight. When was the last time someone offered friendship without wanting anything in return?
"Thank you. That means more than you know."
"Good. Now, I'm serious about another girls' night like we talked about. I need adult conversation that doesn't involve bodily fluids or sleep schedules, and you look like you could use someone to talk to who isn't a complicated cowboy."
Despite everything, I laugh. "You're terrible."
Emma starts pushing the stroller again as Nathan begins to stir. "Call me, Lucy. I mean it. We complicated women need to stick together in this town full of stubborn men."
She heads off down the street, leaving me standing on cracked pavement with a lighter heart and the strangest feeling that maybe I'm not as alone as I thought.
The police station sits quiet in the early morning light, its windows glowing amber against weathered brick. A sign on the front desk announces office hours don't start untileight, but I can see light spilling from under Gabriel's door at the back of the building, hear the soft crackle of dispatch radio.
