Carter set down the bread and folded his hands in his lap. “I didn’t do it to win. I just—I wanted to make sure no one could ever threaten you again. Not Victor, not anyone. That land is a buffer. No one can ever use it to squeeze the farm.”
Rawley stared at him, then nodded once, sharp and final. “You’re a good man, Carter.”
Carter’s mouth twisted into a skeptical smile. “That’s debatable.”
I reached across the table and took his hand. He startled, but didn’t pull away. My thumb traced the bones beneath his skin, memorizing them. “It’s not debatable to me.”
He glanced up, and for a second, there was something in his eyes—fear, hope, I didn’t know, but it caught the breath in my chest.
Rawley finished his coffee and stood, stretching his arms overhead. “I’m going to check the east fence line before the rain hits. You two… talk.”
He left without waiting for a reply, boots thudding against the floor, the back door rattling on its hinges when he slammed it behind him.
Carter watched the door for a long moment, then sagged in his seat, the tension leaking out of him. “That could have gone worse.”
I squeezed his hand. “You did great.”
He snorted, then ran the other hand through his hair. “I feel like my head is full of bees.”
I wanted to drag him into my lap, hold him until the world made sense again, but I didn’t. Not yet. “You going to tell me what the real plan was?”
Carter stared at our joined hands, thumb worrying the inside of my wrist. “Portugal. Maybe New Zealand. Somewhere Dad couldn’t find me. I already lined up the flights.” His voice got small. “I didn’t think you’d ever want me here. Not after—”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t care what you think you’re supposed to do. I want you here. With me. With Rawley, if he ever gets his head out of his ass.”
He blinked, slow. “You sure?”
I was, for once in my life, absolutely certain. “I want to be with you. I want this.” I let my palm rest on the curve of his belly. “All of it. Even the part that scares the shit out of me.”
He laughed, the sound shaky and wet. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“Supposed to” never did much for either of us.
I let go of his hand and stood up. The urge to pace hit hard, but I stayed put. “You know I fucked up. More than once. But I want to do it right, this time. I want you to stay.”
He stared at the table, then at me, searching for the lie. “Not just for now. Not just until it gets hard?”
“For good,” I said, the words surprising me as much as him. “If you’ll let me.”
He chewed that over, the line of his mouth tight with uncertainty. “I don’t want to be a burden, Macon. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
“Nothing about you feels like a trap,” I said, “except when you leave.”
He laughed again, but the sound was lighter. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Me either,” I admitted. “But I think if we work at it, we might be okay.”
He got up, slow and careful, then crossed the kitchen to stand in front of me. His eyes searched mine, and when he finally leaned in, I felt it all the way to the soles of my feet. His lips were soft, but the kiss was solid. Real.
“I want to try,” he said against my mouth. “I want to try with you.”
I wrapped both arms around him, holding him and the baby and the whole fucked-up story together in one impossible, perfect moment.
The rain started outside, soft at first, then a steady drumming on the roof.
We stood in the middle of the kitchen, wrapped up in each other and the warmth of something I hadn’t dared believe in.Family, maybe. Or just a future that wasn’t made entirely of regret.
Carter pulled back, eyes shining. “What if we mess it up?”
