Burke’s hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair with gentle precision. “I heard what you said to him,” he murmured against my temple. “About the room. About family.”
I pulled back slightly, searching his face. “You were awake?”
A ghost of his usual smile flickered across his mouth. “Hard to sleep when my mate is making profound declarations of belonging on the front porch.” His thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone, tender and reverent. “Especially when they’re about my brother.”
“I meant it,” I said, covering his hand with mine. “Both of you. You’re stuck with me now.”
Something complex crossed his face—gratitude mixed with wonder, relief tinged with a protectiveness that made my chest ache. “Sterling doesn’t... he’s not used to having people care,” Burke said carefully. “Not used to having a place that’s his.”
“I know,” I replied. “But he does now. Whenever he needs it. For as long as he wants it.”
Burke’s eyes shone suspiciously bright. He cleared his throat, the sound rough with emotion. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
I smiled, reaching up to touch his face—the strong jaw, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the small scar above his right eyebrow that mirrored Sterling’s. “You showed up,” I said simply. “You saw me when no one else did. You made me believe I was worth something.”
He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that sent warmth spiraling through me. “You were always worth everything,” he said, each word deliberate. “I just helped you see it.”
The moment stretched between us, intimate and perfect—Burke’s arms around me, my hand on his chest where I could feel his heart beating strong and steady, the slight swell of my stomach pressed between us where our child grew.
I’d spent so many years afraid, so many nights curled into the smallest possible space, trying to become invisible. Now I stood in the open, protected not by hiding but by being seen—truly seen—by the man who’d chosen to make me his.
“I watched you with him,” Burke continued, his voice low. “The way you talked to him, like you already understood exactly who he is. Like you weren’t scared of him at all.”
“I was a little scared,” I admitted. “At first. But not of him. Of... messing it up, I guess. Of saying the wrong thing and making him think he wasn’t welcome.”
Burke shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “Danny, you could offer that man poison and he’d drink it if you served it with that smile.” His hand returned to my stomach, warm and protective. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, same as you do me.”
I scoffed, but couldn’t stop the pleased flush that warmed my cheeks. “Sterling doesn’t get wrapped around anything. He’s like... I don’t know, a force of nature. Or a mountain. Something that just is, completely itself.”
“That’s my brother,” Burke agreed, pride evident in his voice. “Always has been, even when we were kids.” His expression softened. “He’d have torn Dennis apart that morning, you know. If I’d given the word. Wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”
The statement should have frightened me—the casual way Burke mentioned potential violence, the absolute certainty that Sterling would have carried it out without hesitation. But instead, I felt a rush of fierce gratitude. They’d stood between me and danger without flinching. Had been willing to cross lines I couldn’t even imagine to keep me safe.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. “Give the word, I mean. Not because Dennis deserves mercy, but because...” I hesitated, searching for the right way to explain. “Because that’s not who I want us to be. Who I want our child to know we are.”
Understanding dawned in Burke’s eyes. He nodded, one hand coming up to cup my face with heartbreaking gentleness. “We protect what’s ours,” he said simply. “Whatever it takes. But we don’t become monsters doing it. That’s the line.”
I turned my face into his palm, pressing a kiss to the center of it. “That’s the line,” I agreed.
The morning light streamed through the kitchen windows, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor and highlighting the dust motes that danced in the air between us.
From outside came the distant sounds of the ranch coming to life—Rawley calling to the dogs, Jojo’s cheerful voice as he collected eggs from the henhouse, the metallic clang of tools as Macon worked in the barn.
Our home. Our family. Our future.
I slipped my arms around Burke’s waist, resting my head against his chest where I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His hand came up to stroke my hair, the touch so gentle it made my throat tight with emotion.
“We should get started on breakfast,” I murmured against his shirt. “I’m starving, and someone kept me up half the night.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my cheek. “That was definitely not a complaint I heard at the time,” he said, the familiar teasing note returning to his voice. “In fact, I’m pretty sure what you actually said was—“
I clapped a hand over his mouth, feeling my face heat. “Don’t you dare repeat that in Jojo’s kitchen,” I hissed, though there was no real anger behind it. “Some things are private, Callahan.”
He caught my wrist, pressing a kiss to my palm before I could pull away. “Everything about you is perfect,” he said, suddenly serious again. “Private or otherwise.”
The simple sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. I’d spent so many years being told I was nothing—a burden, a disappointment, a waste of space.
Hearing Burke say I was perfect, watching his eyes light up when I entered a room, feeling his hands gentle on my skin—it still sometimes felt like a dream I’d wake from, back to the cold reality of before.
