“Gage!” I yell out unexpectedly as he groans deeply, his hips stilling as he grips his bedding beside my head. His abs flex and twitch as he follows me over the edge.
The release feels shared, like something we crossed together instead of separately.
He lies down beside me as we both catch our breath. I look over at him, and he turns his head to look at me. I sit up and press my lips to his, and he immediately kisses me back, filled with all the emotions we’ve been harboring—repressed by a pointless hatred.
The night blurs into heat and skin and whispered breaths. By morning, I’m tired and sore—in the best way. I reach out beside me and touch cold sheets. My stomach dips—an old, ugly reflex. He left again.
I roll out of bed and find one of his shirts to put on so I can get dressed, the fabric hanging loose on me, smelling like him, but when I open the bedroom door, I’m met with the aroma of coffee downstairs and the shuffling of nails clicking on the wooden floor. Bullet? Confusion flickers, then gives way to surprise. I can’t remember a time when Gage ever let Bullet in the house.
I walk downstairs and sure enough, Gage is in the kitchen in a pair of boxers, looking delicious, of course, a mug in hand. Bullet is in the middle of the room, eating breakfast. On the counter sits another hot mug, and Gage moves to the fridge, pulling out creamer to pour it.
When he turns around, he spots me. “I thought you were still in bed. I was going to bring you coffee,” he says as I walk down the last couple of steps. I cross the kitchenand thread my hands around his neck as his hands find my hips.
This quiet normalcy feels more dangerous than anything else so far has.
“Trust me, this was so much better to wake up to,” I reply, pressing my lips to his in a slow but passionate kiss.
How did I get so lucky? I don’t know, but I hope this doesn’t end.
But even as the thought settles, unease curls low in my stomach.
Someone broke into this ranch knowing exactly what to take. Not random tools. Not easy targets. Equipment tied directly to the water system. To the investigation. To leverage.
That wasn’t desperation.
That was intent.
I press closer to Gage, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, and know—deep down—that what happened tonight wasn’t the end of it.
It wasn’t random.
It was a warning shot.
eighteen
Gage
Last night was exactly how I imagined it would be.
Being with Sloane like that—loving her, showing her how she deserved to be treated—was better than any time before. It felt special, memorable, and dangerously easy to cling to with everything else falling apart.
Seeing her this morning in my shirt was something else. I didn’t think I’d enjoy seeing a woman wearing my clothes as much as seeing Sloane, but I’m beginning to think anything she does will be a new weakness. I’ll never admit that out loud because I know she’ll hold it over my head, but she has become my weakness.
We spent the morning making breakfast, and I skipped ranch duties to spend more time with her. I’ve never takena break for anything or anyone, not even when I was sick. I’m sure the guys won’t mind, considering Hank’s been begging me to get out of his hair since I was seven.
After cleaning up, I sent Bullet outside to do his thing, then headed upstairs to get dressed. Sloane was already upstairs, showering and getting ready for the day. We still had a lot to get done after the break-in.
Sloane has a bunch of calls to make, so she’ll most likely be holed up in the office all day while the guys and I work on repairs and make do with what we’ve got for the time being.
I still can’t believe someone broke into the barn and stripped us of our equipment. Whoever did it wanted damage, not profit—and that points straight to Horizon Group. I understand why they’re pushing.
Whatever they offered Uncle Sam must’ve been enough to make most people fold. He didn’t. He never would have. This land isn’t leverage—it’s blood and history. My family held it. Sloane’s father protected it.
Walking away for money wouldn’t just cost us the ranch—
It would erase everything that made it worth saving.
At times, I’ve wondered if any of it was worth the pain. The money, the risk, the constant strain to keep this place afloat—it hasn’t always paid off. But when Hollis isflourishing, when it’s standing strong, every one of those hardships feels worth enduring.
