Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I lean down until I’m eye-to-eye with the bastard. “Don’t test us, Raylan,” I hiss. Then I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’ll put you in the ground before I let you hurt another hair on that woman’s head—somewhere no one will find your worthless corpse. I have acres and acres of dirt just waitin’ on some fertilizer.”
He jerks his arm loose and stumbles backward, fury contorting his face, but he leaves without looking back, legs striding, arms pumping, head low, proving everything I said about him. I grab Joelle immediately, cupping her cheek, brushing tears from her lashes as Little C hides against her neck.
“Hey,” I murmur, pulling her into my chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. You understand me?”
Caleb rubs the baby’s back, whispering soft, soothing nonsense. “Shh, little man. You’re safe. We got you.”
Joelle trembles so hard I can feel it through my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she keeps whispering. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? I say firmly. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? Not for this. Not for him. Not ever. That man’s all hat and no cattle. Not worth a single emotion, let alone a tear.”
She buries her face in my chest, crying silently as Caleb wraps his arm around her shoulders.
We stand in the middle of the fair, the three of us and the baby we’d defend to our last breaths, while the world keeps spinning around us as if nothing happened.
And I know, without a doubt, I’d fight that man again a hundred times if it means keeping her and that little boy safe.
They’re ours.
And no worthless piece of shit is taking them.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 25
Joelle
By the time we pull up the drive to the ranch, my bones feel hollow. Asleep in his car seat, Little C barely stirs when I take him out, his tiny fingers curling in my dress. Even his warm weight can’t stop the trembling inside me.
The porch light glows softly through the gathering dark, a welcome beacon. I carry him straight upstairs, changing him into his softest pajamas, smoothing his curls and brushing my fingertips along his cheek. He sighs in that tiny, trusting way babies do, the way that shatters your heart clean in two and at the same time makes you smile.
“Sweet boy,” I whisper, kissing his forehead. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you. I’ll always take care of you.”
His father’s angry face fills my mind and my throat constricts. All the pure happiness and joy we were feeling was shattered and spoiled. And the guilt I feel about the mistake that led to my beautiful baby's conception is magnified. How could I have ever been so stupid as to think that man was worth anything?
When my Little C is finally settled, breathing regular and deep, I back out of the room and ease the door shut. The second it clicks, my chest tightens. I swallow hard and wipe my eyes with the heel of my hand.
The house is quiet and warm, but I don’t feel safe after everything that happened today and the feelings it has unearthed in me.
I head to the bathroom to shower away the day’s sweat and dust, giving myself a moment to cry while no one is watching, needing to release some emotion before the men return. I pull on one of Caleb’s shirts. As I descend the stairs, boots thud on the steps outside, and Wade and Caleb’s voices carry into the house
I follow their familiar sounds to the kitchen. They’ve come in from evening chores, dust streaking their forearms, shirts clinging to the sweat of real work. They look up the moment they see me, and that familiar warmth in their eyes almost undoes me.
“Did Little C settle?” Caleb asks.
I nod.
“Are you okay?” Wade rubs his stubbly chin, gaze trailing over my face.
“Sit down,” I say softly. “Both of you.”
Caleb lifts his brows at Wade, but they do as I ask, settling at the table like they’re bracing for news neither of them wants.
I stand at the head of the table, twisting my fingers together.
“I’ve been thinking,” I begin, my voice thin and shaky. “About what Wade said. About money. About… the cost of raising Little C.”
Caleb frowns, leaning forward. “Jo—”
“No, let me say this,” I whisper. “I’m not prepared to put that all on your shoulders. It’s not fair. He’s my responsibility. I brought him into this world. I chose to raise him. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness or—”
“Stop.” Wade’s voice cuts through gently but firmly.
My eyes sting. “I can’t just sit here and let you take on everything when his father gets to walk away so easily. I can’t.”
“You’re not,” Caleb says. “You came here as our housekeeper, and even though you’ve become more, you’re still doing that work. You’re still earning your keep and taking responsibility for your child. We don’t want to take that away from you.”