Chapter 19
NINETEEN
ATLEE
I’ve spent most of the day watching Devlin build the shelving units for me.
There’s something about watching the man you love use his hands to make a piece of furniture for you.
It’s one of the hottest things I’ve seen.
Lying on the couch, I watch him, and since we have all this time together, I decide to ask a few questions.
“What happened to you and Noah Sanchez’s girlfriend? Did you really steal her away from him in high school?”
He gives me a smirk, his eyebrows raising as he bends over and makes a cut on one of his pieces of wood.
“Yeah, I did, but there’s more to it than that.
He was a dickhead to her, and both of us were on the football team.
He was the quarterback, and I was the tight end. I saw what he was doing to her.”
“And what was that?” I ask, putting my chin in my palm, giving him my full attention.
His face goes hard, and I wonder if this is what it looked like when he was performing a mission in the military. “He was a bully, even back then. One night, I was out with some friends, and when I was driving home, I saw her walking on the side of the road.”
“Why was she walking?” I ask, my stomach clenching because I have a feeling I know why, but it’s horrible, so I don’t want to give voice to it.
Devlin sets down his tools, wiping sawdust from his hands onto his jeans. The playful mood from earlier has evaporated, replaced by one that’s decidedly heavier and darker.
“Her name was Jessalyn,” he says, leaning against the workbench he’s created in the middle of our living room. “She was walking because Noah had kicked her out of his truck after some party. It was about two miles outside of town, pitch black, middle of nowhere.”
My heart sinks. “That’s awful.”
“That’s not even the worst part,” Devlin continues, his voice tight with controlled anger. “When I pulled over to see if she needed help, I could see she’d been hit. Hard. Across the face. Her cheek was swollen, her lip split. Her shirt was ripped too.”
I sit up straighter on the couch, my hands curling into fists without me even realizing it. “Noah did that to her?”
Devlin nods, his jaw clenched. “Yeah. Apparently, they’d been arguing about something—she never did tell me exactly what—and he just…
snapped. Hit her, ripped her shirt trying to grab her when she tried to get away, then dumped her on the side of the road when she wouldn’t stop crying.
Keep in mind this is him as a teenager, not the adult cop he is now with more power. ”
“Jesus,” I breathe. I knew Noah was dangerous, but I don’t like hearing something like this.
“I gave her my jacket and drove her home,” Devlin continues. “Made sure she got inside safe. Gave her my number in case she needed anything else.”
“And that’s how you two started…” I trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.
He runs a hand through his hair, scattering more sawdust. “Not right away. She called me a couple of days later, just to thank me. Then we started talking more. She was in my English class, so we’d sit together, study together.
Eventually, it turned into us hanging out on the weekends, and then one day I kissed her. ”
I can picture it—young Devlin, already protective, already drawn to helping someone in trouble. “Did you love her?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
He considers this, his expression thoughtful.
“In a way. Not the way I should have, maybe. Not the way I…” He trails off, his eyes finding mine.
“We were comfortable together. She was sweet, smart. But it wasn’t…
it wasn’t like this. She deserved more than what I could give her, which is why she didn’t wait for me. ”
The words hang between us, weighted with meaning. Not like what we have.
“What happened with Noah?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.
Devlin’s mouth curves into something that’s not quite a smile. “I waited two weeks. Let Jessalyn heal up and made sure she was okay. Then I caught Noah alone in the locker room after practice.”
“And?”
“And I beat the living shit out of him,” Devlin says simply, with no pride or regret in his voice, just stating a fact. “Broke his nose, cracked two ribs, left him with a black eye that didn’t fade for a month.”
I should probably be horrified by the casual way he describes violence, but all I feel is a fierce, savage satisfaction. “Good.”
That gets a genuine smile from him, brief but real. “That’s not what most people say when they hear that story.”
“I’m not most people,” I remind him.
“No,” he agrees, his eyes warming as they hold mine. “You definitely aren’t.”
He turns back to his work, measuring a piece of wood with careful precision.
“Anyway, that’s why Noah’s got it in for me—actually, for the whole family.
Jesse stood lookout in the locker room. He’s been waiting all these years to get back at me.
Football scholarship, college plans, his reputation—of it took a hit after what happened. And Noah is the type to hold a grudge.”
“Did Jessalyn press charges against him? For what he did to her?” I ask, although knowing that probably didn’t happen since he’s now a cop.
Devlin shakes his head. “She didn’t want to. Said it would just make things worse. It was his word against hers, and things weren’t as fair back then? Maybe is a good way to put it. Now, people are more likely to believe a girl. Back then, they weren’t.”
I do know. In places like Grizzly River, victims often stay silent rather than face the whispers, the judgment, the inevitable taking of sides. It’s less so now, but it was definitely that way back then.
“What happened to her? To Jessalyn?” I ask, realizing I’ve never heard this name around town.
“After we broke up, by letter, I might add…” He chuckles. “She moved out east. Last I heard, she was living in Boston, married with a couple of kids.” He smiles faintly. “She sends me a Christmas card every year. Might seem weird, but I’m happy to know she’s happy.”
The thought of Devlin receiving Christmas cards from an ex-girlfriend would have bothered me a few weeks ago. Now, knowing the full story, it just makes me love him more.
“That’s why you stepped in with me, isn’t it?” I ask softly. “At the pharmacy. You saw someone else who needed help, and you couldn’t walk away.”
He looks up from his work, his eyes serious. “I’d have helped anyone in that situation, Atlee. But with you…” He pauses, searching for words. “With you, it was different. Right from the start.”
My heart flutters at the intensity in his gaze. “Different how?”
He sets down his tools again, crossing the room to sit beside me on the couch. His hand finds mine, callused fingers twining with my smoother ones.
“With Jessalyn, I wanted to protect her because it was the right thing to do,” he explains.
“With you, I wanted to protect you because the thought of anything happening to you felt like someone ripping my heart out of my chest. Especially after us having hung out previously. There’s been something about you since that first night that I haven’t been able to let go. ”
The raw honesty in his voice steals my breath. I squeeze his hand, unable to find words.
“Noah knows that,” Devlin continues. “He’s smart enough to see what you mean to me. That’s why he’s targeting you now.”
“You think this is all about revenge?” I ask. “The cattle rustling, Project Watershed…it’s just an excuse to come after you?”
“Not entirely,” Devlin admits. “The Morrisons are definitely up to something with the water rights. And we did steal their cattle, so that part’s real enough. But Noah wouldn’t be pushing so hard if it weren’t personal. He’s been waiting for his chance, and now he thinks he’s got it.”
“Because of me,” I say quietly.
His eyes flash. “This isn’t your fault, Atlee. Not any of it.”
“I didn’t say it was,” I counter. “But I am involved now. Noah sees me as your weakness, as a way to get to you.”
“You’re not my weakness,” Devlin says fiercely. “You’re my strength. But yes, he’s going to try to use you against me. That’s why I’m worried. My life’s been complicated enough before you came along, but now…”
“Now what?” I challenge when he doesn’t finish.
He sighs, running his free hand over his face. “Now I’ve got so much more to lose.”
I shift on the couch, turning to face him fully. “You are a good man, Devlin Nelson. The way you helped Jessalyn, the way you stood up to Noah…not many people would have done that.”
He looks away, uncomfortable with the praise. “I did what anyone would do.”
“No,” I disagree, reaching up to turn his face back toward mine. “You didn’t. Most people would have kept driving, would have told themselves it wasn’t their business. But you stopped. You helped. Just like you helped me.”
“And look where it’s gotten you,” he says bitterly. “A target on your back, caught up in all this mess with the Morrisons and Noah.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” I tell him firmly. “Right here, with you.”
“Even if it makes you a target?” he asks, a trace of vulnerability in the question.
I lean forward, pressing my lips to his in a gentle kiss. “I would be a target every day,” I whisper against his mouth. “If it meant I got to spend every night with you.”
He groans softly, his arms coming around me, pulling me closer. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”
“I’m exactly right for you,” I correct him. “Just like you’re exactly right for me.”
We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other on the couch, surrounded by half-built shelving units and sawdust. It’s not perfect. There’s still Noah and the Morrisons to deal with, still a storm brewing on the horizon. But it’s real. It’s ours.
“I should finish these shelves,” Devlin finally says, though he makes no move to let me go.
“They can wait,” I tell him, sliding my hands up his chest to link behind his neck. “We’ve got time.”
His eyes darken at my words, his hands tightening on my waist. “Do we?”
“All the time in the world,” I assure him, bringing my lips to his again.
And for a little while, at least, I almost believe it. The troubles outside our door fade away, and there’s just us, Devlin and Atlee, building something together that no one, not even Noah Sanchez, can tear down.
Later, as the afternoon stretches toward evening and Devlin returns to his woodworking, I find myself thinking about Jessalyn and about how one small act of kindness—stopping to help a girl on a dark road—can change the course of multiple lives.
If Devlin hadn’t stopped that night, would Noah have become the man he is now?
Would Devlin? Would either of them have crossed my path?
It’s strange how life works, how the worst moments can lead to the best ones if you just keep going, keep trying, keep believing that there’s something better waiting ahead.
As I watch Devlin work, his strong hands crafting something meant to last, I make a silent promise to myself. Whatever comes our way—Noah, the Morrisons, or some new trouble we haven’t even imagined yet—we’ll face it together, because some things are worth fighting for.
And what Devlin and I have? That’s worth everything.