10. Luna
Chapter 10
Luna
The wind howls like it wants to rip the trees out by their roots. I’ve already filled every jug, kettle, and mason jar in the kitchen, stacked blankets by the fireplace, and lit the oil lamps before the power flickered.
The storm rolled in fast—gray skies turning charcoal, then ink—and Clover Canyon doesn’t play. The temperature dropped ten degrees in under an hour. The barn cats vanished, the goats fell silent, and even Jingle burrowed herself under Shay’s blanket like she knew something was coming.
I'm too familiar with disasters to waste energy on fear. All I need to do is keep my hands moving and my mouth shut. Make myself useful. That's how you survive when the world turns sideways—you become whatever the moment demands.
I know how to weather the storm. I’ve done it most of my life.
But this one? It’s different. Because it’s not just the windows I’m watching.
It’s Angus.
I catch him staring outside at the darkening sky, shoulders rigid under his flannel shirt.
"Think we'll lose power?" I ask, my voice too light.
"Probably." His gaze darts to the window, then back to me. "You've done a good job preparing."
Words that should be praise but sound like goodbye.
It’s been two weeks since I married Angus in a living room draped in fairy lights and blossoming with hope. Two weeks since I saw something raw and steady in his eyes that made me believe this could be real.
And for one beautiful night, it was.
I touch my lips absentmindedly, recalling the weight of his calloused hands on my waist, the clean, soapy scent of his skin, and how he whispered my name against my neck like a prayer.
The heat between us sparked fast and burned bright. His touch, his kiss, the way he pulled me in like I was oxygen and he’d been suffocating—it was all-consuming.
And then he woke up shouting a man’s name I didn't recognize, eyes fixed on horrors I couldn't see. His body trembled under my touch when I tried to reach for him. He wouldn't tell me about his nightmare. He muttered an apology, got up, and left me alone in sheets still warm from our bodies.
And since then, he’s been distant.
Kind. Polite. Present.
But not close.
Not the way we were when he kissed me in the barn, or the night the mare gave birth. Not like our wedding night, when I trembled as I gave him the only thing that was ever truly mine to give, and he touched me with such reverence I thought I might break from the tenderness of it. I gave him my body, my trust, everything, and for those few perfect hours, I believed he was giving me the same in return.
He thinks pushing me away will protect me. But I didn’t marry him for the easy parts.
And I know it’s not about me. I do. Some bone-deep part of me understands that whatever’s chasing Angus in the dark isn’t mine to fix.
Still, my chest aches with the silence. I catch myself wondering if I asked for too much. If I was foolish to think a girl like me could hold the attention of a man like him for more than a moment.
Because I know how this story goes.
You get warm. You let yourself believe.
And then life snatches it all back.
"Storm's getting worse," he says now, grabbing his coat from the hook. "I need to check the horses."
Outside, the wind screams through the trees like it’s got a grudge. The power flickers again. Ben, Henry, and Tom went out hours ago to secure the outbuildings and double-check the fencing. Ben barked orders. Tom made jokes. Henry gave Shay a long kiss and told her not to lift anything heavier than the baby growing inside her.
“I can help,” I offer, already reaching for my jacket.
He shakes his head. "Stay inside where it's warm. I’ll be back.”
“I can cope in a storm, Angus,” I say, the words carrying more weight than just the weather.
Something flickers in his eyes—recognition, maybe even longing—before he shutters it away. “Not like this one.”
The door closes behind him with a finality that makes my chest ache. I wrap my arms around myself, watching from the kitchen window as he strides through the sheeting rain toward the barn, broad shoulders hunched against the wind. He could have waited until morning. We both know the horses are secure. But he'd rather face the elements than whatever's growing between us.
He thinks pushing me away will protect me. But I didn't marry him for the easy parts.
So I stack the wood. I fill the pots. I light the candles and tighten the windows and keep busy. Because if I stay moving, I won’t have to think too hard about the cold place in my bed.
Outside, the wind screams through the trees like it’s got a grudge. The power flickers again. The men went out hours ago to secure the livestock and double-check the fencing. Ben barked orders. Tom made jokes. Henry gave Shay a long kiss and told her not to lift anything heavier than the baby growing inside her.
I glance at Shay, who sits curled on the couch, one hand resting on her just-starting-to-show belly, her eyes flicking toward the window every time the wind slams against it.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, then winces, one hand pressing a little firmer against her side. “It’s nothing.”
Jingle whines where he’s tucked against Shay, licking her arm as if he senses her discomfort.
I’m beside her before I realize I’ve moved. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
She blows out a slow breath. “It’s probably just stretching pains. Normal stuff. The baby’s only the size of a lemon.”
“You sure?”
She shrugs one shoulder, brave but not convincing. “Feels a little crampy, that’s all. Could be cupcakes.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “You need anything?”
She shakes her head, but it’s the kind of shake that leaves room for doubt. “I'm fine. Just crampy. Probably stress. Worrying about the men in the storm.”
"You sure it’s just that?"
She forces a smile. "Pretty sure. I mean, it’s way too early for anything else."
I nod, even though my stomach twists. “I’ll stay close.”
Shay reaches for my hand and squeezes. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice having another mail-order bride around this place. Although Henry didn’t pick me, not exactly. Tom and Angus… Well, they bought me. Sort of.”
My brows lift. “Sort of?”
“There was this auction,” she says, waving a hand like that somehow makes it normal. “It was meant to help the town or the veterans’ program or something. But Angus and Tom bid on me for Henry without telling him. And suddenly, here I was.”
I stare at her. “And you stayed?”
“I did,” she says, eyes distant for a second. “At first, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But then, he looked at me one day like he finally saw me. Like I wasn’t just part of the will. I was his.”
The words hit somewhere deep and a little raw. That quiet ache I’ve carried since childhood sharpens into something harder to ignore. “That man loves you. It’s clear every time he looks at you.”
Shay smiles. “Yeah, he does. The man would walk barefoot through a snowstorm to bring me pickles and then give me a foot rub.”
I laugh, but it comes out a little watery.
She tilts her head. “What about you? Why’d you come?”
I hesitate. Then, quietly, “Because I wanted something that couldn’t leave.”
Shay doesn’t say anything, but her fingers squeeze mine again.
“You ever had that?” I ask. “Somewhere you belonged?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “Not before here.”
I nod, trying to swallow around the lump rising in my throat. “Me either.”
“It takes a little time,” Shay says softly. “But this place… it has a way of making people stay.” She leans her head back, eyes fluttering closed, hand free hand resting over the slight swell of her belly. Her voice drifts softer, like she’s not talking to fill the silence—she’s sharing because she wants me to know. “My parents… they didn’t do love well. Lots of yelling. Lots of silence. My dad was an abusive alcoholic. And my mom took it. I used to think that was normal. That love was supposed to hurt a little.”
She opens her eyes, looking at me. “But Henry… he doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t walk out when it gets hard. He stays. Even when he’s grumpy about it.” A smile curves her lips. “Especially then.” There’s grit behind her smile. Strength forged from surviving things she never should’ve had to.
Something twists in my chest. Sharp and soft all at once.
I pull in a breath. Hold it. Then let the words tumble out before I can second-guess them. “Angus has been… distant. We haven’t”—I wave vaguely—“been close. Not like that. Not since our wedding night.”
Shay doesn’t react with surprise. She listens, her green eyes understanding and steady.
“He’s kind,” I continue twisting my wedding band around my finger. “He makes coffee and stacks wood and feeds the barn cats like he’s afraid they’ll think less of him if he forgets. He looks at me like—like I matter.But then he just... disappears.He doesn’t touch me. He barely looks at me some days. And I keep telling myself it’s not me. That he’s tired. Or distracted. Or?—”
“Hurting,” Shay says quietly, her hand covering mine.
I look up. “Hurting?”
She nods, her expression softening.
“It’s not my story to tell —I wasn't here then—but Angus nearly died in Kandahar. Something happened out there that changed him. Henry says when Angus came back, he was different. Quieter. Like he was carrying the weight of ghosts only he could see.”
“He mentioned being injured,” I say, remembering that day in the stables when he let his guard down for a moment. “And I’ve seen the scars.” My throat tightens as I force myself to ask the question burning inside me. “Do you think he regrets marrying me?”
Shay's expression hardens like I've just insulted her prizewinning apple pie. “Absolutely not.”
I shake my head. “But he won’t talk to me. Won’t let me in. And I’ve been through enough homes and halfway houses to know what it means when people pull away.”
Her voice sharpens—not cruel, but fierce. “You’re not in foster care anymore, Luna. You’re not a visitor in someone else’s life. You’re part of this family now. And if you want Angus, if you care about him, don’t let him crawl into that cave and shut you out. You go in after him.”
I blink, stunned by the sudden rush of emotion tightening my throat.
Shay squeezes my hand again. “You don’t have to save him. Just show up. Be there. That man’s spent a long time believing he’s not allowed to need anybody. Show him he’s wrong.”
I pull the blanket tighter around Shay, but my eyes drift to the door.
I’ve spent my whole life waiting to be chosen.
But this time, I’m not waiting. I’m choosing him. I’m choosing us .