Chapter 9 Abigail
Chapter nine
Abigail
The day slips away from me faster than I expect.
One moment, the sun is high overhead while Lawson loads me in the side-by-side and shows me the pastures, the barns, the winding trails that weave like veins through the ranch’s land.
And the next, the light has turned soft and amber, spilling through the slats of the horse barn as if the world around me has exhaled.
And I breathe it in.
Straw and leather. The earthy sweetness of hay bales stacked neatly in the corner, ready to be eaten. Horses shifting in their stalls, the gentle click of halters, and the rumble of their breath. It’s all a symphony. So unlike the one I’ve known my entire life. It’s softer. Kinder.
Lucy walks up beside me, tail wagging like she’s personally responsible for showing me around today.
Lawson tried to stay with me a majority of the day.
He was steady and patient while he explained every part of the ranch, like he was handing me a piece of him that was the most precious.
Jasper and Beau drifted in and out with their smiles and easy banter, offering teasing commentary about Lawson until he glared at them hard enough.
Which only spurred them on, of course.
Now the men are finishing up the last of their chores while I hover near the stalls, gently stroking the velvety nose of a brown mare.
It’s only been one day.
Twenty-four hours.
And yet… I feel it in my bones. An overwhelming certainty rising in my chest.
I belong here.
But I’ve always known I would.
The realization hits so strongly I have to step back for a moment as I wrap my hand around the back of my opposite arm, right where my tattoo is inked into my skin. A delicate mountain range. And just beneath it, the word I’ve carried around with me for years.
Topophilia.
Love of a place.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it here. That I’d ever get to love a place again. Not after everything. Not after New York. Not after Maxim or the Novikov’s. Not after being sold, traded, and treated like something owed rather than someone living.
But this place… the horses, the air, the quiet, the men who move around the land like guardians… it’s reminding me there are places I can truly exist safely.
Gliding my hand along the stall door, I watch Lawson, Jasper, and Beau from across the barn.
They’re so different from the men I grew up around.
Different from Aleksandr and Maxim. Different from every cold, sharp-edged Bratva man who ever looked at me like I was a tool or a burden or a body they thought they had a right to lay claim to.
The three of them move freely. Fully alive in their own skin. They smile wide and often. Even Lawson. They touch their horses with a reverence I have never seen. And they work like they’ve got purpose buried in their bones and pride weathered into their hands.
In only a day, I can tell—there’re no threats. No hidden motives. No calculating cruelty.
Just men.
Real men. Good men.
Jasper is the first to notice me watching.
He gives me a lazy, crooked grin from where he’s stacking hay bales with enough reckless enthusiasm to make me nervous.
He laughs loudly, works quickly, and moves like he’s got adrenaline humming in his blood.
Beau is brushing down one of the mares at the far end of the barn, humming something under his breath, warm and solid and steady.
And Lawson… Lawson looks born for this. He’s confident.
Focused. Every movement purposeful. A man fully settled in his own skin.
They’re so unfiltered. Unafraid. It’s almost strange to watch.
A soft nudge presses into my shoulder, gaining my attention. Griffin, the brown-and-white paint gelding Lawson told me to “give space,” is standing so close his whiskers are tickling my arm.
“Oh,” I breathe softly. “Hello there, handsome.”
Lawson appears at my side so fast I swear it’s like he materializes out of thin air. His brows are pinched, and his arms are crossed over his chest. “Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “Grif doesn’t let anybody in his space.”
I blink. “He lets you.”
“Yeah, well, he tolerates me. Sometimes.” One corner of Lawson’s mouth lifts. “Probably because he can sense our similar disdain for most people. But he damn sure doesn’t walk up to strangers. Especially when I’m not around.”
Griffin nudges my shoulder again, more insistent this time, as if to prove a point. I laugh softly and slowly stroke his broad cheek. Lawson watches the movement like he’s trying to make sense of the anomaly.
After a moment, a question bubbles up, one that’s been in the back of my mind for most of the day. “Lawson. Can I ask you something?”
He glances over at me, jaw tightening the way I’ve noticed it does when he’s deciding how much of himself to give to me. “‘Course.”
“I’ve met you, Jasper, Beau…” My gaze flicks across the barn to where the two of them are still horsing around like teenagers. “But I still haven’t met Lincoln. Where’s he been all day?”
“He’s been upstairs in the office handling some business with our banker and signing off on some cattle sale contracts,” Lawson says, nodding at the ceiling above us.
“Linc deals with most of the paperwork and legal stuff for the ranch, as well as a lot of Jasper’s contracts. He’ll be at the house for dinner.”
“Oh,” I nod. “So he’s the serious one around here.”
That earns me the smallest curve of a smile. “He’s a lot of things. But serious isn’t the word I’d use. He’d probably argue with me about that, though. Ya know, lawyers and all.”
I smile, imagining the fourth man I have yet to meet. Wondering what another dynamic will feel like. Another energy.
But before I can ask anything more, Griffin bumps me again, so hard I stumble lightly into Lawson’s side. His hand grips my elbow automatically, steadying me.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “Looks like he might claim you as his if you’re not careful.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, laughing.
“For him?” he mutters. “Not at all.” Then quieter, almost to himself, “For me? Remains to be seen.”
My cheeks warm as I pretend I didn’t hear the last part and say, “For a horse that doesn’t like anyone he sure seems to be content with being my new buddy.”
“I’m not lying. He won’t even look at Beau.”
The man himself snorts as he walks toward us from across the barn. “He kicked at me last week.”
Jasper chimes in next to him, “He kicked at everyone last week.”
But Griffin only sighs as I go back to stroking his coat, as if he can’t believe they would speak so poorly of him.
Lawson shakes his head, almost smiling. “Eight years we’ve had this damn horse. Eight. You’re the first person he’s taken to without bribery.”
I don’t know how to respond to that because it doesn’t make any sense. None of how I’m feeling about this place makes sense. Or maybe… maybe it makes too much sense. Maybe this is what true belonging feels like.
“So,” Lawson says, watching Griffin practically melt beneath my hand, “think you’re ready for some dinner and to meet the last member of our four ring circus?”
Beau laughs. “He’ll be in a great mood. I haven’t seen him come down all day which means he’s exhausted. And hungry. And grumpy. He gets real grumpy when he’s hungry.”
Jasper scoffs. “He gets grumpy when he’s not hungry.”
“He gets grumpy when he breathes,” Beau adds.
Lawson tries and fails to hide his smile behind his hand. I’m still smiling when he asks, “So, you want to eat with us tonight? In the main house?” His voice is warm but careful. “Figured I still owe you the rest of the tour, and Beau and I are cooking.”
“We always cook,” Beau grumbles.
Jasper barks a laugh. “Thank God, or Linc and I might starve.
I glance toward the glowing windows of the main house despite no one being inside.
Like a beacon calling me toward the sound of a home.
Laughter, clattering pans, people talking to one another around the dinner table.
The sky above us is turning peach and lavender now, letting us know the workday is done.
“I’d like that,” I say softly. “Dinner with all of you.”
Lawson just nods. “Good. Then let’s finish getting these horses settled, and we can head in.”
And like I did all day, I follow him willingly.
Not because I have to.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because, somehow, I feel like I’ve stepped into a life where I might get to stay.