Chapter 1 Strays
Strays
Audra Sinclair
(Engaged to Beckett Sinclair)
The lodge was chaos, and I loved every second of it.
A toddler barreled past my legs, shrieking with delight, followed closely by a golden retriever and Evelyn’s exasperated voice calling, “Zeke! We don’t run near the—”
A crash from somewhere near the dessert table. Someone laughed. One of the kids wailed briefly, then stopped.
This was family dinner at Resting Warrior Ranch. Multiplied by Christmas Eve and about forty thousand cookies.
Beckett’s hand found mine under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles against my palm. An anchor. A reminder. You’re here. You’re safe. This is real.
I still needed those reminders sometimes.
“More wine?” Jada appeared at my elbow, bottle in hand, her warm smile already in place.
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” She was already pouring. “Live dangerously.”
Across the massive dining table—which still wasn’t big enough for everyone, people spilling onto couches and chairs and corners of the floor—Lachlan was trying to convince his daughter that mashed potatoes were not, in fact, a weapon.
Sadie disagreed. Loudly. Caleb, her twin, had already smeared his portion across his high chair tray and was working on his hair.
“She gets that from you,” Piper told her husband, wiping potato from her sleeve with the resigned efficiency of a woman who’d stopped caring about clean clothes eighteen months ago.
“The stubbornness or the aim?” Lachlan asked.
“Both.”
Lachlan grinned, that easy smile I’d seen transform his whole face whenever he looked at his family.
The sheriff of Garnet Bend, the man who’d arrested my stalker, who’d stood in that interrogation room and made sure justice was served—reduced to a mess of heart-eyes by a toddler with vegetable-covered fingers.
I understood. God, I understood.
Last Christmas Eve, I’d been in a motel outside Reno.
I hadn’t slept. Just sat in a hard plastic chair by the window, watching the parking lot, waiting for headlights that might mean death.
My hand had kept drifting to the burn scar on the back of my neck—still healing then, still raw—and I’d wondered if I’d ever stop running.
Now I had an engagement ring on my finger. Two months engaged to a man who’d stood between me and a monster, who’d pulled me from a frozen river, who’d looked at all my broken pieces and decided to stay anyway.
I had friends who texted me just to check in. Who’d invited me to help with the holiday craft fair booth. Who passed their baby pictures around like I’d always been part of their circle.
I had Jet pressed against my leg under the table, his warmth a constant comfort, his ridiculous “Hero Dog: Now Specializing in Hugs” vest slightly crooked because he’d been playing with the kids earlier.
I had this. All of this.
The scar on my neck didn’t throb anymore. It was just a scar now. A reminder of what I’d survived, not what defined me.
“You’re doing it again.” Beckett’s voice was low, meant only for me.
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you look around like you’re memorizing everything. Like it might disappear.”
I turned to face him. Those gray eyes, steady as always, saw right through me. They always had.
“Maybe I am.”
His hand tightened on mine. “It’s not going anywhere. Neither am I.”
“I know.” And I did. Finally, after everything, I actually believed it.
“Okay, but we need to talk about what happened at Deja Brew last week.” Lena’s voice cut through the surrounding noise, her purple streak bright in the lamplight, as she rubbed her very pregnant belly.
“For those who haven’t heard—and I know some of you haven’t because certain people are too embarrassed to tell the story themselves. Ahem, namely my husband.”
Jude, who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, suddenly became very interested in his mashed potatoes.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Coop said, leaning forward.
“So, I’m behind the counter, right? Normal Tuesday morning. And in walks our favorite silent mountain.” She gestured at Jude with her fork. “Orders his usual black coffee, no sugar, no cream, nothing fancy. Very on brand.”
“Woman,” Jude muttered, shaking his head.
“Except there’s a little girl in line behind him.
Maybe six years old. Visiting her grandma for the holidays.
” Lena was grinning now. “And this child looks up at Jude—all six-foot-four, two-hundred-forty pounds of him—and says, completely serious, ‘Are you a giant? Like from Jack and the Beanstalk?’”
Soft laughter rippled around the table.
“And Jude, weapons specialist, former Navy SEAL, the man who once made a suspect cry just by staring at him—” She paused for effect. “Gets down on one knee so he’s at her eye level and says, ‘Yes. But I’m a friendly giant. I only eat vegetables.’”
The table erupted.
“That’s not—it wasn’t—” Jude’s deep voice rumbled with protest, but even he was fighting a smile.
“Then she asked if she could touch his muscles, and he actually flexed for her.” Lena was nearly crying with laughter. “I have witnesses. The father of my unborn child, flexing for a little girl. Her grandmother tipped me five dollars for the show.”
“The child was curious,” Jude muttered, standing up and pulling Lena against him, equal parts love and exasperation clear in his eyes. “It would have been rude to refuse.”
Coop was wheezing. “A friendly giant. I’m getting that put on a T-shirt.”
“You will not.”
“Too late. Already texting Travis.”
The banter continued, layering over itself—Emma mentioned finding her and Daniel’s five-year-old son Tyson attempting to get a ladder out of the shed so he could climb to the roof and leave a sleeping bag there, evidently to catch Santa in the act when he arrived later tonight.
Then someone else brought up Al Pacacino’s relocation from Resting Warrior to Pawsitive, before Lucas and Hunter got into their eternal argument about the best way to smoke a brisket.
“It’s been three years,” Jada said, leaning into Hunter’s side. “At this point, the only winner is the brisket.”
Hunter snorted. “And all the people I’ve saved from eating Lucas’s version.”
“You keep telling yourself that, cuz,” Lucas called from across the room, where he was helping Evelyn wrestle a squirming Avery into her coat.
I watched them all—this family that had chosen me, that had folded me into their lives without question.
Daniel and Emma standing close, their son Tyson asleep on Daniel’s shoulder.
Aiden’s massive frame taking up nearly two chairs, quiet as always but present, watchful.
Piper catching my eye and giving me that soft smile, one survivor to another.
And Beckett beside me. Always beside me.
This was what I’d been running toward. I just hadn’t known it.
“Hey, you guys, the storm’s coming in faster than they predicted.”
Lucas’s voice cut through the warmth, his gaze fixed on the window. Outside, the snow had picked up, swirling in patterns that even I—still learning Montana—recognized as ominous.
The atmosphere shifted. Subtle but unmistakable.
“We should head out,” Evelyn said, already gathering kids. “Before the roads get bad.”
“Agreed.” Lachlan was on his feet, Sadie balanced on his hip while Piper collected Caleb. “Last thing I need is to rescue half the county from snowdrifts on Christmas morning.”
The party began breaking up with practiced efficiency—these people knew Montana weather, knew what a real blizzard could do. Coats appeared. Kids were bundled. Someone started packing leftover cookies into containers.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, expecting a holiday text from one of the other women. Instead, Lark’s name flashed on the screen. She was out of town. Beckett and I were handling things at Pawsitive while she was gone for a few days.
I answered. “Lark? Everything okay?”
“Audra, I’m so sorry to do this.” Her voice was tight, rushed. “I know the timing is terrible and it’s Christmas Eve.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just got a call from Ray Hewitt—he lives about twenty minutes outside Garnet Bend, past the Miller property. He was driving home and spotted a dog on the side of the road. Abandoned. He couldn’t stop—had his grandmother in the car and needed to get her home before the storm hit—but he called me because he knows I take in strays. ”
My stomach clenched. “A dog left on the side of the road in this weather?”
“That’s why I’m calling you. Ray said the dog looked rough.
Thin.” Frustration bled through her words.
“I know you and Beckett have your hands completely full with the rest of the Pawsitive animals, but most of my rescue contacts either can’t get out or aren’t in town.
The weather apps say the storm coming in is big—”
“We’ll go.”
The words came out before I could second-guess them. Because I knew what it was like to be abandoned. To be cold and scared and alone, wondering if anyone would come.
Plus, it was the right thing to do and I was a hundred percent certain Beckett would agree.
“Are you sure? The roads are only going to get worse. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you two because I asked you to—”
“We’ll go,” I repeated. “Where exactly?”
“About a mile past the old Miller barn, on the right side of the road. Ray said the dog was near a fence post, wouldn’t come to him when he called.” She paused, and I could hear the guilt in her voice. “Thank you, Audra. I’m so sorry. Some Christmas Eve, huh?”
“Don’t be sorry. We’ve got this.”
At least I hoped we did. Everyone was quickly moving out, hugging and giving Christmas well-wishes as the storm started to look more threatening by the minute.
“Call me when you find it? Let me know everyone’s safe?”
“I will. Promise.”
I was already standing when I hung up, catching Beckett’s attention with a look. He straightened immediately, reading my expression.
“What’s wrong?”