Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Abigail
For the love of God, Mom. Please stop.”
Lawson’s voice carries across the living room, deep and strained in that familiar way he gets when he’s two seconds away from physically separating Beau and Jasper.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the coffee table, three thick photo albums stacked in my lap like treasure, and I absolutely refuse to let his mom stop now.
“Oh no,” Billie says before I get to, all while flipping another plastic-covered page with deliberate slowness. “There’s no stopping me now.”
Lincoln groans from the couch behind me. “I find it funny how you didn’t want to stop by your house first, and yet here you are. Three photo albums deep, which were conveniently kept at your house.”
I clutch them tighter to my chest. “Please don’t make her stop. You guys were so cute.”
Beau laughs from the armchair, long legs stretched out in front of him. “I was the cutest though, right, Darlin’?”
I smile widely at him.
If someone had told me only a few hours ago that I’d be on the living room floor, giddy over awkward teenage photos, I would have… well… I would have felt less like throwing up, that’s for sure.
When the front door opened and Chris’s voice boomed, my heart tried to crawl up my throat and out of my mouth. My palms were sweating. My brain was spiraling.
But all it took was one look at them both, and I felt my heart rate instantly slow.
Billie wasn’t what I expected—and somehow exactly what I should have.
She’s a little taller than me, but she carries herself like she’s taller than every man in the room.
Her eyes are bright green—same as Lincoln’s—and they’re sharp in a way that says she misses absolutely nothing.
Her hair is dark brown, the same deep shade as Lawson’s, threaded with silver strands she doesn’t bother hiding.
It falls in soft waves around her shoulders, framing a face that’s lined just enough to tell you she’s lived a full, complicated life, and smiled through most of it.
There’s strength in her posture. In the way she stands, with her weight evenly balanced. In the way she looks at her sons—like she knows she raised good men.
She’s beautiful.
And she didn’t hesitate when she saw me. Didn’t narrow her eyes or stiffen. She walked straight past all four boys to me and pulled me into a hug before I’d even properly introduced myself.
“You must be Abigail,” she said, squeezing me tight. “You’re just as pretty as I knew you’d be. My boys are quite lucky.”
I don’t know what it was about those words, but tears stung at my eyes.
Chris followed a second later, and I swear I understood immediately why these boys are the way they are.
He’s handsome in a quiet, unassuming way.
The kind that probably turned heads without him even trying when he was younger—still probably does now.
His eyes are dark like Lawson’s, intense and deep.
There’s that same protective instinct in them.
That same readiness to shoulder whatever needs carrying.
But when he smiles—
God.
It’s Lincoln’s smile. Wide and warm and just slightly crooked at the corner, like his face almost isn’t used to the gesture. It softens everything about him. Laugh lines carve deep around his eyes, and his hands are large and rough when he shakes mine—working hands. Ranch hands.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” he said, voice low and sincere. “We’ve heard nothing but good things.”
And just like that… I realized I’d been worried for nothing.
Now, hours later, I’m sitting in the living room, staring down at a photo of sixteen-year-old Lawson scowling at the camera, hair too long, jaw a bit sharper, one arm slung protectively around a much smaller Lincoln.
“Oh my god,” I whisper before trying and failing to cover up a laugh.
Jasper walks in a second later with a tray of coffee mugs. “Remember when—” he says, handing Beau a cup. “You tried to ride that bull bareback and Chris made you muck stalls for a month?”
Chris huffs. “That was generous.”
“I was a teenage boy trying to work out some angst, okay?” Beau defends.
“You were dumb,” Lincoln says, leaning forward to grab his mug.
Jas continues to hand them out one by one. Lincoln gets a splash of Baileys. Lawson gets whiskey. Chris too. Billie waves hers off.
“Black is fine. Thank you, sweetie,” she says, smiling up at Jasper.
When he gets to me, his expression shifts just slightly. Softer. Happier. “Cream and sugar,” he says, pressing the mug into my hands.
It’s a small thing, them always remembering my coffee just how I like it. And yet… it isn’t.
I watch the way Lincoln shifts on the couch to make room for Billie beside him when she gets tired of sitting on the floor, his arm draped across the back behind her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Or the way Law leans forward when Chris talks, really listening to his father, even when he pretends to be annoyed at his parents’ antics.
I see the way Jasper rests his hand on Chris’s shoulder as he passes behind him, squeezing once. Chris reaches up automatically, patting his hand in return.
Meanwhile, Beau leans into Billie’s other side when she teases him about a disastrous high school haircut, and she nudges him with her elbow like he’s been hers since the day he was born.
They may not share blood, but you would never know it. There’s no divide. No invisible line.
Just history. And choice. And love.
This is why the four of them are the way that they are.
This is why Lincoln double-checks the locks at night. Why Lawson carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why Jasper pretends he doesn’t need anyone but always shows up anyway. And why Beau loves so openly it almost hurts.
They learned it here.
From them.
Lincoln’s fingers find my shoulder from where I’m still sitting on the floor. Reaching up, I lace them together without even looking, and his thumb brushes small circles over my knuckles absentmindedly.
Lawson stands to grab another album at his mom’s request—regardless of all his groaning—and presses a kiss to the top of my head as he passes.
And when Jasper comes back into the living room, he drops onto the arm of the couch and hooks a finger into the collar of my sweater, tugging me back just enough to steal a quick kiss.
Noticing my ridiculously wide smile, Jasper rises from his spot just to crouch down next to me and whisper in my ear, “I love seeing you smile like this.” Before kissing my cheek and returning to the end of the couch.
None of them hide it.
None of them temper it.
And when I turn around to see if Billie was watching, I see the way her eyes shine at the sight of her boys loving me.
Chris’s too.
There’s no discomfort. No confusion. No judgement.
Just quiet approval as they watch their boys find something every parent dreams of for their children.
“She’s good for you,” Billie says, not bothering to lower her voice all too much.
I can hear the smile in Lincoln’s voice. “We know.”
My cheeks burn as Chris looks at me. His dark eyes are kind and thoughtful. “Yeah,” he says simply. “You’ve got yourselves a keeper.”
I feel that all the way down to my toes.
Eventually, Billie sighs and pats her knees. “We should get goin’ before I start tellin’ the really embarrassing stories.”
“There are worse?” I ask with excitement.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says as she stands. “We’ve barely scratched the surface.”
The boys groan in unison while Chris, Billie, and I let out a laugh.
The five of us walk them to the door. Hugs are exchanged. Cheeks are kissed. Backs are slapped. And promises of dinner in a couple of days are made.
“Love you, Mama,” Lincoln says, pulling his mom into a tight hug.
“Love you too,” she replies softly as she smiles up at him.
Lawson hugs Chris next, their grips firm and wordless. Beau and Jasper follow without hesitation, and it strikes me again how seamless it all is.
When Billie turns to me, her expression softens.
She wraps her arms around me like she’s done it a hundred times before, holding me just as tightly as she did when she first walked through the door only a few hours ago.
The notion has tears stinging my eyes as I try to remember the last time I felt so much love from my own mother.
Leaning in, Billie’s lips brush my ear. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispers. “I’m so happy you're safe.”
Dammit. I was really trying not to cry.
“And I’m even happier you found our boys.”
Well now it’s practically useless.
A small tear escapes, and when she pulls back, she cups my face for just a second, smiling at me like she already knows everything she needs to know. She brushes the lone tear away with her thumb before giving me one last parting smile.
The door closes behind them a moment later.
The house feels different now.
Fuller. Lighter.
Lincoln’s arm wraps around my waist from behind. Lawson’s hand reaches out to brush mine before Jasper presses a kiss to my temple.
Beau bumps my shoulder with his, smiling down at me. “You did good, Darlin’.”
I exhale slowly.
This morning, I was terrified of what their parents would see when they looked at me.
But I should have known better.
Those people are where my boys learned to love.
And now, somehow, that love is mine too.