Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Abigail
The smell hits me before I even make it all the way downstairs after taking a long bath.
It’s warm. Buttery. Savory. And it immediately makes my stomach tighten with hunger.
“Lawson,” I call as I round the corner into the kitchen. “If that’s what I think it is, I might actually cry.”
He doesn’t turn from the stove, but I can see the corner of his mouth lift. “You cry all the time now anyway.”
“Shush,” I say immediately, sliding onto one of the spots at the island. “I’m pregnant with one of your giant babies. I’m allowed.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re so right. Sorry, Honey.”
Chuckling under his breath, he turns back to the stove.
The kitchen is warm and bright as Lawson moves easily between the stove and the counter.
There’s a pot of creamy mashed potatoes steaming on the stove.
Beside it is a pan of chicken-fried steak sizzling in gravy, and tucked away on the counter are what look like a batch of double-chocolate chip muffins.
“You made chicken-fried steak,” I say reverently, resting my chin on my hand.
“You said you were craving it this morning.” He says it like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“And the muffins.” God dammit. I am going to cry.
“Well, those are kinda for me too. I also got you some orange soda. I don’t know where this random flavor combo came from, but your wish is my command.”
“You’re like a real-life superhero.”
Lawson snorts softly.
I watch him for a minute before my eyes drift toward the closed door of the home office.
They were all in there when I went upstairs to take a bath.
“What are the three of them doing in there?”
Lawson doesn’t look up from the pan he’s tending. “Just finishing up some… stuff for a project.”
I raise a brow. “Stuff for a project?”
“Mhm.”
His shoulders go stiff, and I slide off the stool.
For everything Lawson Taylor is—strong, steady, capable, handsome, generous—he’s an absolutely terrible liar.
Walking over to him, I run my hand across his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the tension sitting there like a brick. “What project, Lawson?”
“Nothin’ you need to worry about, Honey.”
“Lawson Taylor…”
He exhales slowly before setting the spatula down on the counter and turning to face me. Before I can say anything else, his hands come up, and he gently cradles my face, thumbs brushing gently along my cheeks. “Please don’t make me lie to you.”
I’m a little taken aback.
Why is he keeping secrets?
What in the world is going on?
“Then don’t.”
His hand drifts down to my stomach. The moment his palm settles there, his expression softens in a way it always does when he’s looking at me like this. “So precious,” he says under his breath. It’s so quiet, I’m not sure he even meant to say it out loud.
My resolve melts a little.
“I promise you’ll find out when the time is right. But it’s nothing we want you worrying about.” He squeezes my hip gently. “We’re taking care of it.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he stops me with a small shake of his head.
“Plus,” he adds, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth, “we have something else we want to talk to you about after dinner.”
I blink. “Bad?”
His smile widens. “Nope. Good. So very good.”
Before I can press him any further, the office door swings open and Lincoln, Beau, and Jas wander out.
Jasper stretches his arms over his head. “Jesus. If I look at one more statement today, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
Statement?
“That’s because you can barely read,” Beau shoots back.
“I can read, you fuckin’ dick,” he snaps.
Lincoln walks past them both, rubbing the back of his neck like he has a kink in it. “Barely.”
“Okay, whoa. I don’t know why it’s suddenly gang up on Jasper day, but—”
Beau’s eyes land on me across the kitchen, and his entire face lights up. “Well, look at that. My favorite girl.”
“Your only girl,” I point out.
“Nuh uh,” Linc adds, walking past me, but not before he places a kiss on my belly and then my cheek.
Beau’s eyes light in excitement. “Wait. I thought we were waiting to—”
“It’s just a feeling,” Lincoln and I answer in unison.
Beau beams at the thought of a little girl running around. Before I can react, his hands slide around my waist, and he lifts me in the air. “Beau!” I yelp, grabbing his shoulders.
He sets me up on the kitchen counter and makes himself comfortable between my legs. “There. Better vantage point.”
I snort. “For what?”
“For admiring how absolutely breathtaking you are. Obviously.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop smiling.
“You’re so ridiculous sometimes it’s not even funny.
“Mhm,” he hums, brushing his knuckles along my thigh. “Maybe.” His gaze softens as it drops to my stomach before coming back up to my face. “You feelin’ okay today?”
“I’m good.”
“Baby behavin’?”
“For now. I’m sure as soon as I lie down for bed later, he or she will be wide awake.”
Every day that passes, the flutters come more often.
Beau grins. “Smart kid.”
“Must not be yours then,” Jasper grumbles. Beau doesn’t hesitate to reach out and backhand him in the chest.
Across the kitchen, Lawson slides the last piece of steak onto a platter and wipes his hands on a towel. “Alright. Dinner’s ready.”
And as easily as he put me up here, Beau lifts me and carries me over to the dining room table.
Dinner ends the way Sunday dinners around here usually do—slow, warm, and full of quiet conversations, full bellies, and love.
The plates have been pushed aside, the last of the gravy on my plate wiped up with the final piece of bread, and the five of us are still sitting around the big wooden table—none of us in a hurry to move.
My finger absentmindedly rubs the scuff on the edge where I’m sitting.
Last week I dropped a plate, and when it fell to its inevitable demise, it scratched the wood along the way. Not only did I feel terrible about breaking a plate, but I felt even worse over the scratch.
Lawson didn’t hesitate to smile widely as he told me, “It’s alright, Honey. That’s what this table is for. You’re part of it now. Just like the rest of this place.”
He then proceeded to point out a handful of other nicks and scratches in the wood, all while telling me the stories attached to each of them.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my heart swell.
I can’t wait until this baby is lucky enough to make their mark on it too.
Looking around their table, I take my time eyeing up all four of my men.
Jasper is leaned back in his chair on two legs, balancing like Lawson hasn’t told him a thousand times not to do that.
Beau’s elbow rests on the table while he spins his fork between his fingers, laughing at something Jasper just said.
Lawson sits beside me, broad and steady, his shoulder brushing mine every time either of us shifts.
And when I look at Lincoln, he winks before pushing back his chair. “Be right back.”
None of us questions it as he walks toward his office. He’s only inside it for a second or two before he’s on his way back with a thick file folder in hand.
The other three sit forward and refocus their attention on him as he retakes his seat.
My brows pinch. “What’s that?”
Lincoln doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his expression remains calm as he nods to his older brother.
Lawson’s hand settles on my thigh, and I glance over at him just as he turns slightly toward me.
“Abigail,” he says quietly. Something in his tone lets me know this is important.
His thumb brushes steadily against my leg as he continues.
“This place… this ranch…” His gaze drifts briefly around the house before coming back to me.
“It would never feel like home again without you in it. If you ever left, it wouldn’t be the same. Not for any of us.”
I look around to find three sets of eyes, not on the man speaking, but on me.
“You’re part of our family now. This baby is our family.” His hand slides gently to my stomach. “Willow Creek ranch is your home, Abigail.”
Tears burn in my eyes before I can stop them.
Lincoln clears his throat softly before opening the file folder and sliding it across the table toward me. His eyes bore into mine as he says, “Which is why we want you to own part of it.”
The words knock the air out of me.
My eyes bounce between the folder and the four men sitting at this table.
“Own—you—wait—what?”
“We want you to own the ranch. With us.” The corners of Lincoln’s lips twitch as he repeats his requests as simply as possible.
My mouth drops open so wide I’m surprised my chin doesn’t put another dent in the table.
“Not that it matters,” Jas adds, scratching the back of his neck, “but Chris and Billie are fully on board too.”
My head shakes automatically. “No. I can’t. This is—it’s too much. I-I don’t—I could never ask you guys to—”
“It’s not too much,” Lawson interrupts gently.
His voice is firm in that calm and steady way he knows will get me to recenter myself.
“This ranch has been in our family since our grandparents bought it. We want it to still be here long after we’re gone.
Which is why we’re fighting so hard to keep it. ”
A quiet look passes between the four of them.
“You are part of that now, Abigail. And so is this baby.”
Emotion clogs my throat as he gestures softly around us.
Beau reaches across the table and brushes his fingers gently against mine.
“This place has a way of finding the people who need it most. Of pulling them in and giving them a family when they thought they’d never have one again.
” His thumb drags slowly over my knuckles.
“It knows who belongs here. Who will take care of it the way it deserves. And you, my sweet girl, were always meant to belong to it.”
“You’re our home now, Abbie Girl.” Jasper’s emerald eyes shine bright as he looks at me. “We found one in you. Let us give one back to you in return.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. Looking down at the folder, I find my name is typed neatly across the top page, and behind it are legal documents, ownership agreements, land percentages. “You guys are serious,” I whisper.
Beau scoffs. “Abbie, I think I can confidently speak for all of us when I say that we would give you this entire ranch if you asked for it. So owning it with you… a no-brainer, Darlin’.”
Linc nods in agreement. “If you want it, all you have to do is sign. Everything’s already ready to go.”
My finger hovers over the pen sitting on top of the pile of paperwork.
I look around the table one more time.
At four men who had a life before I got here.
One that was everything they wanted it to be.
One that, from the outside, looked like it had no room for a woman like me.
And yet—they made room for me anyway. No.
They didn’t just make room. They put me at the center of it and made room for everything else.
“You’re really sure?” I ask softly.
Four voices answer at once. “Absolutely.”
Permanence.
It was something I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.
And here I’ve found it with them.
I’ve found a home.
I pick up the pen, my hand trembling just slightly as I sign my new name across the dotted line.
Abigail Adams.
I say a silent thank you to the woman I once was. The woman that was brave enough to run. To fight. To be free.
Anya Akimov was who I once was. But Abigail Adams was who I was always meant to be.
The second the pen leaves the paper, I look up to find four huge smiles greeting me.
Lawson leans closer, pride shining in his eyes. “Congratulations, Abigail Adams. You are now co-owner of Willow Creek Ranch.