Chapter 15 #2
Rae pushes the back door open a few seconds later, the hinges creaking softly as she steps out onto the porch with a steaming mug in her hand.
The cool morning air curls around her immediately, tugging at the loose strands of hair that escaped whatever halfhearted attempt she made to pull it back earlier.
She’s wearing leggings and one of those oversized hoodies that swallow half her frame, and for a second she just stands there blinking into the pale morning light like she’s still waking up.
Then she spots me leaning against the railing.
Her mouth curves into that familiar crooked smile.
She walks over without saying anything at first and presses the mug into my hand, the ceramic warm against my palm. The smell of strong coffee rises up immediately, dark and sharp, and I wrap my fingers around it without thinking.
“What’re you doing out here?” she asks, her voice still rough with sleep.
I take a sip before answering, letting the heat burn down my throat while I watch the mist lifting slowly off the pasture.
“Phone call.”
She hums softly like that makes sense, then leans her hip against the railing beside me and takes a sip from her own mug.
For a minute neither of us says anything, just standing there while the morning wakes up around the farm.
Somewhere near the barn a goat knocks something over, and Sheriff lets out another offended crow like he’s announcing the end of civilization.
Rae glances sideways at me.
“You’ve been up long?”
“A couple of minutes.”
“Could’ve woken me,” she says.
I shake my head slightly. “You were sleeping.”
That seems to satisfy her. She takes another drink of coffee and looks out over the pasture the same way I was a second ago, her expression going calm in that quiet way she gets when the farm is just starting to come alive.
Watching her like this does something strange to my chest.
She doesn’t rush mornings. Doesn’t move like someone who’s already thinking about ten different things at once. She just stands there, breathing in the cool air, letting the world wake up around her.
After a minute she nudges my arm lightly with her elbow.
“You’re brooding.”
“I’m drinking coffee.”
“Same thing with you.”
I huff out a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh.
She studies me for another second, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s trying to read something on my face.
“What’d Mason want?” she asks.
I glance down at her.
The question doesn’t come out accusing or suspicious. It sounds casual, like she already expects the answer to be something boring.
Part of me considers lying.
Another part knows she’d see through it in about five seconds.
“Riot’s tracking Voss,” I say finally.
The shift in her body is small but I feel it immediately. Her shoulders go a little tighter, and she stares out across the pasture instead of looking at me.
“He find him?”
“Working on it.”
She nods once and lifts her mug again, but I notice the way her fingers tighten slightly around the handle.
Silence settles between us again for a few seconds.
Then she exhales slowly.
“You’re thinking about going after him.”
It isn’t really a question.
I look out across the field, watching the sun start pushing through the fog along the fence line.
“Yeah.”
She’s quiet beside me for a long moment after that. Then she says softly, “Cole…”
I turn my head toward her. Her eyes finally meet mine. “You can’t go getting yourself killed over me.”
Something in my chest tightens immediately. I step a little closer without thinking, lowering my voice so the words come out steady and certain. “I’m not getting killed.”
She searches my face like she’s trying to decide whether she believes that. “What about the guys who were with him?” she asks.
My jaw tightens slightly as the memory flashes again. The bruises. The way she tried to act like it didn’t hurt. “They don’t get a pass either,” I say quietly.
Rae studies me for another second. Then she sighs softly and bumps her shoulder against mine again. “You’re stubborn.”
“You noticed.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, taking another sip of coffee. “Unfortunately.”
I glance down at her again. The wind lifts a few strands of hair across her cheek and she tucks them behind her ear absentmindedly while staring out at the pasture.
She looks calm. Peaceful. Like the world hasn’t already tried to knock her down once this month.
My chest tightens again. Because the truth sitting under all of this is simple. No one gets to hurt her. Not while I’m breathing.
I take another sip of coffee and lean against the railing beside her, letting our shoulders touch while the sun slowly climbs over the edge of the fields.
I watch the steam curl slowly off the top of my mug while Rae’s words settle between us like something heavier than they should be.
The farm is waking up around us, early light stretching across the pasture while the animals start moving in the distance, but the air on the porch suddenly feels tighter than it did a minute ago.
My eyes drift toward her when she speaks again.
“What happens when you take care of him?” Rae asks quietly.
I glance over at her. She’s staring out across the field, not looking at me now.
“I’m assuming you’re killing him,” she adds, her voice steady in that careful way people use when they’re trying not to sound like they care too much. “And then what? He won’t be a problem anymore.”
I turn more fully toward her, studying her face like I’m trying to read something written there that she hasn’t said out loud yet. Her expression is calm, but there’s tension around her mouth, something tight behind her eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“What are you really asking?” I say.
She finally looks at me then.
For a moment she doesn’t answer.
And somehow my silence seems to fill in whatever gap she left in that question.
Something shifts behind her eyes. She exhales slowly and turns her gaze back toward the pasture.
“Look,” Rae says, her tone changing, becoming lighter in that forced way people use when they’ve already decided how something is going to end. “We’ve had fun out here this past week, holed up with my crazy crew and playing farm life. And don’t get me wrong, it’s been… nice.”
I feel my shoulders go still.
“But this isn’t real life,” she continues, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug like she’s trying to brush it off before it matters too much. “I know that, and I don’t expect anything from you.”
My jaw tightens.
She keeps talking anyway.
“You’ve got your life with the club. I’ve got mine here. You were here because of Wayne and the bar and Voss and all that mess, and once that’s handled…” She shrugs again, smaller this time. “Well. That’s that.”
Something cold settles in my chest.
“So let’s just call this what it is,” she finishes quietly.
For a second I just stare at her.
Because the words don’t make sense in my head.
Not after the last week. Not after the mornings on this porch and the nights in her bed and the way she fits against me like she’s always belonged there.
“You think that’s what this is?” I ask slowly.
She turns toward me again.
“It’s the truth,” Rae says.
“Bullshit.”
The word leaves my mouth sharper than I intended, but I don’t bother pulling it back.
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Rae crosses her arms now, leaning one shoulder against the porch railing as she watches me.
“I’m being realistic,” she says.
“You’re pushing me away.”
Her eyes flash. “I’m not pushing anything. I’m acknowledging the obvious.”
I step closer without really thinking about it, setting my mug down on the railing beside me.
“The obvious,” I repeat, my voice dropping lower.
“Yes,” she says firmly. “The obvious.”
“That I came out here to deal with a problem,” I continue, watching her carefully. “That I stayed longer than planned. That we had some fun. And now things go back to normal.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Something inside my chest pulls tight.
“That’s not what this is.”
She lets out a short laugh that doesn’t sound amused.
“Cole, you don’t even live here.”
“And?”
“And you’re an Iron Reaper,” Rae says like it should be obvious. “You ride around handling problems and breaking faces for a living. I run a bar and a barn full of animals. Those two lives don’t exactly line up.”
“You don’t get to decide what lines up for me.”
Her chin lifts slightly.
“I’m not deciding anything for you,” she says. “I’m just not pretending this is something it isn’t.”
My hands flex at my sides.
“You think the last week meant nothing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what the hell are you saying, Rae?”
She hesitates.
Just for a second.
But I see it.
“I’m saying I’m not stupid,” she says finally. “You’ll go deal with Voss. Then you’ll go back to Jackson and back to the club. That’s how your world works.”
“And you’ve got me all figured out?”
“Pretty much.”
A humorless laugh leaves my chest.
“That’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re wrong.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “About what?”
“About me leaving.”
The words sit there between us.
For a moment Rae just stares at me like she didn’t expect that answer.
Then she shakes her head slowly.
“You don’t mean that.”
My patience snaps.
“You don’t get to tell me what I mean.”
Her voice rises now too.
“And you don’t get to stand here pretending you’re going to settle down on a goat farm like this is some kind of fairytale!”
I step closer again, close enough now that I can see the quick jump of her pulse in her throat.
“Who said anything about a fairytale?”
“Then what are you saying?” she demands.
I lean down slightly, my voice rough and low.
“I’m saying you’re mine.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
And the second they’re out there, something in the air between us shifts.
Rae’s breath catches.
But instead of softening, her eyes harden.
“See?” she says quietly.
“See what?”
“That right there.”
Her hand gestures between us.
“That possessive caveman thing you do.”
My jaw tightens.
“You’re twisting my words.”
“No,” Rae says, shaking her head slowly. “I’m hearing them exactly how you meant them.”
We’re both breathing harder now, standing too close, the quiet morning around us completely forgotten.
The porch suddenly feels too small.
“I’m not something you claim, Cole,” she continues, her voice quieter but sharper somehow. “I’m not one of your motorcycles or a piece of territory you plant a flag in.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
I stare at her.
Because the truth is sitting in my chest like a loaded weapon and I’m not used to saying things like that out loud.
What I meant is simple.
No one gets to hurt her.
No one gets to touch her the way Voss did.
No one gets to take her away from me now that I know what it feels like to have her here.
But the words get tangled somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
And Rae takes my silence as the answer. She nods slowly, like something inside her just settled. “Yeah,” she says quietly. Then she picks up her coffee and steps past me, heading back toward the door. “Just like I thought.”