Chapter Thirty Eight
Giddy fuckin’ up, Cooper Cunts
I practically fall from the truck, slamming the door behind me and stumbling toward the farmhouse. My legs are shaking, lungs tight and brittle, and it feels like every nerve in my body is short-circuiting with panic. Bea’s outside with the twins, her arms wrapped around Aurora like a shield.
Colby is sobbing, shoulders hunched, her dark brown curls bouncing as she paces in tiny, frantic circles. Clementine stands beside her mom, pale and wide-eyed behind thick glasses, her hoodie pulled up tight like it might protect her from the sight of fire licking the sky.
But Bea… Bea is still. Too still. Stoic, almost.
Her arms are soft as she bounces Aurora gently, whispering something too low for me to hear, but her eyes are locked on the flames, a storm of worry behind them that she clearly doesn’t want her daughters to see.
I see it, though.
I feel it.
Don’t even realize I’m running until Colby throws herself into my arms with a wild sob. “It’s bad, Georgia,” she cries, fists clinging to my jacket. “The barn—there was so much smoke. I thought it was the house. I thought—I thought—”
“I know,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her and pulling Clem in too, surprised by the fierceness of my protectiveness for these sweet girls. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
Clementine presses her face into my side, whispering, “Kade’ll fix it. He always does.”
And that’s like a sucker punch to my damn gut.
But I nod, because how can I not? “He fixes everything for me too. He’s a really good fixer.”
Bea lets out a breath of relief and crosses the short distance to us, giving me a one-armed hug that speaks volumes. It’s tight and full of unspoken things she probably won’t let out in front of the girls.
“Glad you made it home okay,” she says, kissing my cheek. “Hope you had a wonderful date, before… all this.”
“I’m so sorry, Bea,” I choke out, hugging her back just as tightly, careful not to hurt Aurora. “Kade said the equipment barn is completely gone. I can’t even imagine.”
She pulls back, eyes flicking to her daughters. A forced smile curves her lips like muscle memory. “It’s not the first fire we’ve had here, and it won’t be the last.”
Before I can reply, she passes me Aurora, her expression gentling. “Missed her, no doubt.”
“Hard not to,” I admit, scooping her up without hesitation, cuddling her close to my chest.
Aurora blinks up at me with those huge brown eyes and lets out a quiet sniffle before digging her fingers into my hair. My throat constricts, emotions overwhelming me.
“Kade is coming,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her curls. “Our guy will be back soon.”
And like she was waiting for me to say just that, her eyes flutter closed and she nuzzles into my neck, breath warming my skin.
Something inside me settles, then shifts.
I did miss her. More than I probably should. More than is probably safe.
But it’s too late for my heart where this family is concerned.
Just then, a pair of trucks come into view.
The first is large and red, with bold white letters reading Summit County Rural Fire Protection , followed closely by a second, even larger truck bearing the same markings.
A minute later, a black SUV rolls in behind them, headlights slicing through the early morning dark.
Wildwood Sheriff’s Department is stenciled along the side.
I blink. “Why is the sheriff’s department from a town over here? Wouldn’t Heart Springs send someone?”
Bea shakes her head, tucking the girls against her sides. “That’ll be Memphis Calloway. He’s the sheriff in Wildwood, but he and his brothers are all volunteer firefighters with the rural district.”
“Like Kade,” I murmur, turning back to watch the trucks curve around the drive like they know exactly where they’re headed.
As I drove here, I passed a steady stream of trucks and headlights headed toward the fire. Some faces I recognized from mudding and around the farm, others I didn’t. But every one of them jumped in without hesitation, throwing themselves into the fray.
The five of us stand there, watching from a safe distance. The fire’s still burning, but it’s not raging anymore. The chaos has begun to ebb, but my heart hasn’t caught up.
Eventually, Bea breaks the silence. “Looks like they’ve got it under control. No point standing around here doing nothing. Let’s do what Archers do best and take care of the people around us.”
“I don’t wanna,” Colby whines, shivering. “Can’t Archers have a better hobby? Napping, perhaps?”
Clementine bobs her head, tugging her hoodie higher. “Or eating. I love food.”
“Same,” her sister says. “Can we have breakfast?”
Bea clicks her tongue. “Lucky for you, breakfast for the crew is exactly what I was suggesting, you rotten little toads.”
“Thank fuck,” Colby mutters, peeling away from us. “I’m freezing and starving.”
“Colby Mildred!” Bea hisses, eyebrows shooting up as she sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”
She shoots me a tired smile. “Only seventeen, but they’ve got mouths like they’re twenty-five.”
Clementine giggles and presses a kiss to her mom’s cheek. “At least we’re still virgins, Ma.”
With that, she chases after Colby, cackling at Bea’s groan.
I laugh, the sound shaky in my throat, but it quickly fades. I hesitate, torn—unsure if I’m meant to follow them into the house or maybe head back to Kade’s.
Before I can decide, Bea tucks her arm around me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Soon-to-be Archers are included in that, dear,” she says with a wink that knocks the wind out of me.
I stumble, heart in my throat.
Bea chuckles, ignoring my panic, brushing her hand over Aurora’s hair as she guides us toward the Big House. “And tiny, new little Archers, too.”
My throat is so tight, I can barely swallow around it, but I let Bea lead us up the wide porch steps and through the front door of the house Kade grew up in.
The moment I cross the threshold, I feel it—love, history, home.
Their house is old but well cared for, the kind of place that wears time like a badge of honor instead of trying to erase it.
The floors creak, the floral wallpapered walls are lined with photos in mismatched frames, and there are scuff marks in the hallway that probably have stories attached to every single one.
There’s a sitting room off to the left and a long hallway straight ahead that opens into a big, warm kitchen. Two wings branch off the main living space, and a staircase curves up from the middle of the foyer like an old spine.
“How big is this house?” I ask, hugging Aurora a little tighter against my chest when she whimpers in her sleep.
Bea chuckles softly and shrugs. “Ten bedrooms.”
At my gasp, she winks and pats my back.
“Get your head out of the gutter, sweetheart. I’ve always loved to entertain.” Her smile falls and she looks away. “Not that we have a use for most of them now.”
I barely have time to process her words before my mind flashes to Kade—to that morning we walked around his nearly finished house and he told me his plans to fill every room.
His filthy, dirty, breeding-kink plans that sent shivers down my spine.
Then to tonight—his mouth pressed to my ear, his voice low and rough as he shoved his cum back into me and whispered promises about practice , about filling me up again and again , like we’ve been together for years.
Not months. Not weeks. Not a single weekend that cracked open my chest and shoved everything familiar aside.
The problem is, I liked it. Probably too much. I love kids, always have. Always wanted a whole house full of them, but after a while, I just figured it wouldn't happen for me. That I’m too broken—too scared to reach out and take what I want for fear of eventually losing it.
But Kade…
Kade is feral about making babies, and it’s fucking with my phobias.
I shake the thought off before I combust, dragging myself back to the present as Bea pushes open a swinging door into the kitchen.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, and I mean it.
The space is soft and golden, full of warmth and the scent of cinnamon and smoke—the latter from an open window Clem quickly closes.
Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, and the farmhouse table in the center looks big enough to seat a small army.
Cabinets are painted a muted sage green, and the counters are cluttered with both cooking essentials and well-loved extras—a stand mixer, three coffee pots, and a stack of well-used baking sheets leaning against the backsplash.
“Holy shit, this is huge,” I choke out.
Colby snorts. “That’s what she said.”
Clementine offers her a fist bump as she crosses to the fridge and starts pulling out eggs, butter, and what looks like enough supplies to feed a battalion.
“How many guys do you think are out there, Mom?” she asks, rolling up her sleeves.
Bea glances toward a large wall of windows over the sink, her brows pulling together. “Maybe thirty? If all the hands are back, and Dallas’s crew showed up.”
Clem nods, completely unfazed, and starts washing her hands. I can only gape, watching her move through the kitchen like she’s done this a thousand times.
Colby elbows me and grins. “She wants to be a chef. Practically lives for this shit.” Her expression softens as she watches her twin crack eggs into a giant bowl. “This is basically her Kentucky Derby.”
I smile, tightening my arms around Aurora as her breath puffs soft and warm against my collarbone.
I don’t want to put her down—not yet. Maybe never.
Swallowing hard, I bury the fear that rises along with the love in my chest.
“If she fusses,” Bea says gently, nodding toward the living room, “the bag Kade packed is by the portable crib near the couch. Should have everything she needs.”
I nod, glancing down at Aurora’s peaceful face.