Chapter Forty Six
Cowgirl in Crisis
I don’t remember turning off the ignition. Don’t remember kicking off my heels or unlocking the front door. But I must’ve done all three, because I’m inside now, still fully dressed, work bag clutched to my chest like it’ll help me breathe.
Kade’s house smells like home and the reality of that’s like a sucker punch to my already aching chest.
Ignoring the pain, I walk straight into the living room and collapse onto the comfy couch I’ve spent weeks—longer, even, cuddling on with the two people who feel a hell of a lot like my family.
My bag clatters to the floor along with my sanity. Holding my breath, I listen to the sounds of the house, waiting for Aurora’s adorable squeals or heartbreaking cries. I wait for Kade’s heavy steps or his rough voice calling out to see if I’m home.
When nothing but silence greets me, I crumble. The tears start before I even register the sob that rips out of me. I clutch one of the throw pillows to my chest, the rough linen scraping my cheek, and I finally release the sob that’s been building all day.
My chest heaves. My throat aches. My hands shake so hard I have to dig them into the seams of the pillow just to keep from unraveling further.
It wasn’t supposed to go this way.
I fought.
God, I fought.
Tessa’s case landed on my desk three months ago—a fifteen-year-old with chronic truancy reports and red flags all over her file.
But the first time I met her… when I stood in that filthy living room with its dim lights and fridge humming like a dying animal, I knew the truth didn’t live in the papers.
It lived in her eyes. In the way she stood in front of her much younger siblings, protecting them from a threat like she’d been doing it her whole life.
She wasn’t skipping school to party or get high. She was working .
A baby herself, babysitting and waitressing. Scrubbing houses for neighbors just to keep the power on. Their mom, recently divorced and drowning in bills, was barely holding on. Three jobs, no support or family, an MIA ex.
But she was trying.
That’s why I did all I could to keep them together. They weren’t eating out at fancy restaurants, but they were fed. Weren’t thriving, but not cold or injured or abused.
They were loved, just struggling.
They were getting by together .
And now they’re not.
Today, I went to do a wellness check and the door creaked open like it hadn’t been locked in days. The kids were in the living room, curled up together on the couch, eating crackers straight from a box because it was the only thing left.
The cabinets and fridge were empty. The power was off.
And Tessa… beautiful, brave Tessa, ran into my arms and sobbed against my chest, all her prickly walls and protective instincts drained dry. I did all I could to soothe her, and when she could finally breathe again, she admitted hadn’t seen her mom in almost a week.
I stayed calm and professional and kind the whole way through. I didn't break. Not even when the smallest one, the six-year-old, Morgan, asked me if I knew when Mommy was coming back.
And then I called the cops, because I had to.
By the time the cruiser pulled up, all three kids were crying, clinging to each other like they already knew what was coming. Tessa begged me not to let them go. She held onto her brother and sister so tight I thought her arms might snap.
I told her I was sorry, because what else can you say?
They ignored me, too busy screaming while strapped into an SUV by another social worker. Strapped into a system I know too well. One that chews up kids like them and spits them out in pieces.
Just like me.
When I climbed into my car, it was with my finger hovering over Abby’s number and my car pointed toward home— my home.
I don’t remember driving to Kade’s, or if I ever called my best friend.
I just remember Dean’s tiny voice asking if his mom had sent me to get them. I remember Morgan asking if I brought more groceries. I remember Tessa’s eyes, broken and resigned.
And now…
Now I can’t breathe.
A sob punches its way out of my chest again, sharper this time.
In the distance, a door creaks and then boots are thudding across the wood floor, picking up speed as they near.
“Freckles—hey—hey, baby,” Kade says, crouching down in front of me, voice tight with panic. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick? Talk to me—please, Georgia, what happened?”
I can’t.
I just shake my head, shoulders jerking as I try to swallow the sound that won’t stay down.
His hands hover for a second, then land on my face, warm and steady. One brushes back my hair gently, thumb skimming along my cheek where tears have already soaked in.
He drops to his knees fully, sitting back on his heels, like he’s trying to get smaller for me. Trying to make room for me to fall apart.
“C’mere,” he says softly, and I fold, unable to hold myself up anymore.
I fall forward, into his chest, into his arms, into him , and he catches me like he always does.
His arms wrap tight around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as he pulls me close. He doesn’t rush me for answers, just rocks me gently, grounding me with his body and scent and soft coos to breathe .
“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”
I only sob harder.
He doesn’t flinch. Just keeps holding me. One hand rubs slow circles over my spine. The other threads through my hair, soothing without pressure. I feel him press a kiss to my temple, then one to my forehead, my cheek, my jaw, my tears.
Eventually, my breathing evens out enough to whisper, “Sorry. Really bad day at work.”
“Don’t apologize,” he roughs out. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No,” I choke out. “Really don’t.”
“That’s okay, too.” He leans back to look at me, brows drawn. “What can I do? How can I help?”
I shake my head, chest hollow, vision blurry.
There’s no fixing this. No solution I can come up with. Not just for Tessa and her family, but for this… this… ache inside me. No miracle cure for the pain that comes from knowing I wasn’t enough today. That something was bigger than what I could control with my two hands.
I just stare at him. At his wide shoulders and steady care. At the quiet strength I want to crawl into and live inside. The safety I don’t know what I’d do without.
Somewhere along the way, Kade has become my home. It’s as terrifying as it is real.
“Just…” I swallow, shrugging helplessly. “Help me forget.” Licking my dry lips, I rasp, “ Please .”
His brow furrows. “Baby…”
“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” I whisper, voice raw and desperate. “Please, Kade.”
He hesitates, but he doesn’t leave or judge me. Doesn’t tell me it’s a fucked-up way to cope. And maybe it is. Maybe I should be doing yoga or… I don’t know, praying for healing.
But neither of those things are me, and neither of them will make my brain turn off or my body stop bending under the pressure sinking in around me.
Being with him, though… Losing myself in all that is Kade Archer… Losing myself in his love —love he hasn’t spoken out loud but shows me quietly every day with his mouth and body and unspoken promises…
That heals me.
So I kiss him, laying all the things I can’t say in the space between us.
I slam my lips to his and climb into his lap in the same breath, straddling his thighs and grabbing handfuls of his hair like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered. I feel his hands catch my waist on instinct, steadying me.
“Georgia—” he murmurs against my lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.
“Please,” I beg, pulling back just long enough to breathe the words into his mouth. “I need to feel something else. Anything but this. I need to feel you.”
Need you to love me the only way you can.
He nods against my mouth, breath ragged, then slips one arm under my thighs and the other behind my back, lifting me with ease. I bury my face in his neck as he carries me toward his bedroom, each step silent except for the pounding in my chest.
“Where’s Rory?”
He passes the nursery door, shifting me enough to tug it closed. “Asleep. So you’ll have to be quiet,” he murmurs. “Can you do that? Can you be my good girl and stay quiet?”
I nod fast, heart thudding, throat dry.
He steps into the bedroom and shuts the door with a quiet click before lowering me slowly to the floor, letting my body slide down his. I can feel every muscle, every ridge, every inch of him against me.
His eyes rake over my body as I steady myself, and his throat bobs with a heavy swallow. “God, you’re beautiful, baby.”
My chest rises and falls too fast and I clench my hands in front of me, suddenly nervous under his watchful gaze. “What… what do you want me to do?”
He doesn’t move, just stares for a long time before finally murmuring, “Strip.”
A shiver races down my spine. I swallow hard and slip the blazer off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. My hands tremble as I yank my tank top over my head and reach behind me for the clasp of my bra. It falls next.
I go to kick off my heels.
“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, voice like gravel. “Keep those heels on. I want you just like this. Wrecked. Wild-eyed. Covered in freckles.”
He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, pupils blown.
“ Mine .”
I whimper, knees weak, and slide my wide-legged pants down my hips. My thong follows, pooling at my feet until I’m left in nothing but heels and the racing beat of my heart.
Kade’s jaw flexes. He adjusts himself through the front of his sweats, eyes locked on my body like he’s starving.
“Just missing one thing.”
He turns, crossing to the closet.
I don’t know what I expect, but when he comes back, my breath catches.
He’s holding one of his cowboy hats, a black Stetson saved for fancy occasions. The one he wore the day of the mediation hearing.
God, that feels like forever ago.
My throat works around a painful swallow, but I stay still, letting him lead this. Needing him to lead this.
He steps close, drops the hat gently onto my head, then steps back again, groaning deep in his chest.