Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
I couldn’t feel my fingers. The wind cut down off the ridge like a blade, sharp and frigid, turning my breath into clouds and numbing the skin around my eyes.
Late September in Montana was always unpredictable—cold enough in the morning that the frost lingered on the pasture until the sun finally cleared the trees, but eighty degrees by mid-afternoon, and then freezing again at night.
“Goddamn,” Gage muttered beside me, blowing into his hands as we crested the rise on horseback. “You’d think the calendar skipped straight to November.”
“It’s just the elevation,” I said, patting Bandit’s neck. “Once we get down past the ridge, we’ll warm up.”
“Or I’ll lose my dick to frostbite before then,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile behind it.
We were out near the boundary of our land, checking fence lines and moving a few scattered heads toward their winter pasture.
A couple of ranch hands were behind us, driving the cattle steadily down the slope.
It was quiet out here—just the sound of our horse’s hoofbeats, the occasional call out between the crew, and the mournful sounding lowing of cattle.
Gage reined his horse in beside mine and gave me a long look, brows raised like he was waiting for something. “You’ve been real quiet this morning.”
I adjusted my grip on the reins, shifting slightly in the saddle to ease the ache settling into my thighs.
I gave him a noncommittal hmph in reply, mostly because I didn’t know how to put into words the shit storm swirling around in my head—Eden, the barn …
what we did in the barn and the way she’d breathed out my name like it was the answer to a prayer she didn’t know she’d made.
“Yeah,” I said finally when he just kept staring at the side of my head. “Just working through some things.”
“Shit. That’s never good.”
I snorted, casting him a sideways glance. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
He chuckled under his breath and adjusted his grip on the reins, his gaze sweeping across the wide stretch of land ahead of us.
We were following an old cattle trail up toward the tree line, where the terrain turned rougher.
The wind had knocked over a few fence posts, and one of the gates was hanging off its hinges.
“You know,” he said after a moment. “When I said yes to getting up at the crack of dawn, I didn’t realize I’d be babysitting you through a midlife crisis.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, but my lips twitched as I fought a grin.
“C’mon, man. You’ve had that panicked look on your face since dinner last night. You gonna tell me what happened with Eden yesterday, or do I need to make something up?”
“I don’t even know what happened,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “One minute we were talking, sort of catching up on the last ten years of our lives, and the next—” I cut myself off, groaning softly as the memory hit me full force.
The way her back arched when I slid inside her, the little gasp she made when I sucked that bruise into her skin, her pussy fluttering over my cock while my fingers dug into her hips. The look on her face afterwards, like she couldn’t quite believe what we’d done.
A gust of wind hit me full in the face, sharp enough to make my eyes water, but it didn't chase away the heat crawling up my neck at the memory. I had to shift in my saddle to ease the sudden tightness in my jeans.
“Let me guess,” he said with a knowing smirk. “Eden showed up lookin’ real cute and all those old feelings came rushing back. Next thing you know, she’s moaning your name while you’re balls deep inside her.”
“Gage.” I gave him a long warning look, one brow ticking up as I turned toward him in my saddle. It was the kind of look that said, “Keep talking about her like that and you’ll be on your ass in the dirt.”
“Okay, I get it.” He raised a hand in mock surrender, but chuckled under his breath. “Still, that didn’t take long.”
I shook my head, exhaling a long breath. “You’re a child. No, worse.”
He grinned. “Maybe. But I’m also not wrong, am I?”
The crunch of hooves on frozen earth and the distant creak of a hawk overhead filled the quiet space between us. The wind picked up again, cutting through my jacket. Even the weather seemed determined to strip me bare today, leave me with nothing to hide behind.
Gage fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, then glanced sideways again. “Look,” he said more seriously now. “I’m not judging. You’ve been hung up on that woman for ten long years. No one’s surprised you took one look at her and fell right back into her orbit.”
I frowned, but didn’t otherwise respond. What could I say in my defense? That was exactly what’d happened.
We continued riding until Tommy, one of the ranch hands, gave a sharp whistle, the sound cutting through the wind, and gestured toward a break in the fence line.
“What does Eden think about all this?” Gage asked as we kicked our horses into a trot and made our way to Tommy.
“All this?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
He glanced over at me, an eyebrow cocked and his lips twisted to the side. It was a look that said, “Don’t play dumb.”
“Couldn’t really say,” I told him. “Haven’t talked to her since she left.”
Gage turned to look at me fully, his brows raised. “You didn’t call?”
“Didn’t get the chance. We’ve been out here since sun up, and I haven’t had signal all day.”
My brother snorted, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re telling me the man who keeps a satellite radio in his truck and backup batteries in his glove box can’t figure out how to send a fucking text to the woman he just had sex with?”
I let out a tired breath, shaking my head. “I was gonna call her when we got back.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked away again, clearly not buying it.
“I was,” I said, more firmly this time. “I just … needed to think. Figure out what the hell I’m doing.”
My brother’s expression softened, just a little. “You’re doing what you always do when it comes to Eden James: tying yourself up in knots.” He paused. “Did you ever even try to move on … after she left?”
His question hit harder than I wanted to admit.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t; it was that I couldn’t .
When Jenna found out she was pregnant, I’d tried like hell to bury my memories of Eden six feet deep.
I told myself I needed to love Jenna the way she deserved—completely and without reservation.
But Eden lived in the spaces between my ribs, in the catch of my breath when I spied auburn hair moving through a crowd.
Even when I held Cole for the first time, part of me wondered what Eden and my children might have looked like.
In the end, I had to come clean with Jenna: we couldn’t be together.
I stared out toward the horizon, where the sky met snow-tipped peaks in the distance. Snow this early on the Gallatin Range meant it was going to be a long winter.
“She broke your heart,” Gage added, his voice turning quieter. “We all know that. But we also know you’d get down on your knees and beg her to love you if you thought there was still a chance.”
I looked over at him again, but this time, there was no glare in my expression. Just a worn-out kind of truth sitting heavy in my chest.
“Just … don’t lie to yourself about what this is,” he said. “Not again.”
By the time we got the horses put up, purple dusk had settled over the ranch, and the cold had returned with a vengeance. I limped into the warm kitchen, my body protesting every step, and was wrestling with a stubborn boot when Nash’s voice drifted from the den.
“Hey, Jake? You got a minute?”
I exhaled through my nose and stepped into the doorway. “Make it quick.”
He glanced up from a laptop, his brow furrowed as his eyes flicked to the screen and then returned to me. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up—one of the local suppliers is raising prices on grain again. Not urgent, but we might want to revisit the numbers.”
“Noted.” I rubbed the back of my neck, every muscle in my shoulders screaming for that shower. And for the conversation I’d been putting off all day. “We’ll look at it tomorrow.”
He nodded and turned back to the screen.
I pivoted down the hall, already fantasizing about a long, hot shower and an ice-cold beer. Maybe both at the same time. But I didn’t make it far.
Colt stepped out of his room, the door clicking shut behind him. He was looking down at his phone, his thumb dragging intently across the screen, but he stilled when he spotted me.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and a little guilty. He kept his eyes down, one hand scrubbing at his jaw.
I narrowed my eyes. “Everything okay?”
He nodded, then scratched at the stubble lining his jaw, an old tell that said it wasn’t, not really. “Yeah. I, uh … when I picked Cole up from school today, I ran into Eden.”
My stomach tensed, a tight pull behind my ribs. The way he said it—quiet, cautious—made the back of my neck prickle with warning. I crossed my arms. “Oh yeah?”
He shifted his weight, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t plan to talk to her. It just sort of happened.”
“Hmm,” I hummed. “What’d you say?”
Colt let out a long breath and finally looked at me. “I’m not sure you want to know.”
I dragged a hand down over my face, pulling at the skin. “How bad is it?”
“I kind of told her to stay away from you,” he admitted, his voice tight. “Said if she wasn’t all in, she needed to keep her distance.”
“Jesus, Colt.”
“I know, all right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to overstep. I just—” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I just … I saw her standing there, after all this time, and I—fuck, Jake, I panicked. Okay?”
I stared at him for a beat, my jaw clenched tight against the words I wanted to say. To shout.
He shifted again under the weight of it, then finally met my gaze. His eyes were sincere, but wary. It was the wariness that got to me. It was a look I was seeing on my brother’s face more and more lately, and I didn’t like it.
“Yeah,” I said at last, my voice rough. “The first time I saw her, I panicked, too. Thanks for telling me.”
He blinked. “You’re not pissed?”
“Oh, I’m pissed,” I said, a bitter smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. “But I get it. You were just looking out for me. For Cole, too.”
Colt nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Yeah, but I think some of it was my own shit, too.”
I cocked a brow. “With Eden?” I knew he’d been angry when she left town, but maybe I hadn’t understood just how deep his hurt ran.
He shook his head. “Nah. Well, maybe a bit, but mostly not. I’ve got some of my own shit I’m trying to work through.”
I stepped closer and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t we all?”
He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Guess so.”
I let him go and headed for my room, peeling off my shirt on the way.
In the bathroom, the shower steamed up fast, hot water pounding against my sore muscles, but it didn’t chase the tension from my shoulders.
Eden filled my thoughts—her flushed skin, the way her fingers had curled in my shirt, the look in her eyes when we’d parted ways.
I’d meant to call her last night to check in, but I’d stared at her name on my screen so long the words dried up in my throat.
Then Gage and I had ridden out at dawn, the farther we rode, the worse the signal got, and by the time we made it out past the fence line, my phone may as well have been a brick in my pocket.
It wasn’t a good excuse, but it was the truth.
I dried off, tugged on a clean shirt, and stood there staring at my phone like it might bite me. Just call her, you coward. My thumb hovered over her name when the screen lit up with an incoming call. Eden.
I stared at the screen for half a second before swiping to answer.
“Eden?”
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Hey,” she said softly. “We need to talk.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. I closed my eyes for a second, relief and dread tangling in my chest. “I know. I was gonna call, but I’ve been out riding all day. No cell service past the hilltop.”
There was a pause on the other end. “You were gone all day?”
“Since sunrise,” I said. “Just got back about an hour ago. Got pulled into a conversation with Nash, then had a run-in with Colt.”
Another beat of silence.
“So you weren’t ignoring me?”
“No,” I said quietly. “But I did do a hell of a lot of thinking today, and you’re right. We need to talk.”
“I’d rather not have this conversation over the phone,” she said. “Do you mind if I come over?”
I hesitated, running a hand through my damp hair. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice even as it shook slightly. “But I’ve been thinking all day, too, and if we don’t do this now, I’m going to lose my nerve.”
The honesty in her voice made my chest tight. I thought I knew what conclusions I’d come to out there on that ridge, but knowing she’d been wrestling with this too suddenly made me question everything I thought I’d decided.
My grip on my phone tightened. “All right. I’ll leave the porch light on.”
“I’m already in my car,” she said quietly. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours and twenty seconds all at once.
I stood on the porch, hands braced against the railing, watching my breath cloud in the frigid air.
The night was dead quiet except for the wind in the trees, and then—there.
A gentle rumble grew steadily closer until twin beams swept around the bend, cutting through the dark like searchlights hunting for something lost.