Chapter 22
Jada
The front door of the Resting Warrior Ranch lodge loomed in front of me, warm light spilling from the windows, the sound of laughter and conversation slipping through the thick wood. It was supposed to be inviting. It only made my stomach clench tighter.
I needed an excuse. Any excuse.
“We could say I’m sick,” I murmured. “Or that you have a headache. Something contagious. No one wants the flu at a family dinner.”
Hunter, standing beside me, shifted his weight, his solid presence a frustrating mix of immovable and comforting. “Jada.” His voice was quiet but firm. “You’re not sick. Neither am I.”
He wasn’t getting it. I turned to face him, keeping my voice low, even though no one inside could hear us. “That’s not the point. I’m looking for an excuse to get us out of here.”
“Look, I’ve been to these dinners before, and they’re fun. Very low-key. Not formal at all.”
He thought I was concerned that I wouldn’t know what fork to use for a salad?
I curled my fingers into my jacket. “And when you went to these dinners before, had you ever kidnapped anyone at the table?”
His jaw twitched, but his green eyes stayed steady. “No.”
“Had you ever stalked one of the guests? Threatened them? Tried to force them to leave their entire life behind?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “No.”
I exhaled sharply. “Then maybe you see why it’s different for me.”
I wanted him to argue. Wanted him to tell me I was wrong. Instead, he did something worse. He reached out, slid his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me against him.
It wasn’t forceful. If I wanted to step away, I could. But I didn’t.
His body was warm, solid in a way that made me feel real, and for a second, I let myself lean into him, let myself pretend that being here wasn’t a terrible mistake.
“These people are good, Jada.” His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “They’re not waiting to ambush you. They’re not looking for revenge. And after the last couple of days…” He let out a breath, his fingers flexing slightly on my shoulder. “We could both use a little downtime.”
I wanted to believe him. But I knew better than to trust what I wanted.
I’d been thinking about that vial nonstop since Dr. Beckett had pressed it into my hand. Wondering if taking it was what I deserved.
The door swung open before I could sink any further.
Emma Clark stood there, apron dusted with flour, dark eyes warm and welcoming. “Saw you two out here.” She smiled. “Come on in. Everybody just sat down at the table.”
My stomach twisted.
“Sorry, we’re a few minutes late.” Hunter gave my shoulder one last squeeze before dropping his arm. “Told you,” he murmured to me, then stepped inside like this was the easiest thing in the world.
I forced my feet forward, past Emma, into the lodge and a room full of people who had every reason to hate me.
The warmth hit me first. Not just from the large wood-burning fireplace in the corner or the smell of home-cooked food thick in the air, but from the people. Laughter, conversation, the low hum of familiarity and easy companionship wrapped around the room like a blanket.
And then, the second I stepped inside, silence crashed down like a hammer.
It was instant. A full stop. Small children chattering cut off as if they even sensed the change in atmosphere. Everyone—every single person in the room—turned to look at me.
My heart slammed into my ribs. This was it.
Maybe I’d been stupid for walking in here. Maybe this was the moment I would finally be called out, dragged into the open for everything I’d done—even if I didn’t remember doing it. Maybe I should turn around and leave before someone decided to throw me out.
The wooden floor creaked, and my breath locked in my throat. Kenzie was crossing the room. I braced. Waited for the impact. Maybe this had all been a setup. I couldn’t blame her if it was.
But she stopped a few feet away. Her dark eyes met mine, and I couldn’t breathe.
Then she said, “Glad you guys could make it.”
That was it. No accusation. No cold shoulder. No fury, no indictment. Just acceptance. The note she’d left on the cabin door hadn’t been a trap; it had been legitimate.
There was a beat of silence. Then someone cleared their throat, a chair scraped against the floor, a little girl squealed, and the tension snapped like a rubber band. The easy murmur of conversation picked up again, as if nothing had happened.
Emma saved me from the awkwardness of standing there like a statue.
“Jada, Kenzie, can you two help us bring in the food from the kitchen?” Her smile was effortless, as if I were just anyone else—as if this were normal. And maybe it was. The guys were calling Hunter over to talk with them.
I followed Emma and Kenzie into the kitchen, where the rest of the women were gathered. The counters were covered in serving dishes, steam rising from slow cookers and foil-covered pans. The smell of roasted meat and spices wrapped around me, comforting in a way I didn’t deserve.
A tray of cornbread. A slow cooker full of chili. A massive dish of baked mac and cheese. Bowls of salads, roasted vegetables, pies waiting on the far counter for dessert. An entire spread that had been carefully planned, prepared, and contributed to.
By everyone except by me and Hunter.
I froze near the doorway. A sharp wave of discomfort rolling through me. I should have thought to bring something. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts about the antidote, it hadn’t even occurred to me.
Selfish. Again. Maybe it really was something in my DNA.
Mara and Grace shot me a concerned look before carrying food out to the table. Kenzie must have noticed the shift in my expression, because she stopped gathering plates and turned to me. “Hey. You okay?”
“I—I didn’t know this was a…bring-something kind of thing.” I gestured vaguely to the counter, my face burning. “I should have?—”
Emma, stacking silverware by the plates, waved me off immediately. “First-timers don’t have to bring anything.”
“Ever,” Kenzie added, matter-of-fact. “It’s the rule.”
I looked between them. No pity. No judgment. Just…inclusion.
Emma smiled, counting out salad bowls for the table. “The family dinners started small. Actually, the guys started communal dinners with the residents when they were all still single. Just as a way to be available and check in with all of them. Then as each guy found his woman and the group began to grow, they started moving between different houses. Liam and Mara actually suggested it. And with adding children in the mix now, the gatherings have become too big, so we brought them back here to the lodge.”
Kenzie leaned a hip against the counter, studying me with something closer to understanding than anything else. “Last month was my first family dinner, too.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Jensen brought me. I didn’t know anyone. It was a lot.” Her lips tilted slightly. “It’s still a lot. But at the end of the day, it’s just a meal and conversation. You don’t have to prove anything.”
Emma loaded me up with plates and silverware, and I carried them back to the main dining room. The other women followed me with some of the food, and soon, everyone had grabbed something and brought it in to the table, and dinner began.
Chairs scraping, silverware clinking, voices overlapping—laughter weaving through the chaos like it belonged there. The space was packed—former SEALs, their wives or girlfriends, their kids, everyone shoulder to shoulder, passing dishes, teasing, catching up like this was something they’d always done.
I’d never seen anything like this before. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my memory loss or some bone-deep understanding that this sort of thing had never been part of my life. Hunter had told me the little my brother Caleb had said to him about my life growing up—that it had been bad, my mom at least somewhat abusive.
So it wasn’t a far stretch to assume I hadn’t had many family dinners full of laughter and love.
Kenzie sat across from me, easily folding into the flow of conversation. Jensen was next to her, throwing an arm over the back of her chair as she leaned in, laughing at something Lucas had said. Like it was easy. Like being part of this wasn’t complicated or overwhelming. But still, I felt like I was on the outside of a glass wall, looking in.
And then a tiny, chubby hand smacked me in the face.
I blinked, startled, and realized Daniel Clark had set a squirming toddler in my lap.
“Just for a sec,” Daniel said easily, already reaching for his knife and fork to cut his meat. “This is Tyson.”
I sat there, frozen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to drop the little boy Daniel had just handed me like I was capable of being trusted with him.
Tyson, completely unbothered, gurgled happily, tiny fingers grabbing for my hair, his face bright and open. Like he knew me. Like I was supposed to be here.
My heart lodged itself somewhere in my throat.
I should have handed him back. I should have done anything but sit there like an idiot while he clung to me like I was safe. But…I liked it.
So, instead of letting him go, I looked over at Daniel and asked, “Mind if I keep him for a little longer?”
Daniel grinned, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Be my guest. Getting to eat with two hands is an unusual treat these days.”
And when I glanced up, Hunter was watching me, lips tilted in a rare, soft smile.
Dinner continued on around me, and I felt more and more comfortable. Talk floated from topic to topic freely.
“So,” Lucas said, leaning back in his chair, beer bottle in hand. His piercing gaze locked on Hunter like a man who had an agenda and zero shame about it. “You given any more thought to staying? Running Warrior Security?”
Hunter, who had just taken a drink of water, paused mid-sip. His eyes narrowed slightly, but Lucas just waited, calm and expectant.
At the far end of the table, Evelyn snorted, shaking her head at her husband while holding a baby boy in her arms. “Subtle, babe.”
“Not his strong suit,” Liam agreed, shooting Lucas an amused look before turning his attention to Hunter. “But it’s a good idea. You’d be perfect for it.”
Daniel let out a low chuckle. “And let’s be real, man—if someone like you takes the lead, that means the rest of us know it will be handled. We won’t need to get so involved. We can keep our attention here at the lodge and spend more time at home.” He shot Emma a sideways glance, something private passing between them.
“Exactly,” Lucas added. “I love what we built here, and I think Warrior Security will be a great addition to it, but I don’t want to be going out on missions all the time. Evie would kill me.”
“I absolutely would,” Evelyn confirmed with a soft smile.
The table erupted in laughter, but I kept my focus on Hunter. Because for the first time, I was seeing something I hadn’t before. These men didn’t just respect him—they trusted him. I wasn’t sure if Hunter even realized it, but it was clear to everyone else.
His mouth twisted slightly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Finally, he exhaled and said, “I’m thinking about it.”
That was as close to a yes as he was probably going to give. Lucas didn’t push, but there was a satisfaction in his expression, like he knew he’d already won.
Tyson started fidgeting, so Emma came to collect him. She gave me a kind smile, and they disappeared into another room. I shifted in my chair, watching as the conversation rolled on—about logistics, about what this tactical unit would look like, about how Hunter would fit.
And the more they talked, the more it made sense. Hunter belonged here.
These people got him. They understood what he’d been through, what he still struggled with. Even Dr. Rayne, the ranch psychologist, was here, curled up against her fiancé Cole, laughing at something Harlan had said.
If Hunter ever wanted therapy, he would have access to someone who already cared, although I wasn’t sure if he’d ever go for that kind of thing. Talking wasn’t exactly his style.
Honestly, I could almost see him finding more peace in the therapy animals over at Pawsitive, given how he’d worked with them. But either way, he had people here. People who cared.
It made me realize how much I didn’t.
Not here. Obviously, everyone had put aside their right to be offended by me and accepted me into their presence. But outside of this room of people who had every right to hate me, who did I have?
No one had filed a missing person report when I disappeared. If they had, Jace would have found it.
He said I had no family, aside from my brother in prison. Obviously, no friends, since no one was looking for me. If Hunter hadn’t found me in that cabin, and I’d wandered out into the woods and died on my own, I wasn’t sure anyone in the world would’ve really cared.
Suddenly, the noise of the room turned suffocating. The easy laughter, the talking all over one another, the casual touches—everything tightened around me until I couldn’t breathe.
The scrape of chairs pulled me back. The men were standing, gathering plates, carrying them to the kitchen as the women shifted toward the living room. Evelyn with a little girl at her side and a baby boy in her arms. Someone mentioned dessert. Someone else laughed. Kenzie caught my eye and motioned for me to follow. I nodded.
But then, when no one was looking, I took a detour down the hallway and slipped out the back door. The cold Montana air hit me like a slap, but I welcomed it. I took another step, pulled in another breath. Then another.
Maybe I should keep walking. Maybe I should leave altogether. Maybe I should leave those people inside to their gentle happiness and almost tangible love.
Because I didn’t deserve it.