Chapter 28 #3
A ghost of who I used to be.
“This,” she settled on trying to explain, her voice rough. “And he’s—”
Rowan.
Steady as the earth.
Strong enough to carry me out of hell and not once let me go.
“He deserves better.”
Her mom’s expression darkened, her brows drawing together. “Enya Moore, don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”
Enya flinched like she’d been slapped.
Birdie-June’s voice dropped, low and fierce. “You hear me?” Her eyes were wet, her grip on Enya’s arm tight. “You fought, you survived, and if that man’s half as smart as his mother says he is, he knows exactly what he’s got in you.”
Enya’s vision blurred. She turned back to the cutting board, blinking fast, her fingers curling into fists. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Birdie-June said gently, her hand rubbing slow circles on Enya’s back. “But it’s a start.”
If the ground could do her a solid and open itself up so she could drop right into it and hide, she’d be thrilled…. So thrilled right now.
“Okay, okay.” Her momma clearly saw she was uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had gone and gave her a reprieve. “Come on, let’s get dinner on the table. Daddy and Gael will be up from the barn in a few minutes.”
Thank you, sweet baby, Jesus. I’ll buy you a new bicycle next week. Promise.
Dinner was loud, fun, and filled with laughter.
Gael and Camden argued good-naturedly about bloodlines—Camden insisting his old cutting horse, Doc, could still outwork any of Stronghold’s stock despite his age, Gael countering with facts about the new baby colt’s sire, his voice dry but his eyes alight with something that almost looked like amusement.
Enya’s dad had always been like that—stubborn as an oak, proud as a peacock, impossible to shut up when it came to horses.
Seeing him like this—relaxed, his laughter deep and unrestrained—made something in Enya’s chest loosen, and she had to work harder than she’d like to keep her tears at bay.
Birdie-June nudged her gently with her elbow. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Enya nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just… full.”
Her mom’s eyes softened. She knew. Of course, she knew.
The conversation lulled as plates were cleared, the clink of silverware against ceramic giving way to the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the creak of the old house settling around them. Camden leaned back in his chair, his gaze landing on Enya with a weight that made her spine stiffen.
“So,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “You ready to come home yet?”
The question hung there, heavy as a stone, and Enya’s pulse spiked, her fingers digging into the wood of the table. She opened her mouth—
“She’s staying here for as long as she wants—”
Enya’s head whipped around so fast her body followed with it, and she almost fell off the chair. “Rowe, you’re home.”
Camden’s brows lowered, his jaw tightening. “Excuse me?”
Enya ignored her dad and jumped to her feet. She shot across the kitchen. “When—are you—is everything—how—”
“Easy, darlin’, take a breath.” Rowan shot a look over her shoulder toward the table, then pressed a fast kiss to her lips. “We’re all good. The boys will be up in a bit.”
Camden’s jaw worked, his fingers tightening around his fork. “That’s my daughter, Salieri…”
“Daddy—”
“Camden—”
Enya and her momma both spoke at once, and both were cut off when Rowan winked at her where her daddy couldn’t see.
“What matters,” Rowan said, his voice never rising or wavering, “is that she’s happy. Safe and happy.” He kept his gaze on her as if he wanted her to read between the lines. “What she needs and wants is my top priority. Period.”
What does he mean by that?
The table went dead quiet. Enya’s gaze bounced from Rowan to her daddy, to her momma, and back to Rowan.
Her mom reached over, her fingers squeezing Camden’s hand under the table. “Rowan’s right. Our girl safe and happy trumps everything else.”
Camden’s head snapped toward Birdie-June. “You, too?”
Birdie-June’s voice was soft, but firm. “She’s getting stronger here. I see it.” She looked at Enya, her eyes shining. “She also looks at Rowan like I still look at you.” She pinned Camden with a glare. “And if you look at him, he looks at her like you look at me.”
Camden exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, his callouses catching on the stubble along his jaw. “Christ.” He looked at Rowan, then at Enya, and something in his expression cracked, just a little. The fight drained out of him, leaving something raw in its place. “This wasn’t in the plan.”
Enya glanced at Rowan, who nodded, and the corner of his lip curved up. She swallowed hard. “The—um—plan changed a little when I wasn’t looking. I’m not mad about it.”
“Thank fuck.”
Her dad clearly didn’t hear Rowan’s whisper because he nodded as if he was agreeing with himself. He looked from Rowan to Gael and back again, then gestured to her momma. “What about us?”
Rowan didn’t hesitate. “Door’s always open. You want to visit, you visit. You want to help with the horses, you help. You want to sit on the porch and drink bourbon and bitch about the government, we’ve got a rocking chair with your name on it.”
There was a beat of silence, then Camden huffed a laugh, “Goddamn.” He narrowed his gaze at his wife. “Did you know about this before we came here today?”
“No.” Birdie-June smiled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But like our daughter, I’m also not mad about it.”
“Guess we’re adopting a mercenary ranch, then.” Camden shook his head. “There better be pie or something, because a man needs something sweet as sugar when you hit him with a shock like his baby girl moving in with a man without so much as a by your leave.”
“Welcome to the family.” Rowan’s lips quirked. “And yes, there’s pie. I picked it up in town.”
Enya’s chest ached with the hope that swamped through her.
It was fragile, new, and kinda trembly, like the colt’s first steps.
But it was there, it was real, and when Rowan tugged her into the hall out of sight of her parents, she allowed herself the bliss of losing herself in a deep, wet, curl-your-toes-hot kiss from the cowboy soldier who was coming to mean so much to her heart.