Chapter 23 ELLA
ELLA
The morning after Aria’s win feels like waking up in a world dipped in sunlight.
I’m still bustling with excitement, replaying her little gasp when they called her name, still hearing the crowd’s cheer, and feeling Cole’s arms around me after he tucked her in last night. I ride that high into the morning. Even the air smells sweeter today.
The ranch is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like the earth is still sleeping.
I walk out of the main house with a coffee in hand, hair in a loose braid, wearing one of Cole’s hoodies I definitely did not “borrow.” I spot him outside his cabin, leaning against the porch railing like he’s been waiting for the sun to rise.
He sees me, and everything inside him softens. God. That look alone could ruin me.
I approach, already smiling. “Good morning.”
He pushes off the railing and steps toward me in that slow, measured way of his. “Morning, Shiloh.”
I melt a little at the nickname. “Sleep okay?”
He nods. “Better than okay.”
I know exactly why, and warmth blooms in my chest. My win from yesterday wasn’t just seeing Aria ride well. It was watching her father glow like he finally had something worth holding onto.
“And Aria?” I ask.
“Out cold. It was a long but good day.” He dips his head closer. “All thanks to you.”
Heat crawls up my throat. I shrug one shoulder, trying to play it off but failing miserably. “She did all the work.”
“And you made her believe she could,” he counters.
This man makes everything feel possible.
“You heading to the site soon?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation into less tension.
He nods. “I’d like to sleep in, but the crew is rolling in already, and I’ve got to lead by example. We’re starting on the framing today.”
Pride swells in me. “The houses are already looking incredible. I’m glad I fought for you to get this project.”
He smiles, that rare, barely-there curve of his mouth that feels like being chosen. “I’m glad you did too.”
He bends to kiss my forehead, and something warm rolls through my belly. Nothing heavy, just… right.
“I’ll walk with you,” I tell him.
His brow lifts. “You sure?”
“Mm-hm.” I sip my coffee. “I like watching you work.”
He exhales a short laugh through his nose. “You’re trouble.”
“Thank you,” I reply sweetly.
He shakes his head, but his hand brushes my lower back as we walk—subtle but deliberate—and my heart clenches.
The sound of early morning construction is oddly peaceful. Hammers, muttered instructions, gravel shifting under boots. The skeletons of the new ranch houses rise like the beginnings of a story we haven’t finished writing yet.
Cole stops at the edge of the first foundation, hands on his hips, surveying everything like he’s translating a language only he speaks.
He looks good like this. Focused, in control, and in his element.
“You love this,” I say softly beside him. “Don’t you?”
His eyes stay forward. “Yeah. I do.”
“You’re good at it.”
He glances down at me. “You keep saying that.”
“Maybe you should start believing it.”
His eyes soften in that way he tries to hide. That way that makes me stupidly warm inside.
More of the crew starts trickling in, greeting him. He greets them back with nods—quiet leader, steady presence. He moves into work mode, and I step aside to let him handle it.
Time passes in a slow blur. He walks the grid, checks measurements, talks through adjustments with two of his guys. I answer a call, go through emails, and jot notes for payroll. Every so often, he glances over at me like he needs to make sure I’m still here.
I sit on a stack of lumber, pretending to review invoices, but really I’m watching him.
The sweat at the back of his neck, how his shirt clings between his shoulder blades, and the low rumble of his voice while he gives instructions. And his hands. God, those hands.
I’m so distracted I don’t realize how much time has passed until I notice him swiping the sweat off his brow with the hem of his shirt, revealing the kind of stomach that makes the air feel hot.
“Hey,” I call out, lifting a bottle of cold water. “How about a break?”
He turns, and that look he gives me? It hits low. Very low.
He walks over, and I stand, holding the bottle out.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, taking it from me. His fingers brush mine—warm and calloused—sending a small shiver up my arm.
He downs half the bottle in one go, throat working, sweat glistening down his temples. When he’s done, he hands it back, gaze lingering.
“You staring, Shiloh?” he asks quietly.
Heat shoots to my cheeks. “No.”
“Mm.” He steps closer. “Looked like staring.”
“I was observing,” I correct, lifting my chin.
“Observing what?”
I gesture vaguely at all of him. “Your… construction technique.”
His brow lifts, amused. “Is that right?”
I nod very seriously. “Very technical. Very advanced.”
“Is that so?” He’s close now. Too close.
“Mm-hm.” My voice softens. “And maybe I was… appreciating the view a little.”
He hums, low and pleased. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His hand slides around my waist, pulling me just a little closer. “Come here.”
And before I can think, or pretend I’m not already lightheaded from the way he’s looking at me, he kisses me.
Not soft, polite, or morning-sweet. This kiss is heat, sweat, tension and want.
The “I’ve been thinking about you all morning” kind.
His hand grips my hip, grounding and demanding all at once.
I melt into him because resisting Cole is like trying to stop gravity.
I’m kissing him back when I hear it. A throat clearing. Then another.
Then—“Are you kidding me?!”
Cole pulls back slowly. I don’t even have to turn to know.
Zane.
Jace.
Beck.
Standing ten feet away, looking like they just caught their baby sister making out with the devil himself.
“Oh, for the love of—“ I mutter under my breath.
Zane’s voice hits first, sharp, older-brother authority that was fine when I was twelve but grates like sandpaper now.
“Are you kidding me?” he snaps, looking between me and Cole like he’s witnessing a crime scene instead of a kiss.
Jace folds his arms, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. “This is what’s been going on? Behind our backs?”
Beck just stares at Cole like he’s measuring which part of his face he’ll punch first.
Cole steps slightly in front of me—a small thing, barely noticeable to most people, but I feel it down my spine. He’s protective, but he’s wary too, like he knows three Morgan brothers equal nuclear tension.
“When did this start?” Jace demands.
“That’s not—“
“Ella.” His voice sharpens. “When?”
I inhale slowly. “A while back.”
“How long?” Zane presses.
I hesitate, and Jace’s eyes flash. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Beck’s voice breaks next, rough and loud. “Did he trick you? Huh? Manipulate you into giving him the damn contract? Because that’s what it looks like, Ella.”
Cole stiffens beside me.
“Don’t,” I whisper to Beck. “Don’t you dare.”
But he’s already pacing, running a hand through his hair. “Is he why Calista slapped you? Her and Toby showing up everywhere to make trouble? All of it started when he came into the picture.”
Cole steps forward then, before I can stop him.
“You think I wanted any of that?” he growls. “You think I don’t know exactly who’s to blame for the shit Calista pulls?”
“That’s the thing,” Zane snaps. “Every time she causes chaos, Ella ends up in the crossfire. Our sister. Not you. Not your ex. Ella.”
Cole’s voice drops to a warning. “I already know that. I never wanted her to get caught in the middle.”
Jace’s face darkens. “Then stay away from our sister.”
Cole doesn’t move. “She’s not a child.”
“She’s our responsibility,” Zane barks.
“No,” Cole counters, voice steady but furious. “She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices.”
The moment he says it, Beck lunges. Not a punch, not yet, but a lightning-fast step that sends every muscle in Cole’s body snapping to tension, ready to counter.
I jump between them so fast Beck nearly collides with me.
“Stop!” I yell, palms out, one hand on Cole’s chest, one on Beck’s arm.
“Ella—move,” Jace tries reaching for me.
“No,” I snap. “I am not moving, and none of you are touching him.”
Zane looks at me with frustrated betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell us, Ella?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, heat building behind my ribs. “Maybe because I knew you’d react like three pissed-off bulls in a china shop?”
Jace shakes his head, voice low. “We would’ve protected you.”
“I don’t need protecting,” I shoot back.
“You do when the man you’re with comes with a psychotic ex-wife attached,” Beck spits.
Cole starts forward again, but I slam a hand into his chest.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “For me. Don’t.”
He stops. Barely. His breath is hot against my temple, jaw flexing under my fingertips.
Zane’s voice breaks in again, quieter but sharper. “Ella, she slapped you. Because of him.”
“No,” I say fiercely. “She slapped me because she’s a terrible person. Because she wanted to hurt someone, and I was there. That’s not on Cole.”
Jace gestures angrily toward the construction site. “And what about this? All this work? You two hid a relationship long enough for him to secure the biggest contract of his life. Tell me that doesn’t look—“
“Don’t you finish that sentence,” I warn, ice cooling every inch of me. “Cole didn’t get the job because he slept with me. He got it because he’s good. Because he’s the best.”
“He should’ve told us,” Beck mutters.
Zane steps forward, voice deep. “She’s our sister, man. Why would you do this?”
“And she’s my woman,” Cole fires back.
A stunned silence falls over all of us.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, chest, and throat. Cole doesn’t take it back. Doesn’t flinch. He stands there like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
Jace shakes his head. “This can’t happen.”
“It’s already happening,” I reply. “And none of you even tried to understand it.”
“You blindsided us,” Zane says.
“Oh, please,” I snap. “Like any of you would’ve reacted calmly if we’d walked into Sunday breakfast holding hands?”
They don’t answer.
I poke a finger into Zane’s chest. “You want to talk about age differences? You and Ava have the same ten-year gap. And I supported you from day one. I smiled, cheered, and welcomed her into this family.”
Zane’s jaw clenches, but he stays quiet.
“And Jace,” I say, turning to him, “Tessa was twenty-three when she fell in love with you. Same age gap as Cole and I. I stood by you both when you doubted that she was too young for a single dad with a complicated life.”
Jace swallows hard, but his face stays stone-still.
“And Beck?” I continue. “Quinn was hired to clean up your reputation. Your whole relationship started in chaos. Did I ever judge you?”
He looks away. I take a breath, shaky, exhausted, hurt.
“I have been nothing but supportive of all of you. Your relationships. Your choices. Your messes. But the second I find something good for myself, something real, you attack it.”
None of them speak.
It hurts. God, it hurts.
I turn back to Cole, grabbing his hand. “We’re done here.”
“Ella—“ Zane starts.
“No,” I say, voice firm and final. “You don’t get to tear him apart and pretend it’s love. Not today.”
I tug Cole with me, steps sharp against the gravel, disappointment burning hot in my chest. Cole walks beside me silently, his hand firm around mine, steady even though he’d just been ready to throw punches on my behalf.