Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
CADE
THREE DAYS.
That's how long it takes for Natalie to stop flinching every time I enter a room.
I notice because noticing is what I do. Ten years as a combat medic trained me to read bodies, to see the small signs that tell you when someone's in pain even if they won't admit it.
The way she holds her shoulders. The tension in her jaw.
The micro expressions that flicker across her face before she can hide them.
Day one, she was a raw nerve. Wound so tight I could practically hear her vibrating. Day two, she started breathing normally when I walked past. Day three, she looked up from the book she was reading and actually smiled at me.
Progress.
Now it's day four, and she's standing at the edge of my greenhouse, watching me transplant echinacea seedlings with an expression I can't quite read.
"You can come in." I gesture to the open door. "Won't bite."
She steps inside, and I watch her take it all in. The rows of medicinal herbs, the grow lights, the careful organization that keeps me sane. This place is my sanctuary within a sanctuary, the one spot where my hands do only good.
"It's incredible." She moves between the tables, trailing her fingers over lavender and chamomile and lemon balm. "You grow all of this yourself?"
"Most of it. Some I forage from the mountain. There's a creek about half a mile east with wild mint growing along the banks. Yarrow in the meadow past the tree line."
She stops at a table full of seedlings, leaning down to examine them more closely. Her hair falls forward, catching the light through the greenhouse panels, and I have to force my attention back to the plant in my hands.
"What are these?"
"Calendula. Good for skin healing, inflammation. I make a salve that Doc Morrison uses at the clinic in town."
"You supply a clinic?"
"Volunteer there once a month. Started as a way to keep my skills sharp without..." I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
Without holding another dying soldier in my arms. Without feeling someone's life slip away under my hands.
Natalie straightens and looks at me, and there's understanding in her brown eyes. Like she heard everything I didn't say.
"Without the hard parts," she finishes softly.
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Something like that."
She wanders deeper into the greenhouse, stopping at each section to ask questions. What does this one do? How long until that one's ready to harvest? Can you really make tea from these?
I answer all of them. Find myself talking more than I have in months, explaining the properties of each plant, the best conditions for growth, the way traditional medicine and modern science intersect in ways most people never consider.
She listens like she's actually interested. Not polite interest, not waiting for her turn to speak. Real, genuine curiosity that makes me want to keep talking.
When was the last time someone wanted to hear what I had to say?
"You love this." She says it like a discovery. "I can hear it in your voice."
"Took me a while to figure out." I finish with the echinacea and wipe my hands on my jeans.
"After I left the Army, I didn't know who I was without a mission.
Tried a bunch of things. Drinking didn't help.
Isolation made it worse. Then I started growing herbs and realized I could still heal people without watching them die. "
The words come out easier than expected. Maybe because she doesn't look at me with pity. Doesn't rush to reassure me or change the subject.
"I used to teach." Natalie's voice is quiet. "Elementary school. Third grade."
"Yeah?"
"I loved it. The kids were..." She pauses, something painful crossing her face. "Kevin made me quit. Said it wasn't appropriate for his wife to work. That I should focus on making a home for us."
I keep my expression neutral even as anger burns in my chest. "That what you wanted?"
"No. But by then I'd stopped knowing what I wanted. Stopped thinking I had the right to want anything." She shakes her head. "Sorry. That's probably more than you needed to know."
"Hey." I wait until she meets my eyes. "You can tell me anything. Or nothing. Whatever you need."
That phrase keeps slipping out around her. Whatever you need. Like I've appointed myself responsible for her wellbeing.
Maybe I have.
She holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see her weighing something. Making a decision.
"I started writing," she says finally. "After I left. Children's books. Nothing published, just... stories. It helps."
"Can I read one sometime?"
The surprise on her face tells me she didn't expect that question. "You'd want to?"
"Wouldn't ask if I didn't."
Her smile is small but real, and it does something to my chest that I'm not ready to examine.
"Maybe." She turns back to the plants, running her fingers through a pot of lavender. "Someday."
We work together for the next hour. I show her how to transplant seedlings without damaging the roots, how to test soil pH, how to prune herbs to encourage growth. She picks it up fast, her small hands careful and precise.
I try not to notice how natural she looks here. Try not to imagine her in this greenhouse every morning, sunlight in her hair, dirt on her fingers.
Dangerous thoughts. She's healing. She's vulnerable. The last thing she needs is me developing feelings I have no business having.
"Cade?"
I look up to find her watching me, a smudge of soil on her cheek.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you wanted to take a break. You've been staring at that same pot for five minutes."
Caught. I set down the pot and stretch, my back cracking from hunching over the table. "Yeah. A break sounds good. You hungry?"
"Always, apparently." She pats her stomach with a rueful smile. "I think my body's trying to make up for three months of gas station food."
"That's good. Means you're healing." I head for the greenhouse door, and she falls into step beside me. "How are the ribs feeling?"
"Better. Still sore, but better."
"And the wrist?"
"Hardly notice it anymore." She holds it up, rotating it carefully. The swelling has gone down significantly since she arrived.
I reach out without thinking, my fingers wrapping around her forearm to examine the joint. Her skin is soft and warm under my callused palm, and her pulse jumps under my fingers at the contact.
We both freeze.
I'm standing too close. Close enough to smell the lavender from the greenhouse clinging to her hair, close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body.
Her lips part. Just slightly. Just enough to make my brain short circuit.
I should step back. Should put distance between us and pretend this moment never happened.
I don't move.
"Cade." My name comes out breathy. Uncertain.
"Yeah." My voice is rough.
Neither of us moves. The air between is electric, full of things I shouldn't be feeling for a woman who came to me broken and bleeding four days ago.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to notice.
I lean in. Can't help it. Can't stop myself. She's magnetic and I'm metal and the pull is stronger than my self control.
Her breath catches. Her eyes flutter closed.
And my goddamn radio crackles to life.
"Cade, you copy? It's Mace."
We spring apart like teenagers caught by a parent. Natalie's cheeks are flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I'm pretty sure my heart is trying to beat its way out of my ribcage.
I grab the radio from my belt. "Yeah. I'm here."
"Deck's calling a team meeting. Something came up. Can you be at the lodge in thirty?"
Natalie's face has gone pale. She heard "something came up" and immediately went to the worst place.
"What kind of something?"
"Nothing urgent. Just some security protocol stuff he wants to go over. Vivian's nesting and he's channeling it into productive paranoia."
The relief that washes over Natalie is visible. Her shoulders drop from around her ears.
"I'll be there." I clip the radio back to my belt and turn to her. "You okay?"
"I thought..." She doesn't finish, but she doesn't need to.
"I know. But it's not him. Just team stuff."
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. The moment between us is gone, broken by reality and fear and all the reasons this can't happen.
Probably for the best.
"Come with me," I say before I can think better of it.
"What?"
"To the meeting. It's at the main lodge, about two miles from here. You should meet the team anyway. They're good people."
She hesitates. I can see the war on her face between wanting to stay hidden and wanting to stop being so afraid.
"Will there be a lot of people?"
"Eight, maybe nine. Most of them are as bad at small talk as I am." I offer a small smile. "Plus Vivian will be there. She's been wanting to meet you since she sent those clothes over."
"She has?"
"She's been texting me daily updates asking how you're settling in. Pretty sure she's already planning to adopt you."
That gets a surprised laugh out of her. It's a good sound. A sound I want to hear more of.
"Okay." She squares her shoulders like she's preparing for battle. "Okay, I'll come."
"Good." I gesture toward the cabin. "Let me grab a few things and we'll head out."
Inside, I trade my dirty work shirt for a clean henley and splash water on my face. In the bathroom mirror, I see a man I barely recognize. There's color in my cheeks. Light in my eyes. Life in my expression that hasn't been there in years.
Four days. She's been here four days and she's already changing me.
I don't know if that terrifies me or thrills me.
Maybe both.
The drive to Guardian Peak's main lodge takes about fifteen minutes on the winding mountain road. Natalie is quiet beside me, watching the landscape pass with wide eyes.
"It's so beautiful up here," she murmurs. "I didn't really see it when I was walking. I was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other."
"That's survival mode. Your brain shuts down everything nonessential so you can keep moving."
"You sound like you know something about that."
"More than I'd like."
She doesn't push for details, and I appreciate it. We ride in comfortable silence until the lodge comes into view.
It's an impressive structure. Three stories of timber and stone, built to withstand mountain winters and whatever else nature throws at it. The original owners used it as a hunting lodge. Deck bought it five years ago and turned it into Guardian Peak's headquarters.
Several trucks are already parked outside. I pull in next to Wolfe's battered pickup and kill the engine.
"Ready?"
Natalie takes a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."
We walk in together, and I resist the urge to put my hand on the small of her back. To claim her in front of my brothers. To show them she's with me.
She's not with me. She's under my protection.
Keep telling yourself that, Marshall.
The main room is already full when we enter.
Deck stands by the fireplace, one arm around Vivian's waist. She's five months along now, her pregnancy visible beneath the soft sweater she's wearing.
Mace is sprawled in an armchair, feet up on an ottoman.
Wolfe lurks in the corner with Sadie pressed against his side, her constant stream of chatter the only sound in the room until we walk in.
Then everyone goes quiet. Every pair of eyes lands on Natalie.
She freezes beside me, and I feel the tension lock through her body.
"Everyone, this is Natalie." I keep my voice casual. "Natalie, this is everyone."
Vivian is the first to move. She crosses the room with a warm smile and takes both of Natalie's hands in hers.
"I'm so glad you came. Cade's been stingy with the details, and I've been dying to meet you properly." She shoots me a look that promises interrogation later. "The clothes fit okay?"
"Perfectly." Natalie's voice is steadier than I expected. "Thank you so much for sending them."
"Please. I remember what it's like to show up in these mountains with little to nothing." Vivian squeezes her hands. "Come sit with me. Let the boys talk shop while we get to know each other."
She leads Natalie to a sofa near the window, and I watch them go with a strange mix of relief and reluctance. Vivian will take care of her. Vivian understands.
But part of me wants to be the one sitting beside her. Wants to be the one making her feel safe.
Deck appears at my shoulder. "She looks better than I expected."
"She's tougher than she looks."
"Mace ran the husband." Deck's voice drops low enough that only I can hear. "Kevin Pierce. Corporate lawyer out of Reno. Clean record officially, but there are rumors. Dismissed assault charges, witnesses who recanted, the usual pattern."
My jaw tightens. "He connected?"
"Connected enough. But not like us." Deck's green eyes are hard. "He finds his way here, he'll learn the difference between bought loyalty and the real thing."
I nod, some of the tension in my chest easing. Deck doesn't make promises he can't keep.
"There's something else." He hesitates, which is unlike him. "The way you're looking at her."
"What way?"
"Like she's already yours."
I don't have an answer for that. Don't have a denial that would sound convincing.
Deck's hand lands heavy on my shoulder. "Just be careful. She's fragile right now. And you're not exactly whole yourself."
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me to stew in words I don't want to hear.
He's right. I know he's right.
But when Natalie looks up from her conversation with Vivian and catches my eye across the room, when she smiles at me like I'm the only solid thing in her shaky world, I know being careful isn't going to be possible.
I'm already falling.
And I don't know how to stop.