Chapter Four #2
“It’s more comfortable than any of the bunks in the barracks.”
When she didn’t try to argue, he nudged the third box with his boot. “Grab this box. We’ll move your things now.”
Because the thought of her going to that empty rental alone—possibly afraid—didn’t sit right with him at all.
* * * * *
Zee stood beside the truck while Church placed the last of her belongings into the back seat.
The evening air had cooled quickly once the sun dropped behind the mountains, and she hugged her arms around herself, both from the chill and the seriousness of what she was doing.
Sure, she was moving. Again. But seeing everything she owned in the world through Church’s eyes… It stung.
Everything she owned now fit into a small pile. A couple of duffel bags. Three cardboard boxes. The security equipment she’d had delivered to their workplace.
And Matt.
“That’s it?” Church asked.
“That’s it.”
It sounded even smaller out loud.
He hadn’t asked many questions. He just helped. And she was so grateful for both of those actions as well as for the man himself. Church wasn’t only a trusted friend. He felt almost like family.
While she packed, he’d watched her move through the Airbnb. When she turned to pick up one of the bags, she saw Church frozen beside the dresser where she’d placed the wooden box.
His hands hovered over it for three heartbeats before he picked it up.
The box was made of dark walnut, smooth and simple with a small brass plate on the lid. No elaborate carving. No ornate handles. Just Matt’s name etched into the metal with the dates beneath it.
Church had gone still, the box cradled in his big hands with as much care as he’d carried Matt’s coffin to the church that day.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“I didn’t want to scatter him anywhere I wasn’t going to stay.”
She’d moved too often—new towns, new jobs, more temporary places that never felt right. The idea of leaving him somewhere permanent when she didn’t even know where she belonged yet felt wrong.
The sentence slipped out before she could stop it. “I never imagined I’d be carrying him instead.”
Church’s fingers tightened on the box. He looked at the engraved plate, his expression unreadable.
“I would’ve done the same.” His gritty tone and the simple answer felt like strong arms coming around her.
Now, as they loaded the last of her things into the truck, Church carefully placed the wooden box on the passenger seat.
They climbed in, and she cradled the box in her lap as he navigated the road leading to the ranch. The view was different here, but no less striking. Twilight spread across the land in soft blue layers. When the ranch gates came into view, a set of security lights blinked on automatically.
Now this kind of security she could appreciate. She just hoped it was enough.
By the time they parked, tension she hadn’t known she was carrying eased a little, leaving her feeling drained.
“We made it in time for dinner.” He suddenly sounded more cheerful, and the sound drew an unexpected laugh from her throat.
He glanced at her. “You didn’t think that changed, did you? I may be older, but my appetite’s the same.”
She tilted her face up to his. He wasn’t talking about that kind of appetite, but a small shiver—just as surprising to her as her laugh—slipped down her spine anyway.
He stared down at her, silent and as strong as the day she met him.
The years had placed a few more lines around his blue eyes and hard mouth.
And he was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt bearing the Black Heart Ranch logo on it with a horse galloping behind the words with a rope whipping out to cross the T.
Her fingers twitched, ready to run over the words…and feel the solid steel chest of his chest underneath.
Her breath was coming a little too fast. She must be taking their pretend marriage a little too seriously.
“Where do we find this dinner anyway?”
He pointed to a huge building. “That’s the therapy lodge. For veterans.”
She sucked in a breath and faced the lodge. Warm light spilled from the windows, and she knew the inside would be just as welcoming.
“I love it.”
He stepped up beside her, a smile softening his rugged features. “So do I.”
He opened the door for her and the smell reached her—roasted meat and fresh buttery bread that made her stomach cramp with sudden hunger.
They entered the cafeteria that, despite the long wooden tables and heavy timber beams spanning the ceiling, looked more like a big family dining room. People sat around the tables with plates of food in front of them, laughing and sharing easy conversation.
A baby fussed in a highchair near the fireplace. A couple argued about whether cherry cobbler was better than pumpkin pie.
Zee stopped just inside the doorway, the scene hitting her harder than she could ever have expected.
Love lived in this room.
This wasn’t the perfection of the movie set. It was real life—messy and loud. Filled with families. Couples. Friends who looked like they’d shared hundreds of dinners together already.
For a second the longing in her chest nearly knocked the breath out of her. This was what she had wanted too…once.
Not necessarily this ranch or these exact people, but the same shape of life. A place to come home to. A husband dropping his keys on the table and bringing his arms around her. Kids running through a cozy space while dinner cooked on the stove.
She and Matt had talked about it late at night between deployments. Their dream was always the same—a small house in a quiet area. Maybe a dog. Children when the time was right. They’d planned the future the way young couples did, assuming the dream would be there when they were ready someday.
Someday had died with him.
Church touched her elbow. “Come on.”
She had no choice but to leave her memories behind and move forward. He guided her into the room and began introducing her to people as they walked toward the buffet.
“This is Zee,” he said more than once. “She works at the training facility.”
That was it.
Not Matt’s widow. Not the woman who tragedy had hollowed out and fear had frozen.
Just Zee.
The difference settled over her like a warm blanket.
Everyone greeted her with a kind word or friendly nod. When they finally reached the buffet, Church passed her a plate and a tray and began filling his and hers both, adding baked chicken and creating a well for gravy in her mashed potatoes.
As they approached the desserts, he leaned close to rumble, “The cherry cobbler’s fantastic, but the pumpkin pie’s better.”
She looked up into his eyes and her heart beat a little faster as she saw the teasing spark in his eyes. “How am I supposed to choose?”
His lips curved into a genuine smile. “You don’t. Take one of each and we can share.” He loaded her tray and they took their seats at a table. Someone pushed a chair out for her, and she sank down with a word of thanks.
For the first time in years, she sat at a table to share a meal with others. It felt foreign and familiar all at once.
At the end of the table, a couple exchanged a look so full of affection that it made her chest tighten. Church introduced them as part of the family behind the Black Heart but Zee was too fascinated by everything to remember their names.
Church fit into it all without effort. People greeted him with easy respect. Someone clapped him on the shoulder. Another man joked about him hogging all the chicken.
Zee looked on with a strange mix of warmth and sadness. He belonged here. And once upon a time, she might have too.
The ache in her chest didn’t ruin the evening, but it floated beneath it, reminding her how far she’d drifted from the future she’d imagined.
After the meal, people began drifting outside. Church remained seated beside her. “There’s a bonfire. If you’d like to go.”
She thought about all the hours that stretched between now and the time she ended up at Church’s place. Possibly in his bed.
No—not that way, she admonished herself even as heat landed in her stomach.
“We don’t have to go. We can just get you settled—”
“I’d like to go.” She set her fork down.
“Sure you don’t want to finish that pie? Be a shame to leave the last bite.”
She laughed. “It’s all yours.”
He scooped it up without hesitation and popped it in his mouth, making her stomach flutter.
They cleared their trays and drifted outside. The fire had been built high and sparks rose into the dark sky.
From the edge of the clearing she could see fence marked pastures. As they passed a gate, she noted a small camera was mounted on it. There was security everywhere, and for the first time in forever, she felt safe.
The fire popped and someone across the circle laughed. Zee stared at their faces. Not all were smiling—but they all looked content.
Sitting here with the firelight warming her face, with Church and the people who had invited her into their fold without hesitation, Zee realized she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time.
Peace.
The word filled her chest, like a fragile spark shooting up into the sky. She was afraid that if she put a name on the feeling that it would disappear.
For so long, calm had only ever been the heartbeat before everything went wrong—a moment before a lock was forced and her world rocked under her feet.
She curled her fingers in her lap, a habit that began after Matt’s death, but this time she didn’t squeeze them as tight. There was no threat here, not right now. Just the warmth of the fire on her face and a man beside her who didn’t make her feel so alone.
Her throat tightened with an ache of longing, but she couldn’t have any of this. She didn’t belong.
The thought came automatically, but for the first time since Matt…it didn’t feel entirely true.
Her gaze slid to Church, an old friend and a dear one. A link to her past and yet he was here in her present.
Out of the corner of her eye, she studied him, sitting beside her, one arm draped along the back of the bench, close enough she could feel the heat of him without touching. He wasn’t making any moves on her. He was just…here.
And he and the others all made her feel welcome.
Maybe she didn’t belong here yet.
But she wanted to.