Chapter Seven #2
For a moment, they didn’t speak. The tranquility of the scene felt almost…surreal after the conversation they just had.
One of the horses lifted its head, ears twitching in curiosity.
“They’re beautiful,” she murmured, leaning on the fence beside Church.
He nodded. “They find peace in the land. Same as people.”
The horse stopped a few yards away and studied them with dark, patient eyes.
The tightness that had lived in her chest for months loosened a little more with every breath she took. Out here, there were no shattered windows or forced locks, no police questions.
Just horses and mountains and the low whisper of wind. And the warmth of Church beside her.
“You can ask me questions if you want,” she said after a long moment.
He glanced sideways at her. “You already said enough.”
She blinked at the grass on the other side of the fence, tall blades swaying in the breeze. “I’m not used to people believing me.”
The crease of his jaw bulged as if he didn’t like that. But he didn’t speak.
The horse flicked his ears again and lowered his head to graze.
“When I took this job, I thought it would be different. I thought if I came to another military base, it would stop.”
His gaze moved across the pasture, but she felt his attention on her like a warm weight. “It is different. You’re not alone with it anymore.”
The words went deep inside her, landing as soft as clouds.
She didn’t respond right away. She wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden warmth behind her ribs. For years she’d been carrying the fear and trying not to let it define her life.
Now Church knew, and instead of backing away from it, he was standing right beside her.
She inched closer, and their elbows brushed. He didn’t move, but she heard his intake of air.
After another few minutes, he pushed away from the fence. “Come on.”
They walked the rest of the way to the barn in companionable silence. She climbed the narrow stairs ahead of him, and somehow, when she entered the small suite, this time it felt familiar.
Simple and solid. The couch looked cozier. The small kitchen, quaint. Even the boots lined up near the door looked homey.
He touched her arm, and when she looked up at him, concern burned in his eyes. “Sit.”
She sank to the couch.
He headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Back in a minute.” His footsteps on the stairs faded, leaving her to listen to the silence of the space. She pulled a pillow into her lap and the masculine notes of Church’s cologne filled her nose.
She didn’t know what made her bury her nose in it or breathe deeper, but doing it comforted her and she didn’t overthink why.
This afternoon she had been standing on shattered glass in a parking lot. Now she was hugging a pillow that smelled like Church as the fading light trickled through the windows, and she felt safe.
Still, a nervous thought crept in. Maybe she’d said too much. The last thing she wanted was to bring her troubles down on maybe the only person left in the world who knew her. And she really didn’t want to complicate things for any of the others on the ranch.
She tucked the pillow against her chin and forced herself not to spiral.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs and when the door opened, she jolted.
Church stepped inside carrying two takeout containers and a couple bottles of water. His gaze roamed over her, taking in her pose and the pillow she held tight.
“I figured you could use something to eat.” He walked the few steps to the coffee table and set everything down.
The smell of savory food made her stomach tighten with hunger. She set the pillow aside and perched on the edge of the couch. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
He sat next to her, close but not touching. His presence alone made more of her stress flow away w a long sigh.
“You haven’t been eating enough.”
The observation made her glance at his face. Concern creased the corner of each eye, and she folded her thumb inside her palm to keep from reaching up and smoothing it over the lines.
“I notice things…”
Why did it feel as if he stopped himself from saying more?
He pushed a container her way and she cracked the lid to find all the world’s best comfort foods.
She let out a gasp. “Macaroni and cheese! And fried chicken.” She peered closer. “Is that cobbler?”
His eyes glowed with warmth. “Not just any cobbler. Chef’s famous blueberry cobbler.”
“I wonder if Navy loves it as much as his muffins.”
He chuckled. “You met Navy? I’m not surprised.”
As they ate, she told him about her encounter with the child and he shared a few tales about her and some of the family members she hadn’t met yet.
The food settled warmly in her stomach, and her nerves calmed with every bite. It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of her like this—making sure she ate.
She set her half-empty box on the table and leaned back, hands clasped over her stomach. “I haven’t been this full in a long time.”
He sat back too, one long leg stretched out. She sat close to Church before, but now she was more aware of him than ever, from the long muscle of his thigh to the bulge of his bicep.
“You’ve been carrying all of this by yourself.” His gritty voice drew her gaze to his face.
She nodded slowly. “I didn’t really have another choice.”
“What about other family members?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t like Matt. They wrote me off when I married him. The military became my family. The wives, my sisters. The guys, my brothers.”
His lips compressed.
She reached over and lay her hand over his. Not because she was playing a role on the set of a movie but because she needed to make contact.
“Now I have someone who believes me.” The realization that this man, Grant Upchurch, had listened to her and immediately started protecting her instead of doubting her made her chest ache.
He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers. “We all believe you, Zee.”
She stared at their hands. His was large and callused, bearing the old, whitened traces of scars. A capable hand. A beautiful hand.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to do anything.” He stroked his thumb over hers, sending a bolt of heat to her stomach.
He gestured to the takeout containers. “You make room for that cobbler yet? You don’t want to miss out.”
She smiled into his eyes. “I think I did.”
She didn’t immediately release his hand—she wasn’t ready to let go. But when the sweet blueberry goodness hit her tongue, she groaned.
“Told ya.” He spooned a bite into his mouth.
They finished the last bites and set their containers aside.
“Thank you, Church. For everything.”
He lifted a hand toward her face. Her heart leapt at the thought of his warm, rough fingers on her skin. But he just closed his fingers around a lock of her hair and gave it a small tug.
“You’re not fighting this alone anymore.”
The low grittiness of his voice sent a ripple through her chest.
Outside the window the pasture had gone dark and the ranch lights flickered on one by one.
Zee leaned back into the couch cushions, a strange and unfamiliar sensation of relief seeping into her bones.
For the first time since the day the officer had stood on her doorstep and told her Matt wasn’t coming home, the weight on her shoulders didn’t feel quite so heavy.