Chapter Nine
Willow was fifteen minutes late getting to the kitchen the next morning—a rarity that would have raised eyebrows on any other day. But given the events of the previous evening, she doubted anyone would be up early enough to notice her delayed start to her morning routine.
She moved through the familiar actions on muscle memory, grinding fresh coffee beans and starting the first pot.
The rich aroma filled the kitchen as she began pulling out ingredients for breakfast, noting her body was pleasantly sore in ways that made a blush crawl up her cheeks every time she shifted.
The sound of footsteps on hardwood announced the arrival of a sister-in-law or two. Willow bit down on her lip, bracing herself for questions she wasn’t totally prepared to answer.
Layne appeared first, one hand resting on her growing belly as she moved to fix a cup of decaf tea. “Morning, Willow.”
“Hi.”
“A call came in after you left yesterday. Someone looking for a spot in the program. They asked for you. I didn’t get the number because they hung up when I told them you weren’t available.”
Willow’s brows pinched. “I hope they call back. Or I can look them up on caller ID.”
“Good idea.” She took in Willow’s appearance. “You look…different.”
“Didn’t have time to braid my hair is all.” She could kick herself for bringing up the time crunch. And she had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly what Layne was seeing.
There was probably no hiding the satisfied glow that seemed to radiate from head to toe.
“You look relaxed.” Honor added as she joined them. She took a step toward the coffeemaker and stopped when she saw the empty pot.
“Coffee will be ready in a few. I got a late start.” Could Willow make this any more obvious that she just climbed out of Decker’s bed and rushed through the fastest shower of her life?
Honor drifted to her usual seat across from Layne at the big table. Her eyes were bright as they took in Willow.
Rhae bounced in next with Navy on her hip, her trained therapist’s eye immediately cataloging details. “Your hair’s different. And you’re not in chore clothes.”
Willow glanced down at herself, realizing she’d put thought into her outfit this morning—soft jeans that hugged her curves and a red sweater that complemented her coloring.
She reached for a colorful flower mug to match her mood, then went about fixing scrambled eggs for the group.
Juliette entered with Aspen right behind, both women looking a little sleepy. Lastly, Shiloh, Oaks’s wife drifted into the kitchen, her usually radiant skin a little duller. But she still possessed her usual soft smile for all.
She walked right up to Rhae and took Navy from her arms, cuddling the child for a moment before settling her in her highchair while Rhae fetched the toddler a banana.
Shiloh cast Willow a sidelong look. “Willow, you always look like a model, but that red sweater has you positively glowing.”
“Thanks. But can we talk about what happened here after we left the bar last night? You all look like you could use a little more sleep.”
Shiloh issued a throaty laugh. “If you think we look tired, your brothers look like they went through a blender.”
“We were up late patching up your brothers. Carson was drenched in beer. He looked like he bathed in it. I guess someone tossed a pitcher at him.” Layne yawned.
“Oaks came home with bleeding knuckles.” Shiloh pulled the orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass.
Aspen fetched mugs for each of them and racked them up on the counter, ready for that caffeine. “Colt needed a couple stitches on his forehead. We had to drag the doctor out of bed.”
“Gray wrenched his shoulder throwing a guy out of the bar,” Honor said through a yawn.
Juliette shook her head. “I’m glad Theo missed out on the fun then. But we got home late from the performance.”
Rhae set a sippy cup of milk on the tray for Navy, who scooped it up and sucked, her eyes big over the plastic lid.
“And Denver?” Shiloh asked.
Rhae gave them an apologetic smile, but before she could respond, Carson walked in with Denver behind him.
“He was completely unscathed,” Carson announced.
Willow twisted to look at her brothers. “Why is that?”
Denver chuckled. “Couldn’t wreck my face for wedding day. I have to look my best for photos.” He and Rhae locked gazes in that lovey-dovey way that couples had right before they tied the knot. Willow had seen it with Carson and Layne, and again with Oaks and Shiloh.
Gray slipped into a seat beside Honor. “Some of us got hurt trying to protect Denver.” He jerked a thumb at their brother.
To avoid any questions about what happened after she left the Rusty Spur, she twisted back to her eggs.
After the guys ate, they went straight to work.
At last, Willow settled with her coffee and a plate of eggs and toast.
Aspen studied her. “Were you in the bar when the fight started?”
She swallowed a bite of egg, wishing she could stuff her mouth full to avoid answering. “Decker got me out of there when the fight broke out.” She shifted her stare to Honor. “We took Felicity home too.”
Honor gave her a grateful smile. “Thank goodness. She’s already going through enough with her business. She didn’t need to be caught up in a bar fight.”
“You said you took Felicity home. But Decker brought you home too?” Juliette’s eyes twinkled a little too much.
“Yes.” Willow sipped her coffee.
“To the ranch house,” Juliette said carefully.
“Well…” Willow’s cheeks burned. “Eventually.”
The explosion of female voices was immediate.
“Oh my God!”
“Finally!”
“I knew it!”
“About damn time!”
“What are we talking about?” Carson’s voice made Willow jump as he wandered in to refill his mug.
“Nothing you need to know about.” Layne shooed him out of the kitchen. “This is girl talk.”
Once her brother’s footsteps faded, all attention turned back to Willow, who was desperately wishing she could disappear into the floor.
“Okay, spill,” Layne demanded. “And don’t you dare try to deny what we all know happened.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” Willow’s grin threatened to split her face in half.
“We’re just excited to hear about some fresh blood. We don’t really want to hear about each other’s love lives. We’re all related and that’s just weird.” Juliette laughed.
“And we’ve been watching you two dance around each other for months,” Layne pointed out. “The tension was getting ridiculous.”
From Rhae’s lap, Navy babbled something that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
“See? Even Navy thinks it was about time.” Everyone laughed at Rhae’s sentiment.
Willow buried her face in her hands, half mortified and half deliriously happy. “You’re all terrible.”
“We’re invested in your happiness,” Honor corrected. “There’s a difference.”
This was her family, in all their nosy, protective, loving glory. It felt good to have something wonderful to be teased about.
“So,” Honor said when the laughter died down, “on a scale of one to ten, how good was—”
“I’m not answering that!” Willow cut her off, her face flaming.
“That good, huh?” Layne gave her a teasing look.
Navy clapped her hands as if she understood the joke, and even Willow had to admit that the sound of feminine laughter filling the kitchen was exactly what the old house was meant for.
Great as it was though, Willow would completely skip her morning routine if it meant having more mind-blowing time in bed with her gorgeous SEAL.
* * * * *
The therapy lodge was bustling with activity despite the early hour. He nodded to a couple of the residents heading toward the dining area, their conversations a low hum of camaraderie he’d grown accustomed to over the months.
He spotted Vander Pope, one of the newer veterans in the program, near the main entrance. He lengthened his strides to catch up with him. “Hey, Pope.”
“Dutch.” Ever since he entered the program, Pope had kept to himself. Didn’t say much, didn’t bother anybody. But he seemed to come out of his shell during card games.
They kept pace for a few steps.
Pope glanced Decker’s way. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”
He gave Pope a crooked grin. “You mean I skipped art therapy.”
The scar near the corner of Pope’s eye tugged when he gave him a faint smile in return. “I hate those damn bead projects.”
Decker snorted in commiseration with Pope. He clasped his shoulder like he would one of his brothers on his SEAL team. “How are things going?”
The vet moved in a month ago. And his screams echoed through the halls every night since.
He shifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “It’s going. Poker tonight if you aren’t busy in the barn.”
Decker threw him a look. “What would keep me in the barn?”
“Everyone knows you have a thing for Willow.”
Decker chuckled, feeling lighthearted. “You got me there. But I’ll try to make it.” The words felt wrong somehow, like he was agreeing to something that no longer applied to him.
Pope nodded. “See you there.” He took off in another direction, but Decker remained frozen in the hallway, realization hitting him with uncomfortable clarity.
He wasn’t in the program anymore. Rhae had cleared him, Carson had welcomed him to the team, and yet here he was, still occupying a room in the lodge like nothing had changed.
Someone else could use that space. Someone who actually needed the structured environment, the daily therapy sessions. Someone like him when he first arrived—broken, silent, barely holding on to his sanity by his fingertips.
The thought sat heavy in his chest as he made his way across the yard toward the main house.
He’d been so focused on passing the tests, on proving himself worthy of joining the team, that he hadn’t considered the practical implications.
Where would he live now? What was the protocol for transitioning from patient to employee?