Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
NOT HER HOME
Shaw
“For you I turn night into day.” — S
A s I wake to the gentle patter of rain against the window, I can’t help but smile at the sight of Ella sleeping peacefully beside me. Her not-so-delicate snore somehow sounds endearing as hell. I lean closer, kiss her small button nose, and then her forehead, marveling at how content she looks next to me.
I’ve never shared a bed with a woman before; I certainly don’t bring them here to the ranch. It always feels too damn intimate, but here she is, sleeping soundly next to me. Her sweet scent is all over my sheets and skin.
Propped up on one elbow, I watch her as she sleeps. Her breathing is steady and soft, rising and falling gently in sync with the rhythm of my own heart.
I touch her cheek with my fingertips, admiring how breathtaking she looks at this moment. Her hair, having tumbled out of the ponytail she went to bed with, spreads across the pillow in a dark, tousled cascade. A curl falls delicately across her face, tickling her cheek and drawing a sleepy smile.
Fuck.
I pull my hand away and rub my chest. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I have fallen hard for her. I’ve fallen for her smile and the sweet way she sees the world, even when it’s unkind to her.
I’ve fallen for the side of her that no one else gets to see.
She’s been the most unexpected but lovely plot twist.
At the back of my mind, I know this won’t last. Good things never do for men like me, but I can’t help holding onto the dream of her before it’s ripped away by cruel reality.
I chuckle softly when Ella’s stomach growls, filling the quiet room. She murmurs in her sleep, as if her dreams have been interrupted by hunger. Watching her frown sleepily, I find the sound of her rumbling stomach just as endearing as her snoring.
Leaning close, I brush a light kiss against her temple, my breath warm and tender. “Fucking pink baby, you make everything seem beautiful,” I whisper.
Careful not to disturb her, I slip out of bed in nothing but briefs and feel the cool touch of the wooden floor beneath my feet. Glancing back at Ella, I quietly head to the kitchen. The soft thud of my steps mixes with the sound of raindrops outside.
In the kitchen, I find Poppy trying to climb up a chair. Ella’s mischievous baby goat has a knack for following me around lately. Sometimes, when I come home from being outside all day, she’s waiting for me on the porch with that big pink bow on her head.
As if sensing me, Poppy scurries to my side. I chuckle as she nuzzles my leg. “Morning, rugrat,” I say, and she tilts her small head as if she understands.
Deciding to prepare breakfast for Ella, I set about making her favorite—chocolate waffles. I mix the ingredients, cook the batter in the waffle iron, and crisp up some bacon until it’s golden just like I know she likes it. I also slice up some strawberries and add them to her plate.
While I wait for the waffles, I feed Poppy. “Baaa,” she says.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” I laugh.
Fuck.
Now I talk to goats too.
Wonderful.
As I plate the waffles, arranging them with powdered sugar and whipped cream, I feel my heart swell. Sweets make her smile, and it’s the little things that make her the happiest.
Just as I’m about to start the coffee, my phone buzzes on the kitchen island. For a moment, I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the coffee maker.
Reaching for the phone, my heart sinks when I see the name displayed on the screen. The mere sight of the name stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Ella’s father is calling. A man who doesn’t harbor the warmest feelings toward me. The feelings are mutual, though.
With a sigh, I answer the call, my voice detached and uncaring. “Sebastian.”
The man always hated when anyone who wasn’t his wife called him that.
There’s a brief pause, likely of discontent, before the gruff voice on the other end of the line responds. “The sick fuck was found. My girl can come home.”
Home.
This is her home.
I listen quietly as Ella’s father’s voice comes through the phone, his words cutting through the peaceful morning like a sharp knife. The news of the Kenton family’s stalker being apprehended is bittersweet. I have known this day would come soon, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.
My chest aches as if it has been run over. Sebastian’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Did you hear me, Banning?”
My grip tightens on the phone. Sebastian’s mention of Ella going home reminds me that we are only temporary. I know this, yet I allowed myself to believe something could happen between us. I allowed myself to have something I shouldn’t.
She was never for you…
Sebastian’s next words cut even deeper. He questions my ability to provide for her dreams, implying that Montana can’t offer what she deserves. That I can’t give his daughter what she deserves.
“She’s happy here,” I finally respond, my voice carrying a rough edge, betraying the emotions swirling within me.
“A woman like my daughter deserves the world. We both know this.” Sebastian’s voice softens slightly, but his resolve remains firm. “She has dreams too big for Montana,” he reiterates, his concern for her future palpable even over the phone. “And she deserves more than you’ll be able to give her.”
Crack.
A knife to my heart would hurt less.
I know all of this, but it still hurts like hell to hear it from the man who means the world to the woman who means everything to me.
I listen, my jaw clenched as I struggle to breathe. I am caught between emotions—love for my moonshine and a deep-seated desire to protect her dreams versus the stark reality of what she deserves. What she deserves is all the finest things in life. She deserves someone who isn’t angry at the world and who would gladly put on a suit to accompany her to every event in her world. A man with ambitions who fulfills her father’s expectations.
A man who makes her proud.
A man who is not me.
“It will hurt her heart,” I warn, my voice heavy with resignation. I know this conversation is inevitable, that our little world hidden in Montana can’t last forever. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.
Sebastian sighs on the other end. “I’ll contact you again when it’s time,” he says, the finality in his tone cutting through my heart.
As the call ends, I stare out the window, raindrops tracing silent paths down the glass. Poppy nudges against my leg. “Love always leaves. It never stays.”
I should have guarded my heart better. Now, it no longer belongs to me. It belongs to her, and she will soon leave, taking my entire being with her.