Trussed In Hope (Healing Beret #2)

Chapter 1

HARDISON

The drive up to Cadell’s Fields was quieter than I expected.

Too much open sky, too much space to think, and my body ached with every bump in the road.

My flight had been delayed, so Elijah had left his truck at the airport for me to drive in.

It was a work truck, but still nice. You could feel the power of the engine, and how it navigated the terrain like a beast. Yeah, I felt the bumps in my body from the movement, but it was much better than it would have been in an older model. I doubt this thing was even a year old.

When the truck finally rolled to a stop, Elijah was already there waiting.

Arms crossed, leaning against the porch rail of the guesthouse like he’d been standing there for hours.

Same sharp eyes, same cocky half-smile that never quite reached his eyes anymore.

It was late, and I hadn’t expected him to be awake when I got here.

Should’ve known that there was no way that Elijah would sleep until I was nestled in bed.

I loved that about our brotherhood. We looked after one another no matter what.

“About damn time,” he said, pushing off the rail. “You drive like an old man now?”

I smirked, shifting carefully before swinging my bad leg out of the cab. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of sprinting up hills anymore. Besides, thought you’d appreciate me taking it slow. Wouldn’t want me wrecking your truck.”

“Not my truck,” Elijah shot back. “That beast belongs to Cadell’s Fields. I’m just the guy stupid enough to hand you the keys.”

I barked out a laugh, even though the movement tugged at hips. “You're still giving me hand-me-downs, huh?”

“Tradition,” Elijah said, reaching to clap my shoulder as I finally stood. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t linger—just enough contact to remind me we were still standing here, both of us breathing.

For a beat, neither of us spoke. His gaze flicked over me, reading the limp, the brace, the stiffness I tried to mask. I caught the shadow that crossed his expression before he tucked it away.

“Guesthouse is ready,” he said, breaking the silence. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The place smelled of fresh wood and lemon polish. Too damn clean for me. I set my bag down inside the door and let out a slow breath. I whistled, taking in how pretty she was. Everything looked brand new in here.

“You rebuilt all this?” I asked, scanning the exposed beams, the wide windows looking out onto the fields.

“Yeah. Thought it’d keep me busy.” Elijah shoved his hands in his pockets, that casual posture that never fooled me. “Didn’t think it’d end up being a rehab center for broken-down bastards.”

“Lucky for you, I make a great tenant. I don’t eat much, and I clean up after myself.”

“You snore like a chainsaw, Hardison.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Still holding that against me? Afghanistan. One tent. Years ago.”

“Some scars don’t fade.” He grinned, but it slipped too fast. His eyes darkened, dragging us back to the moment neither of us wanted to name.

“Elijah.” I leaned against the counter, meeting his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t there. Should’ve been. Maybe it would’ve been different if—”

“You were in a hospital,” I cut in. “With your wife bleeding out and your baby’s life in jeopardy. Don’t cheapen that. Don’t twist it into something else.”

He swallowed hard, shoulders bunching. “And you were holding the line without me. Men died. One of ours died. You almost—” He broke off, exhaling through his nose. “Feels like I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.”

“Brother, you were exactly where you were supposed to be,” I said quietly. “You think I’d trade your wife’s life for mine? For anyone’s? Not a chance.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was sharp. He nodded once, clipped and reluctant, like agreeing out loud would break him. That day was something that nobody in my squad would ever forget. Losing someone–our brother–broke something inside of us.

Finally, he smirked, but it came out crooked. “Still bossy as hell, even half-crippled.”

“Better than sulking like a teenager,” I shot back.

That cracked him. He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he moved toward the fridge. “Fine. Beer?”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

Elijah popped the caps off with the edge of the counter like it was second nature, sliding one bottle across to me. Leaving two more on the counter between us.

I caught it, careful not to let my hand shake too much when I twisted to settle onto the couch. The brace tugged at my leg, reminding me of every step, every failure I didn’t want him to see.

He dropped into the chair opposite me, sprawling in a way only Elijah could, like the world hadn’t once tried to chew him up and spit him out. He raised his bottle. “To second chances.”

I snorted but clinked anyway. “To surviving, you mean.”

The beer went down smooth, bitter enough to cut through the taste in my mouth that never left.

“Funny thing about surviving,” Elijah said after a long sip. His gaze fixed on the wall as if he could see something far beyond it. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like living.”

I studied him over the rim of the bottle. The words were too close to the bone, too familiar. “You thinking about Raya?”

His mouth flattened. He didn’t answer right away, just rolled the bottle between his palms. “Every day. Every time I close my eyes, I see her bleeding. I see you dragging men out of fire without me. I see the ones we couldn’t save.

I wasn’t even there, but my mind has created these images that make it real for me. ”

The room went still. I hated how easy it was to picture it too—the dust, the screams, the smell of burning metal. I was there. I saw it all happen. My ribs ached like my body remembered what my mind wouldn’t let go of.

“Hell of a gift we came home with,” I muttered.

Elijah huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Guilt?”

“Ghosts,” I corrected. “They don’t shut up.”

He nodded slowly, finally dragging his gaze back to me. “And now I’ve dragged you here, to my land, like this is some kind of healing retreat. Christ, Hardison. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “You’re giving me a place to stand when I can’t hold myself up. That’s more than most men get.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t sharp—it was raw.

Finally, Elijah tipped back the rest of his beer and set the bottle down with a soft thud. Grabbing a second one from the counter. “You’re still a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I weren’t.”

That earned me the faintest smirk, the kind that said he wasn’t okay—but maybe, just maybe, we both could be.

The silence stretched until I cleared my throat. “How’s Raya?”

For the first time all evening, Elijah’s expression softened. A genuine smile tugged at his mouth. “Pregnant as hell. Glowing. Bossing me around like a five-star general.”

That pulled a chuckle out of me, one that felt rusty but real. “Sounds about right. She's okay though?”

He nodded, the shadows in his eyes shifting to something lighter. “She’s strong. Baby’s strong too. Seven months along now. I keep waking up thinking I’m gonna break something just rolling over in bed and crushing them both.”

“Hell, if anyone’s indestructible, it’s her.” I took another pull from my beer. “You don’t have to carry that guilt anymore, Elijah. You stayed behind for them. No one blames you for that. No man left behind.” I reminded him.

His jaw worked, but he didn’t argue. That was as much as I was gonna get tonight.

I leaned back. “So tell me what mess you’ve roped me into.”

Elijah groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Bought out old man Greeley’s stock. Man had to sell off everything just to keep the bank from taking his place. I couldn’t watch him lose it all, so I picked up some of his animals. Didn’t exactly plan for the numbers, though.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Numbers?”

He stood, grabbing a mini-notebook from his pocket and tossed it my way. The scribbled columns nearly made me choke on my beer. Cattle. Chickens. Goats. Even a few horses.

“You trying to start Noah’s Ark out here?” I muttered.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Elijah lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I thought a few head of cattle would round out the herd I wanted. Didn’t realize Greeley would unload his whole damn farm when I only asked for a quarter of it.”

“And your foreman?” I asked.

“Gone to Tallahassee for supplies. About a week, maybe more.” Elijah dropped back into his chair, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. “So until he’s back…they’re yours.”

I set the notebook down slowly. My leg throbbed as if it knew what kind of work was coming. “Elijah, I came here for physical therapy, not to play cowboy babysitter.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?” His grin spread wide. “You can’t just sit in that brace and rot. This’ll keep you moving. Keep your head straight. I’ve got a few men ready to get to work with you. They know a little bit, but they’re not you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Were you always this good at conning your men, or am I just special?”

“Both,” he said without missing a beat.

“Gimme a few days to get settled?”

“The guys are handling the everyday maintenance stuff, so after you're settled, go on over and make yourself known.”

“Will do.” I nodded.

And damn it, I couldn’t help but laugh again—even as the weight of the responsibility settled in. Animals. Land. A ranch that wasn’t mine. Maybe this was what I needed. Or maybe it was the dumbest thing I’d ever agreed to.

Elijah leaned back, studying me with that squint he always got when he was digging for something. “So, what’s this I hear about a blind date?”

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Raya’s got a big mouth.”

“Hell yeah, she does.” His grin was unrepentant. “But don’t dodge it. A guy doesn’t limp onto my ranch after getting half blown up and then tell me he’s hosting some mystery woman without giving me details. Spill it.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It’s not just a date. It’s…a two-week thing.”

Elijah’s brows shot up. “Two weeks? That’s not a date, Hardison, that’s practically an arranged marriage.”

“Exactly,” I muttered. “That’s the point.”

He blinked, surprised by my honesty.

I set my beer down and leaned back. “The agency—Love Catered—matches people based on what they call ‘marriage potential.’ Not hookups. Not weekend flings. The whole deal is about finding someone to build a life with.”

“Marriage potential.” Elijah’s voice dripped with skepticism. “And you’re telling me they found yours?”

“That’s what they say.” I forced a laugh. “Her name’s Emberlynn. She’s supposed to be my perfect match. Two weeks gives us time to actually test that—get past the surface crap. We’ll spend Christmas together, see if she fits here, maybe even with you and Raya.”

Something softened in Elijah’s expression, though he tried to cover it by finishing his beer. “You’re really serious about this.”

I met his gaze. “I’m done wasting time. I want the real thing, Eli. A woman who sees past the scars and the brace. A partner. A future.”

The words hung heavy between us, more honest than I’d meant them to be.

Elijah nodded once, slowly and steadily. “Then here’s hoping they got it right, brother.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting myself breathe out. “Here’s hoping.”