Chapter Three
The sight of her punched Gabe low and hard.
He’d seen the look in soldiers trying to stand at attention with blood on their hands. It never stopped hitting him the same way.
Felicity St. James looked like she’d just walked through fire.
He remembered her from around the ranch. Honor’s sister, the one with the bookshop. He’d seen her at holidays, maybe at one of the bonfires. She was always smiling and soft-spoken, with gentle mannerisms that made rough men watch her in hope of being soothed by her.
The woman in front of him wasn’t any of those things. She was barely holding herself together, and it triggered something deep in his chest he didn’t bother naming.
She looked lost—shoulders tight, eyes unfocused. He’d seen people freeze like that before, after explosions, after loss. The body stuck in survival mode.
He stilled the way he would with a spooked horse, but every muscle in him was on alert.
He was just about to offer to walk her to the house when she started toward the door.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Willow round the corner of the barn. She seemed to read the situation in a heartbeat.
“Felicity,” she called out, her gaze darting to Gabe, and he gave her a solemn look in return.
“She’s here to see her sister,” he spoke up.
Willow closed the distance in a few long strides. She reached out to rest a hand on Felicity’s arm. The woman didn’t move. Yep, she was completely frozen.
“Hey,” Willow said softly. “Come on. Honor’s inside.”
She startled slightly, then looked at Willow like she’d just been thrown a lifeline. Willow gently guided her toward the porch, sending a look back over her shoulder at Gabe.
He watched them mount the steps and enter the house, the breeze stirring Felicity’s silky pale brown hair and tugging at the loose strands of Willow’s long, dark braid. Willow opened the door and ushered Felicity inside.
Gabe didn’t move because his mind was following her and wondering if he could have done anything different to help. Maybe he could have walked her through the steps used to ground a person—five things you can see, four you can feel, three you can hear, two you can smell and one you can taste.
The crunch of boots on gravel carried to him, and he half turned to see Carson approaching. He wore a light oilskin coat over his Black Heart T-shirt, and he had a long cardboard tube tucked beneath one arm.
“Hey. You free?”
Gabe scrubbed a knuckle under his nose. “You didn’t give me any tasks other than eating breakfast.”
He huffed a laugh, then twitched his head for Gabe to follow and took off toward the side entrance that led to the security office. As soon as they entered, the sounds of the house trickled down the hall. Women talking. The clank of someone in the kitchen. A baby’s cry.
Carson turned his head, listening. The cry cut off abruptly as if someone put a bottle in the baby’s mouth.
He’d never been in Carson’s office before. The rustic wood walls smelled of pine and a long leather sofa looked like the perfect place for an afternoon nap.
Carson moved to his big desk chair like a man with six thoughts running at once, half of them logistical, half personal.
“You settling in all right?” Carson asked once he sank to the chair.
Gabe hesitated to sit. In his world, you didn’t sit in front of an officer, and Carson was the closest thing he had to that these days.
He looked to the man, and Carson gave him a slow nod of assent.
He lowered himself to the seat and considered the question.
“Haven’t been here more than a few hours.
But I slept fine and checked on the horses.
Saw that friend you mentioned.” His lips quirked at the memory of Navy running on short, stiff legs into his arms.
A smile ghosted over Carson’s face, then vanished. “How do you feel?”
“I’m steady.” His voice came out with enough confidence to back that up.
“You sure?”
Gabe gave him the rundown of his last few months since leaving the Black Heart, how he worked at the garage, how he moved through the motions of living. He rubbed a fingertip along the edge of the desk. “But the only place I feel alive is here,” he concluded.
Silence pulsed between them.
“If you need to re-admit for a check, you do it. Doesn’t mean you’re backsliding. It means you’re smart enough to stay standing.”
He met Carson’s solid gaze. “I’m good. Not perfect, but functional.”
The women’s voices carried to them, and Gabe picked out Felicity’s.
He wanted to be useful around here. He wanted to prove that he was as steady as he claimed.
“I’m fine. Put me in, coach.”
Carson’s grin flickered. “You always did have a terrible sense of humor.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and huffed out a laugh. “I mean it.”
“Good, because I need the help. Willow’s my support right now, but some tasks she can’t do or is too busy with her horses.”
“I’m willing to do anything.”
“I need someone to man the phones, take calls for the security agency and take extensive notes. We can’t afford missed calls or bad information.”
“I’m a detail man.”
He dipped his head in a small nod before continuing. “I need someone to man the gate and see to deliveries. You know how tight we run security around here.”
“Tell me where to start.”
“I want you on the shooting range every day so you stay sharp. Even if it’s quiet now, we don’t get soft.” Carson’s stare stayed on his face, studying him for any cracks.
Some vets couldn’t touch a weapon after what they’d been through. Gabe wasn’t one of them.
“Copy that.”
He leaned back in his chair, rocking a little. “We have a lot going on around here. We’re breaking ground for Willow and Decker’s house.”
“Damn, that’s great.” He was so pleased for his friend.
“Plans are in the works to add on to the lodge too.”
He cocked a brow.
“Twenty more rooms will be added.”
“That’s really good news for the program.”
He twitched his jaw toward the window. “And we bought a piece of land.”
“More cattle?”
“Denver and Theo were approached by the Department of Defense. They asked them to be trainers for special forces. We counteroffered—we’re building the facility right here on the ranch.”
Gabe sat back in his chair. “Impressive. You Malones are solving half the country’s problems.”
That brought a flash of humor to Carson’s face. “We’re about to break ground as soon as the plans are finalized. Maybe you’ll ride out with me and look at the site later.”
“I’d love to.” Training men in the ways of war wasn’t light work in any sense of the word. So much planning, thought and skill had to go into shaping people to be the best they could be.
“Once the facility’s up and running, my team will be spread even thinner. We could use all the help we can get.”
“I’m your guy.”
The conversation shifted into the rhythm both men understood—work and logistics wrapped up in order. Carson outlined the calls that needed returning and the special deliveries that would need signed for.
Gabe took mental notes. It felt good to be useful again, part of something instead of drifting alongside it.
Soon he found himself set up in the office, getting a crash course on the phone system. He checked messages and returned some calls, then jotted notes in the old-school ledger Willow had already scribbled notes on.
Every so often, he caught himself pausing, listening to the sounds of the house.
Listening for Felicity’s voice.
The image of her standing frozen in the yard wouldn’t leave him. It was the look of someone whose world had gone sideways and they didn’t know how to fix it.
Whatever had her rattled was none of his business. But the sight of those big eyes bright with unshed tears made him want to take action.
What action, he didn’t know.
He forced his focus back to the task list.
He finished the morning calls, then grabbed a sidearm from the gun locker Carson showed him before he stepped out to see to business. Gabe made his way to the shooting range. The walk was far enough to help him clear his head, and when he reached the range, the familiar movements soothed him.
Checking the chamber, confirming the target, setting up his stance. Even the pull of air into his lungs and his finger perched on the trigger brought him into keen focus.
After he returned to the office, he accepted a delivery. By noon, the day settled into a rhythm he could get used to.
When Carson poked his head in the front office, Gabe looked up from the notes he made.
He gained his feet. “Ready for that look at the site?”
Carson shook his head. “Change of plans. Something came up.”
Gabe went still. Something.
He didn’t ask what. He had a feeling it involved the woman who’d shown up that morning with haunted eyes.
If he listened close enough, he could almost hear one heartbeat a little off-tempo from the rest, like Felicity St. James was still trying to find her balance.
He knew exactly how that felt.
* * * * *
Felicity sat at the big family table, fingers locked around a mug. Steam curled up in a fragrant wisp, and the room smelled like fresh toasted bread and coffee. On the Black Heart Ranch, coffee flowed the way streams trickled down the mountain.
Honor touched her shoulder, just a small brush that reminded Felicity she wasn’t alone. “If you’d like coffee instead of tea, I’ll get it for you.”
“No. I love chamomile.” Besides, the blend was supposed to bring calm, and if anyone needed that, it was Felicity.
Willow’s cowgirl boots tapped on the floor as she crossed the kitchen. She set a plate in front of Felicity.
She eyed the two triangles of toast and little pot of honey. Comfort food she couldn’t bring herself to eat.
“Eat what you can.” Concern pooled in Willow’s deep gray eyes that all the Malones shared.
Felicity nodded. The first sip of tea burned away the lump of salty tears she couldn’t clear and settled warm behind her breastbone. The ranch house was both homey and extravagant, with new and old, modern and rustic all blended into the perfect refuge for the growing family.