Chapter 11 Nick
Nick
Iwoke to darkness and the sound of Dante’s labored breathing. Panic shot through me as I sat up, my hand instinctively reaching for him.
“Dante? You okay?”
“Fine,” he gasped, but his voice was tight with pain. “Just... need to shift position. Ribs are killing me.”
I fumbled for the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light. His face was pale, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The medication must’ve worn off.
“When did you last take your pills?”
“Before I fell asleep. What time is it?”
I glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. I’d slept for hours, and from the looks of it, so had he. “Time for another dose. Don’t move.”
I slid off the bed, my own body protesting the movement. My shoulder had stiffened up while I slept, and I had to bite back a groan as I headed for the kitchen. The tiny house was dark except for the light spilling from the bedroom, casting long shadows across the floor.
I grabbed his medication and a fresh glass of water, my mind still foggy with sleep. When I returned, Dante had managed to prop himself up slightly against the pillows, though the effort had clearly cost him.
“Here.” I handed him the pills and watched as he swallowed them. “You need to eat something too. The meds work better with food.”
“Not hungry.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Doctor’s orders.” I headed back to the kitchen before he could argue. There wasn’t much in the fridge. We’d been meaning to go shopping before the accident happened. But I found some bread, cheese, and the leftover roast beef from two nights ago.
I threw together a sandwich, my hands moving on autopilot while my brain tried to catch up with reality. I’d fallen asleep in Dante’s bed. Holding his hand. And instead of feeling horrified or ashamed, I just felt... settled. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
What the hell was happening to me?
I brought the sandwich back to the bedroom, along with some water. Dante eyed it skeptically.
“I’m really not—”
“Eat it or I’m calling the hospital and telling them you’re not following medical advice.”
His lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile. “You’re bossy when you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Liar.” But he took the sandwich, managing a few bites before setting it aside. “Happy now?”
“Thrilled.” I sat back down in the chair, suddenly aware of the awkwardness between us. The intimacy of a few hours ago had evaporated, leaving behind the uncomfortable reality of what we were. “You should try to sleep some more. The medication will kick in soon.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll stay until you’re out, then I need to check on a few things outside.”
“Nick.” His hand reached out, hovering in the space between us. “You don’t have to keep doing this. I know you have your own shit to deal with.”
I stared at his outstretched hand, at the silent invitation. I could pull away now, rebuild those walls, go back to the careful distance we’d maintained. It would be smart. Safe.
Instead, I took his hand for some fucking reason. Maybe just to keep him complacent, I told myself.
“Get some rest, Dante.”
His eyes held mine for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in their dark depths. Then he gave my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“You’re a good man, Nick Wesley,” he murmured, his eyelids already growing heavy as the medication started to work its magic.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The words lodged somewhere in my throat, tangled up with all the confusion and complicated feelings I didn’t want to examine too closely.
Within minutes, his breathing evened out again, and I knew he was asleep.
When had this happened? When had we gone from bitter enemies to... whatever this was?
I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me again. The chair was uncomfortable as hell, and my back was already protesting. I glanced at the empty space beside Dante on the bed, remembering the warmth of lying next to him earlier.
No. That was a one-time thing. He’d been scared and medicated, and I’d been weak. It couldn’t happen again.
I forced myself to stand, my joints popping in protest. The medication should keep him out for at least six hours. That gave me plenty of time to check the property, make sure Angelo hadn’t burned anything down, and maybe grab a shower.
I turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver shadows across Dante’s sleeping form. I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
Then I made myself leave before I did something stupid like climb back into that bed.
The night air hit me like a brick when I stepped outside, cold and sharp with the threat of frost not far off. I pulled my jacket tighter and headed toward the barn, my boots crunching on gravel. The ranch was quiet except for the occasional lowing of cattle and the distant sound of the river.
Everything looked normal. The cattle were settled in the near pasture, dark shapes against darker grass. The barn was secure, the horses quiet in their stalls. Buck nickered when he heard me, pushing his nose over the stall door.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, running my hand down his face. His solid warmth was comforting, familiar. This I understood. This made sense.
Not like whatever was happening with Dante.
I checked the water troughs, made sure the feed was properly stored, did all the mindless tasks that usually helped me think. But tonight, my brain felt like it was moving through molasses, sluggish and confused.
I’d started toward the main house, intent on rousing Angelo, but thought better of it.
It was the middle of the night and he, no doubt, had an early morning.
For now, he could sleep. But as I turned to head back to the tiny house, I caught a figure leaning against the pasture fence, staring up at the endless stars that littered the sky.
As I approached, it turned to face me, and I caught the familiar swish of a ponytail.
It was Heather.
“Nick?” she said, her eyes widening. “Nick!”
She rushed me, throwing her arms around me as she squeezed hard. I grimaced, making a few pained sounds. She let go of me immediately.
“Oh my god, Nick… I was so worried! I heard about the heifer and you getting thrown! Are you alright?”
“I’m… fine,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “Just bruised all to hell. Dante’s got three fractured ribs.”
“That’s too bad,” she shot back immediately, a scowl filling her face. “Too bad that heifer didn’t stomp him to death. I just wish it was me that had done it.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I took a step back, staring at my sister like I’d never seen her before. She had always been sweetness from head to toe. But the woman in front of me was… well, pissed.
“Do you really mean that, Heather?”
“What?” She crossed her arms, her jaw set in that stubborn way that reminded me of our father. “You want me to pretend I care about that mobster? He bought you, Nick. He ruined your life.”
“He saved my life,” I shot back, the words coming out harsher than I’d intended. “That heifer would’ve trampled me if he hadn’t gotten in the way.”
“So what? Maybe you’d have been better off.”
The words hung between us in the cold night air, ugly and raw. I felt something hot and angry rise in my chest.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” Her eyes were shining now, tears or fury, I couldn’t tell.
“You think I don’t know what’s happening to you?
You think I don’t understand what guys like him do with their property?
” She stepped close, her hands on my shoulders.
“Is he…” She swallowed hard. “Is he forcing himself on you, Nick?”
I jerked back from her touch, anger flaring hot in my gut. “What? No. Jesus, Heather, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” She wiped at her eyes, her voice cracking. “Because from where I’m standing, my brother sold himself to save me, and now he’s playing house with some criminal who—”
“He’s not forcing me to do anything,” I interrupted, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. The words echoed across the empty pasture, and I forced myself to lower my volume. “We haven’t... we’re not...” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
How the hell was I supposed to explain this?
That I’d started the marriage hating him, terrified of him, but now I was lying in his bed holding his hand?
That when I’d seen him go down under that heifer, something in my chest had cracked open?
That I was starting to feel things I had no business feeling?
“He’s not what I expected,” I said finally. “He’s actually trying, Heather. Learning the ranch, doing the work. And when that cow charged...” I trailed off, remembering the look in his eyes right before impact. No hesitation. No calculation. Just pure instinct to protect me.
“So what? He did one decent thing and now you’re defending him?” She shook her head, disbelief written across her face. “Nick, this is Stockholm Syndrome or something. He trapped you in this situation, and now you’re—”
“I’m what?” The anger was back, sharp and defensive. “Grateful that someone actually gave enough of a damn about me to risk their life? Yeah, maybe I am.”
Heather flinched like I’d slapped her. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” The words were pouring out now, weeks of pent-up frustration finally finding a target.
“You were ready to sacrifice yourself for this family. You were going to marry him, have his kids, give up your whole life. But the second it was me instead, you were relieved. Don’t think I didn’t see it on your face at the courthouse. ”
“That’s not—I didn’t want either of us to have to—”
“But you’re glad it wasn’t you.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping. “And you know what? I’m glad it wasn’t you too. Because at least I can handle this. At least I’m strong enough to—”
“To what? Fix him? Make him a better person? Give up his life of crime?” Her eyes were blazing now, tears forgotten. “That’s pathetic, Nick. And you know it.”
“What the fuck do you know about it?!” I cried, rage bubbling over.
“Were you the one that had to take over all the ranch duties when all our help was fired? Were you the one that had to drive cattle with Dad in blizzards and thunderstorms, and God knows what else? No! Because you’re the baby of the family and our parents have always treated you with kid gloves. ”
“That’s not fair and you know it, Nicholas,” she barked. “I had to work too. I helped on the ranch just like you did.”
“By the time you started helping, we were already fucked,” I shot back.
“I’ve been doing a full day’s work since I was twelve years old.
You’ve been helping out since you dropped out of college.
” I took a step closer, my voice rough with anger.
“I’ve always been the sacrifice, the one that has to give up everything for this place.
So why should this time be any fucking different? ”
Heather’s face crumpled, and I instantly regretted the words. But I couldn’t take them back. They hung between us like poison.
“You think I don’t know that?” she whispered.
“You think I don’t carry that guilt every single day?
That it should’ve been me helping out around here?
Me in that courthouse? Me in that bed with him?
” Her voice broke. “I would’ve done it, Nick.
I was ready to do it. But you stepped in before I could even—”
“Because you’re my baby sister.” My anger was deflating, leaving behind something hollow and tired. “Because protecting you is what I do. What I’ve always done.”
“And who protects you?” The question came out soft, almost broken. “Who takes care of Nick?”
I thought about Dante’s hand in mine. The way he’d thrown himself between me and that heifer without hesitation. The concern in his eyes when he asked if I was okay, even as he lay there with fractured ribs.
“Maybe he does,” I said quietly. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Heather stared at me for a long moment, her expression cycling through disbelief, hurt, and something that might’ve been understanding. Then she shook her head.
“Nick… are you… are you serious?”
“I don’t know,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “But he saved me from that cow when he could’ve easily let me die and kept the ranch. What else am I supposed to think?”
“Do you care about him now?”
I couldn’t bring myself to even look at her, much less answer.
“Because that’s what’s happening, isn’t it? You’re actually starting to care about him.”
The accusation hit too close to home. I opened my mouth to deny it, to tell her she was crazy, but the words wouldn’t come. Because maybe she was right. Maybe I was falling for him, as fucked up as that was.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” I said quietly. “This is my life now. This is the choice I made.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“Neither did you. Neither did Mom or Dad. We’re all just trying to survive the mess Dad made.” I softened my voice, seeing the hurt on her face. “I’m okay, Heather. I promise. He’s not hurting me. You have my word.”
“But he could.” She reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. “That’s what scares me, Nick. Men like him, families like his… They destroy people. And I can’t lose you.”
My gut twisted painfully, and I pulled her into a hug, ignoring the protest from my shoulder. She clung to me like she used to when we were kids and thunderstorms would roll through the valley.
“You’re not going to lose me,” I murmured into her hair. “I’m right here. Same ranch, same valley. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” she whispered back.
She wasn’t wrong. Everything had changed.
The ranch, my life, my marriage, and most terrifying of all, my feelings.
But I couldn’t tell her that. Couldn’t admit that when Dante had asked me to stay, something in me had wanted to.
That holding his hand had felt right in a way nothing else had in weeks.
“We’re gonna be okay,” I said at last. “I promise.”
And I almost believed it.