Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LOLA
My whole body aches. From my head down to my toes, every muscle is screaming like I’ve been hit by a truck instead of a man.
I blink my eyes open. Natural light is starting to bleed through the curtains, warming the room in soft gold. And next to me, Hunter’s place in bed is empty.
I run my hand across the sheets. They’re still warm.
Dragging myself upright takes more effort than it should. I have to peel myself vertical one vertebra at a time, every muscle locked so tight it feels like my body has been set in concrete overnight. My hip screams when I swing my legs over the side. My wrist throbs when I push myself to standing.
I make my way to the full-length mirror in the corner and run my fingers through my hair with my good hand. It’s a mess. But Hunter’s T-shirt actually looks okay on me. Hangs like a dress, almost to my knees, respectable enough.
I need my real clothes. Desperately. But this will do for now.
Once I’m satisfied I don’t look like a complete disaster, I venture downstairs. I can hear men’s voices drifting up from the kitchen, one of them laughing at something. The smell of bacon and coffee hits me on the landing, and my stomach growls so loud I’m surprised no one hears it.
I stop in the kitchen doorway and watch them.
Hunter is at the stove, spatula in hand, looking hot as hell.
Two of his brothers are at the counter. Not the one I met last night, Beau.
No, this is the one who was playing with Wyatt at the party.
The tatted big kid who launched himself onto the bounce house like a man with zero regard for his own dignity.
And the other one, I’m not sure I’ve seen before.
Hunter swings the spatula and cracks the tatted one around the back of the head with it.
“Lola!”
Wyatt’s voice explodes behind me, and I nearly leave my skin. I spin around, hand flying to my chest, and find him grinning up at me in full ranch gear—little jeans, little boots, hat hanging off the back of his neck by the cord.
Every set of eyes in the kitchen turns to me. But Hunters are the only ones I see. His lips curve into a grin that starts slow and spreads across his whole face.
“Morning,” I say to the room, then turn back to Wyatt.
He looks better today. His eyes aren’t so red. He’s not so hollow. Kids are resilient in a way that humbles me; they bend where adults would break. And he has a good family around him. A loud, chaotic, spatula-wielding family that fills every corner of this house with noise and warmth.
He’s going to be just fine.
“Hey, you,” I whisper.
“Daddy said I can take you to meet Gary today!” He’s vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his boots.
I smile. “Oh, did he now?” I say, turning to Hunter.
But he’s no longer at the stove. He’s right beside me. Close enough that I can smell the coffee on him and the cedar underneath it. He’s holding out a mug to me.
I look up at him, and my breath catches. Thank you, I mouth.
I don’t know how to behave. I don’t know what his family really knows about me. Do they think I’m the woman their brother dragged home in the middle of the night like a stray he refused to leave on the road?
Hunter makes the decision for me. He leans in and presses his lips against mine. Right there. In front of all of them. “Mornin’, firefly,” he says.
His hand rests on my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. And then his lips move to my ear. “You wearin’ that in front of my brothers is dangerous, Lola.”
My eyes go wide, and he chuckles. “Not because of them. They’ll show you nothin’ but respect.” His breath is warm against my skin. “But me? I’m about to drag you out to the barn and tie you up.”
I am on fire. From my throat to my toes. I want that. Maybe when my body hurts less, but even then, I think I’d still want it with the pain.
“Enough of this. You have bacon to cook.” The more tatted one shoves the spatula between us like a referee breaking up a fight, physically separating us with a grin so wide it takes up half his face.
Hunter mutters something under his breath that I don’t quite catch, but it makes his brother bark out a laugh.
“I’m Ace. The youngest brother.” He gives me a bright, unapologetic grin. The kind that says I am going to be a problem and you’re going to love me for it.
“Nice to meet you,” I smile back.
Ace looks at me. Not in a horrible way. Not like he’s studying me or sizing me up. More like he’s seeing something he recognizes. And then he looks at Hunter.
I follow his gaze. But I stop on Hunter’s hands. The cuts across his knuckles. The bruising along his fingers. Skin split in places that have nothing to do with ranch work.
I step forward and grab his hand and hold it up between us. Hunter watches me. But he doesn’t pull away or try to hide this side of himself from me.
“Does his face look bad?” I ask.
“Yep. Really fuckin’ bad.” He doesn’t blink. “And his house. And his hand.”
Ace chuckles behind us.
“Thank you, Hunter,” I tell him. And I mean it. Honestly, deeply mean it. Because knowing that Reese felt even a fraction of what I felt last night makes something inside me unclench for the first time since his fist connected with my world.
I lift his battered hand to my lips and press a kiss against his split knuckles. Wyatt appears by my side and nudges me. As I look down, he’s holding out a Band-Aid with a dinosaur on it with a huge smile on his face.
“Put this on daddy, he needs it.”
I take it from him. “Okay, buddy. I’ll look after your daddy.”
“Dad always told us a woman would tame us,” Ace says beside us, nudging his brother. “Not her. She’s going to send him wild.”
“That ain’t a bad thing,” the other one replies.
Hunter laughs, and it warms me. “No. When it comes to my girl, I’ll rip this town to pieces if I have to.”
I glance at his brothers. They’re both smiling. Just two men watching their brother fall and being quietly, completely fine with where he lands.
“Daddy! I wanna get Gary!” Wyatt shouts from somewhere behind us.
Hunter grins. “Bacon first.”
Wyatt lets out a huff so dramatic it could win an Oscar and stomps into the dining room.
“I’ll go sit with him,” I say.
I go up on my tiptoes, place a soft kiss on Hunter’s lips, and feel his hand brush the small of my back as I pull away.
I settle into the chair opposite Wyatt. He’s already telling me about Gary. How Gary likes apples but not carrots, how Gary once ate a whole shoe, how Gary sleeps standing up sometimes, and it’s really funny.
I listen to every word. Rest my chin on my good hand and let this little boy talk my ear off about his goat while his father cooks breakfast and his uncles bicker over the last of the coffee.
Plates start appearing. Hunter brings the bacon and eggs to the table. Ace carries a stack of pancakes so tall it looks structurally unsound. The broader brother—the one I haven’t got a name for yet—sets a fresh pot of coffee in the middle and then turns to me.
He extends his hand. “Colten,” he says. “We didn’t get a proper introduction last night.”
I shake his hand with my good one. “Lola. Sorry for the chaos.”
“Chaos is pretty standard around here.” He gives me something that’s almost a smile. Warmer than Beau’s. More direct. “You want a top-up?” He nods at my coffee.
“Please.”
He pours without another word, then drops into his seat.
Beau drifts in last. Longer hair up in a bun, quieter than the others. I don’t think I’ve seen a cowboy man bun before. He gives me a nod as he passes, the same measured politeness from last night. He’s hard to read. “Morning,” he says to the room. To nobody in particular.
Hunter takes his place at the head of the table. Wyatt on his left. Me on his right. His brothers filling in the rest. It’s loud and messy, and someone has already spilled orange juice, and Ace is eating pancakes with his bare hands, and it’s the most at home I’ve felt in years.
Hunter reaches under the table and squeezes my knee. I put my hand on top of his.
He eats fast, the way men do when they’ve been waking before dawn their whole lives. Then he sets his fork down and looks at his brothers. “Right. Here’s the plan.”
The table goes quiet. Even Ace stops chewing. “Me, Lola, Ace, and Colten are heading into town this morning to pack up her apartment. We’re moving her and Violet’s stuff back here. Two trucks. Should be one trip if we’re smart about it.”
Colten nods.
“Beau, you’re with Wyatt today. Stables. Keep him busy, keep him happy.”
Beau glances at Wyatt, who is currently drowning a pancake in syrup. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“And after the move, we’ve got work to do. I’m calling Enzo this morning to get Drago on the case. Ace, I need you on those security feeds. Colten, keep digging through the paperwork. We’ve got ninety days, and I’m not wasting a single one.”
The brothers nod. No arguments. No questions. The machine clicks into gear.
Wyatt looks up from his syrup lake. “Is Lola staying forever?” he asks Hunter.
The table goes still.
Hunter looks at me. A slow smile spreads across his face. “That’s the plan, bud.”
Wyatt grins and goes back to his pancake. Like that’s the most normal sentence in the world.
Maybe here, it is.
My heart almost bursts as I lace my fingers through Hunter’s. To some, this is too fast. To me? I just know my heart lies here with this man.
I think that’s the truest form of love. The one that just hits you round the head. The one you can’t walk away from after one night in the back of a truck. This is the kind of love that feels as though you’ve found home in another person.
That is what I feel next to Hunter. And that other part of my heart, I think that’s reserved for the little boy opposite.
I may not be his mom, nor anywhere close. But I know, I’d protect him with my life. Just like everyone around this table would.