Chapter 27
Connor
Three days.
That’s how long it had been since I’d been put in handcuffs on the McGrath Ranch. Three days since I was driven back to Montana State Prison. Three days since I’d been placed back in a cell, the last place I ever wanted to be again.
And all I could think of was Ryder and the fact that I never got to say goodbye to him.
I tried to sleep but couldn’t. The concrete slab they called a bed was somehow harder than I remembered, and the fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed endlessly, flickering just enough to drive me crazy.
My cellmate snored loudly on the bunk below me, unbothered by any of it.
He was used to it. I had been too, once.
It was funny how quickly seven years of prison routine came flooding back.
The specific way to fold your uniform to avoid wrinkles.
The exact tone to use when speaking to the guards—respectful but not eager.
The careful dance of the yard, knowing where to walk, who to nod at, who to avoid completely.
I hadn’t eaten since I arrived either. I couldn’t stomach the thought of it. The trays came and went untouched, earning me suspicious glances from the guards. They thought I was planning something. A hunger strike, maybe, or worse. But I wasn’t planning anything. I was just... empty.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryder’s face. The way he’d looked at me in the church before everything went to hell. The softness in his eyes when he’d told me he loved me. God, I’d waited so long to hear those words from someone who meant them. And now I’d never see him again.
Pete had made sure of that.
The rage that bubbled up whenever I thought of Pete McGrath was the only thing keeping me going. The man had played me perfectly. Waited until he had me isolated, planted the evidence, and dropped the hammer. Classic setup, and I’d walked right into it like an amateur.
“Martin!” A guard’s voice echoed through the cellblock. “Visitor!”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. I hadn’t put anyone on my visitation list yet. Hadn’t even thought about it.
“Move it, Martin. I don’t have all day.”
I climbed down from my bunk, my body stiff from lying motionless for so long.
The guard cuffed me with practiced efficiency, the metal cold and familiar against my wrists.
As he led me through the corridors, my mind raced.
Who would visit me? Then I remembered. I hadn’t seen Ms. Randall since I was brought in.
She was probably coming to tell me what my new sentence was for breaking parole. Just standard practice.
The visitation room was nearly empty, just a few inmates at tables with their loved ones.
The guard directed me to a private holding room at the far end.
It definitely wasn’t a visit from anyone who cared about me.
They only used the private rooms for meetings with lawyers and parole officers.
All my hopes slipped away. I really was staying here.
Probably forever if Pete had his way about it.
The guard opened the door to the private room and ushered me inside. I expected to see Ms. Randall sitting there with a stack of papers, ready to tell me how many more years I’d be spending behind bars. Instead, I froze in the doorway, unable to believe my eyes.
Ryder.
He sat at the small metal table, his hands folded in front of him, strawberry blond hair slightly disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
When he looked up and saw me, his face transformed.
I could see the relief, the joy, and the pain all mingling together.
And, right beside him was Ms. Randall, a determined expression in her eyes.
“Connor,” he breathed, standing up so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Part of me wondered if I’d finally lost my mind, if this was some hallucination born from three days of not eating or sleeping.
“Thank you, officer,” Ms. Randall said. “I’ll take it from here.”
The guard, to my surprise, unlatched my handcuffs.
As soon as my hands were free, he gave Ms. Randall a nod and left the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, none of us moved.
I stared at Ryder, unable to believe he was really there.
Three days of despair suddenly shattered by his presence.
“You’re here,” I finally managed, my voice rough from disuse.
Before I could say anything else, Ryder crossed the room in three quick strides and threw his arms around me. The impact nearly knocked me off balance, but I caught him, my arms wrapping around his waist automatically. He buried his face in my neck, and I felt the wetness of tears against my skin.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “When Cole told me what happened—”
I pulled him tighter against me, breathing in his scent, the one I’d come to love so much. My chest ached with a mixture of joy and pain. I hadn’t let myself hope for this moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured into his hair. “Your father—”
“Is a monster,” Ryder finished, pulling back just enough to look at me. His green eyes were red-rimmed but fierce. “And he’s going to pay for this.”
Ms. Randall cleared her throat, reminding us of her presence. I reluctantly loosened my hold on Ryder, though I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. After three days of nothing but cold concrete and steel bars, the warmth of him under my hands felt like salvation.
“I’m not sure what you did in Hell Creek, Connor,” Randall began. “But whatever it was, you’ve got a lot of people on your side.”
“Will that help my case?” I asked, not ready to hope just yet. “Or am I stuck here for good? Just give it to me straight. I can’t take any more surprises.”
“It’s a difficult situation,” she began and my heart sank.
“I’ve been sitting in the judge’s office for three days trying to figure this all out.
” She lifted her gaze, looking over the pair of us.
“And I fully expect a gift basket or something for Christmas this year for all the work I’ve been doing. ”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re free Connor. No parole, no trial, no tricks. Just free.”
My whole world stopped spinning in an instant and my knees went weak. If not for Ryder’s arms around my waist, I might’ve hit the floor.
“What?” I couldn’t process the words. Free? No parole? It didn’t make sense. “How is that possible?”
“Your case has been reviewed, and all charges have been dropped,” Ms. Randall explained, sliding a folder across the table.
“Pete McGrath’s credibility has been completely destroyed.
We have over fifty witness statements from the church incident, including Pastor John and Evelyn, testifying to his threats against you.
Larry’s statement about the assault was particularly damning, especially considering the bruise on his face. ”
I stared at her in disbelief, my hands still gripping Ryder like he might disappear if I let go.
“But the gun—”
“Was obviously planted,” she finished for me.
“Once we started looking into it, the evidence fell apart. The sheriff found Pete’s fingerprints all over it, not yours.
And the supposed break-in tools? They matched a set in Pete’s personal workshop that nobody had access to, down to the distinctive wear patterns. ”
“My father made a critical mistake,” Ryder said, his voice steadier now though he still hadn’t let go of me.
“He was so drunk when he set you up that he didn’t cover his tracks properly.
And when the sheriff started questioning the ranch hands about the gun, Joey told them you’d never left their sight that morning. You were all together the entire time.”
I felt dizzy with the implications. “So, I’m just... free? Just like that?”
Ms. Randall’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Not ‘just like that.’ It took a lot of work and a lot of people standing up for you. I’ve never seen a small town rally around a parolee before. It was... unexpected.”
“The whole town?” I asked, stunned.
Ryder nodded against my chest. “After what my father did at the church, word spread fast. By morning, everyone knew he’d assaulted Larry and threatened you.
Then when you were arrested...” He paused, swallowing hard.
“Evelyn organized half the town to call the sheriff’s office.
Pastor John wrote a character witness statement.
Even Mrs. Henderson from the church dinner testified that my father was clearly drunk and making threats. ”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. These people barely knew me, yet they’d fought for me. After seven years of being seen as nothing but a criminal, the idea that an entire town would stand up for me was almost too much to comprehend.
“What about your father?” I asked, suddenly concerned. “What happened to him?”
Ryder’s expression darkened. “He’s facing charges for assault, filing a false police report, and tampering with evidence. They’re also investigating his treatment of parolees. Turns out Larry kept detailed records of everything for years, just in case.”
“Smart man,” I murmured, remembering Larry taking that punch meant for me. I owed him more than I could ever repay.
Ms. Randall stood up, gathering her papers. “The paperwork is processed. You’re officially a free man, Connor.” She walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Would you two like a minute?”
I nodded, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
She smiled, a genuine expression that reached her eyes. “You’re welcome. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Ryder and me alone. For a moment, we just stared at each other, neither of us quite believing what was happening.