Chapter 19 Delaney
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Delaney
By Saturday, Caleb’s fever finally breaks.
I’m in his doorway with fresh sheets over my arm when I hear him groan and shift.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say.
He squints at the light bleeding around the curtains. “Is it?”
“Technically. It’s almost eleven.”
His eyes widen. “I slept that long?”
“You’ve been out of it for days.” I lean against the doorframe. “I think you and the pillow are legally married now.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, wincing when his scruff rasps against his palm. “I feel like I got trampled.”
“You kind of did. By the flu. And your terrible life choices.”
“Which ones?” he mutters. “Not telling anyone I was sick or working through it until I face planted in the barn?”
“Yes.”
He slants me a look that says he wants to argue but doesn’t have the energy. “You been… taking care of me?”
I shrug, suddenly shy. “You’ve kept half the horses on this ranch breathing with nothing but stubbornness and a weird amount of empathy, Caleb. The least I can do is make you soup.”
His throat works. “Thank you.”
“Don’t make it weird,” I say, because if I let the sincerity hang too long, I might melt into the floor.
“Too late,” he says, but he’s smiling.
I clear my throat. “I brought clean sheets. Once you’ve showered, I’ll strip the bed, and we’ll start fresh.”
“Do I smell that bad?” he asks dryly.
“Yes.”
He snorts.
“I’m kidding,” I say. “You just… smell sick.”
“Very flattering.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sadie barrels in before I can embarrass myself further, her hair in messy braids, wearing a T-shirt that says “Future President of the Barn.”
“Uncle Caleb!” she squeals, launching herself at his knees.
He oofs but braces for impact, hand automatically finding the back of her head. “Careful there, kiddo. I’m fragile.”
“You’re better,” she says, squinting up at him. “Your eyes are less droopy.”
“Good medical assessment,” he says solemnly.
“Miss Delaney said if you drank your tea and soup, you’d get better.” She looks at me with the kind of absolute faith that makes my knees wobble. “And you did!”
“Well, then,” Caleb says, eyes flicking to mine briefly. “Guess I should listen to Miss Delaney more often.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
“Obviously,” Sadie says. “She’s the boss of the kitchen.”
“And apparently my immune system,” Caleb murmurs.
I refuse to read into that.
“Okay, you.” I ruffle Sadie’s hair lightly. “Out. Let Caleb shower so we can degerm this room. I’ll make pancakes to celebrate his return to the land of the living.”
“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes going round.
“Is there another kind?”
She gasps. “Can I help?”
“Only if you promise not to eat all the chips before they hit the batter.”
“I can’t promise that,” she says gravely.
“At least you’re honest.”
By late afternoon, Caleb is back in bed with strict orders to nap, Sadie is in the living room creating a zoo out of Legos, and I’m leaning against the kitchen counter staring at my phone.
A new notification lights up the screen.
Sloane: Girls’ night at The Hollow tonight. You in?
I chew on my bottom lip.
I should say no.
There’s laundry to rotate. A menu to plan for next week. A dozen small tasks I could use as excuses to stay home and not risk being seen, or… noticed.
But the truth is, I’m tired.
Not just physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.
My days have shrunk down to the ranch and the kitchen and the men and Sadie and a tight coil of feelings I don’t let myself look at directly.
The thought of a few hours with the girls, loud, messy, glitter-covered, sounds like oxygen.
Delaney: Tempting. Who’s going?
Sloane: Me, Ivy, Olivia. Maybe Lani, if we bribe her with fries. And you.
Sloane: Yes, I said you. Don’t make me send Roman to ask in person. He’ll bring a guitar, and you know it.
A laugh bubbles up my throat.
Delaney: Low blow. What time?
Sloane: 8. Dress code: hot enough to make at least one man walk into a wall
My heart squeezes.
I stare at the message for a long moment.
Do I want to feel hot?
Marcus made my body feel like a tool. A thing to be hidden or weaponized, depending on what the situation demanded.
Coyote Glen is different.
Smaller. Sharper. Gossip travels faster than light.
But I’m tired of making myself small to preempt judgment.
Delaney: Okay, I’m in!
Sloane: YESSSSSS. Get ready to be aggressively hyped up.
I roll my eyes, but my lips are smiling.
“Everything okay?”
Boone pulls my gaze up.
He’s in the doorway from the mudroom, hair damp from a quick rinse, a clean gray Henley stretched across his chest, jeans hanging low on his hips. He looks tired in the way only ranch owners look, like sleep is something that happens to other people, but his eyes are clear.
And currently on me.
“Uh.” I hold up my phone. “Sloane wants to drag me to The Hollow tonight.”
His brows lift. “Yeah?”
“Girl’s night,” I clarify, as if that makes it less loaded.
He nods slowly, cataloging variables. “Sounds fun.”
“I should go?”
I already said yes, but part of me still needs to hear it’s okay.
“You’ve been taking care of all of us,” he says. “You deserve a break.”
The earnestness in his voice turns my knees to pudding.
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I just wanted to make sure it’s okay. With Sadie and dinner and…”
“Delaney.” His tone is gentle but firm. “You’re allowed to have a life.”
“I know,” I say. The words feel flimsy.
“I’ll get Sadie fed,” he continues. “Silas can read bedtime stories. Caleb needs to rest anyway. We’ll survive one night without you.”
My chest tightens at the idea of them fending for themselves, eating something beige and frozen.
“Okay,” I say. “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” he says. His gaze lingers. “You have fun.”
Heat prickles the back of my neck. “I’ll try.”
His mouth curves, just a little. “I’ll, uh. Let you get ready.”
He pushes away from the doorframe and disappears down the hall, leaving me with my phone, my racing heart, and the sudden realization that I have no idea what to wear.
I head to my room and look at my closet. My clothes are… practical.
Jeans. Leggings. Soft sweaters. T-shirts with various food puns.
The one nice dress I brought to Coyote Glen hangs in the back like it’s hiding. It’s a deep, forest-green wrap dress with flutter sleeves and a V-neck that shows just enough without needing constant adjustment. I bought it on sale for some event on tour that I never ended up attending.
I pull it out and hold it up in front of the mirror.
It’s… pretty.
Intimidatingly pretty.
“Miss Delaney?”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
Sadie is in the doorway, clutching a teddy by its collar.
“Hey,” I say, heart still racing. “What’s up?”
“Daddy said you’re going out with your friends,” she says, eyes wide with excitement. “Are you going to a fancy party?”
“Not quite,” I say, holding the dress in front of me. “Just The Hollow.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re gonna wear that there?”
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
She shakes her head vigorously, braids slapping her cheeks. “No. It’s like a princess dress, but cooler. Like a princess who can also sword fight and bake cookies.”
I laugh. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
She bounces closer. “Can I pick your earrings?”
“Absolutely.”
I change quickly, the fabric sliding over my skin like water. The dress hits just above my knees, showing a slice of thigh above my boots. I swirl once in front of the mirror. The skirt moves in a soft arc.
Okay.
I look… like someone I remember. Someone who isn’t just flour and worry and old hurt.
Sadie digs through my small jewelry box with laser focus.
“These,” she declares, holding up a pair of gold hoop earrings. “They’re shiny.”
“Excellent reasoning,” I say, taking them. “Approved.”
She flops onto my bed while I do my makeup. Nothing fancy, just a little concealer, mascara, a swipe of bronzer, and a berry-tinted gloss. Enough to make me feel polished, not masked.
I pin my hair up and quickly curl a few pieces around my face for softness.
When I’m done, I take a final look in the mirror.
I look… good.
Healthy, despite the shadows the last year tried to carve into me. Strong. My curves fill the dress, the green making my eyes look more hazel than brown. My collarbones peek where the neckline dips.
I suck in a steadying breath.
You don’t have to be invisible to be safe.
“Ready?” I ask.
Sadie beams. “Ready!”
We troop down the hallway together, Sadie leading the way like a tiny herald.
“Ta da!” she announces as we step into the living room. “Look at Miss Delaney!”
Three heads turn.
I suddenly become very aware of my legs.
Caleb is on the couch with a blanket over his lap and a mug of tea in his hands, hair still damp from his afternoon shower. His eyes land on me and go wide, pupils dark. The mug lowers slowly.
“Wow,” he says. “You, uh… clean up okay.”
Warmth shoots straight through me.
“Thanks,” I say lightly, trying to calm my hands. “You look very… non-feverish.”
“High praise,” he murmurs.
Silas is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, flipping a coaster between his fingers. His grin when he sees me is immediate and bright.
“Holy hell, honeybee,” he drawls. “You trying to give this town a collective heart attack?”
His gaze travels from my boots up the length of my legs, lingering for a beat at the hem of the dress, then higher. I feel every inch of it like a physical touch. He raises his brows, clearly impressed.
“Don’t objectify her,” Caleb mutters.
“I am appreciating, not objectifying,” Silas says. “It’s a celebration.”
“Use your inside eyes,” Caleb replies.
“I don’t have those.”
I laugh, nerves loosening a little.
“Wow, you’re all very subtle,” I say as I roll my eyes.
Boone is standing by the kitchen counter with a dish towel in his hand, mid-dry. The towel is forgotten, hanging limp. His gaze is locked on me.