Chapter 8
Ella
My throat was parched. I slipped out of bed, pulled on my robe, and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. A soft glow spilled from the living room, and I paused, remembering Jake was still here, keeping watch.
I peeked around the corner. He sat on the edge of the couch, his back to me, head bowed over something in his hands. His rifle leaned against the coffee table within easy reach. The single lamp cast his shadow long across the floor.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked softly.
He startled slightly, turning to face me. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough with fatigue. “Just checking the security feed.”
I moved closer and saw he was holding his phone, scrolling through camera footage. “Anything?”
“All quiet.” He set the phone down and rubbed his eyes. “You should be resting.”
“So should you.” I sat beside him, leaving a careful space between us. “You can’t stay awake forever.”
“Watch me try,” he muttered, and despite everything, I smiled.
The silence between us felt different than before—less awkward, more companionable. We were two people facing the same storm, huddled in the eye of it together.
“Thank you,” I said suddenly. “For everything today. Scout, the security system... just being here.”
He shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. We don’t know if any of it will work.”
“It already has.” I gestured around us. “I feel safer with you here. So does Nora.”
His expression softened at the mention of my daughter. “She’s a good kid. Tough, like her mom.”
“Sometimes too tough for her own good,” I admitted. “She gets that from me.”
Jake’s mouth quirked. “Nothing wrong with being tough.”
“Except when it keeps you from letting people in.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He looked at me then, really looked at me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Not letting people in?”
“Aren’t you?” I challenged gently. “You’ve lived here four and a half years, Jake. In all that time, how many friends have you made? How many people know the real you?”
He leaned back, his jaw tightening. “The real me isn’t much to know.”
“I disagree.” I shifted closer, the space between us narrowing. “I think there’s a lot more to Jake Brennen than meets the eye.”
He huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, what you see is what you get. Broken rancher with too much baggage and not enough sense to quit while he’s ahead.”
“That’s not what I see,” I said softly.
His eyes met mine again, wary now. “What do you see, then?”
I hesitated, then said, “I see someone who’s been hurt, who lost everything, and still shows up when others need him.
I see someone who carries my sleeping daughter to bed and installs security systems and stays up all night with a rifle because he’s worried about us. ” I swallowed hard. “I see you, Jake.”
The air between us changed, charged with something I hadn’t felt in years—maybe had never truly felt before. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“Ella,” he said, my name a warning and a question all at once.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
For one heartbeat, he went utterly still. Then his hand came up to cradle my face, and he was kissing me back with an intensity that stole my breath. His lips were warm, firm, moving against mine with a restraint that told me he was holding back. I slid my fingers into his hair, urging him closer.
He made a sound low in his throat, almost a groan, and suddenly his arms were around me, pulling me against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering through the thin fabric of my robe, matching the frantic pace of my own.
The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing mine, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him. My head spun with the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, desired—of being seen exactly as I was and not found wanting.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Jake rested his forehead against mine, his hands still tangled in my hair.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, though he made no move to pull away.
“Why not?” I countered, my fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw.
His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. “Because you’re... and I’m...” He shook his head. “I’m not what you need, Ella. Not now, not with everything that’s happening.”
“I think I’m the one who gets to decide what I need.” I pulled back just enough to see his face clearly. “And right now, I need this. I need you.”
Something flashed in his eyes—desire, fear, I couldn’t tell which. His thumb brushed my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not... I haven’t been with anyone since Avril. And even before that, I wasn’t exactly...” He trailed off, frustration etched in the lines of his face.
“I’m not asking for anything,” I said softly. “Just this moment. Just you and me, right now.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. His hands slid down to my waist, drawing me back to him. This time when our lips met, there was no hesitation, only heat and hunger and the desperate need to forget everything but each other.
I found myself in his lap, my robe parting to reveal my thin cotton nightgown underneath. His hands moved to the curve of my hip, the small of my back, tracing fire wherever they touched. I arched into him, wanting more, needing to be closer.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, and I gasped at the sensation. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. When I finally managed to open it, I splayed my hands across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, the warmth of him.
“Ella,” he breathed against my collarbone. “We should slow down.”
I knew he was right, but my body disagreed vehemently. Every nerve ending was alive, singing with a desire I’d thought long forgotten. I pressed myself closer, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal beneath me.
“I don’t want to slow down,” I whispered, nipping gently at his earlobe.
His hands tightened on my hips, holding me still. “We need to.” His voice was strained but resolute. “Not like this. Not with your daughter down the hall and someone possibly watching the house.”
Reality crashed back, cold and unwelcome. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, to calm my heart.
“You’re right,” I said finally, though I made no move to leave his lap.
Jake tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. “This isn’t a no,” he said quietly. “It’s a not yet.”
I nodded, understanding. There was too much happening, too many unknowns. Adding this complication now would only make everything harder if it went wrong.
Slowly, reluctantly, I disentangled myself from him and stood, adjusting my robe. Jake remained seated, his shirt still open, hair mussed from my fingers. He looked devastatingly handsome in the lamplight, and for a moment I almost changed my mind.
“I should go back to bed,” I said, though every part of me rebelled at the thought of leaving him.
He nodded, buttoning his shirt with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “Probably for the best.”
I turned to go, then paused at the edge of the room. “Jake?”
He looked up, his eyes still dark with desire. “Yeah?”
“This isn’t over.”
A slow smile spread across his face, transforming him from brooding to breathtaking. “No,” he agreed. “It’s just beginning.”
I carried that smile with me back to my bedroom, where I lay awake for a long time, replaying the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his hands, the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious.
Outside my window, the night stretched on, full of shadows and unseen threats. But for the first time in years, I felt the stirring of something stronger than fear—something like hope.
Morning arrived with pale winter sunshine and the smell of coffee brewing. I found Jake in the kitchen, fully dressed, his hair damp from a shower. He looked up when I entered, and for a moment neither of us spoke, the memory of last night hanging between us like an unfinished melody.
“Sleep okay?” he asked finally, sliding a mug toward me.
“Eventually,” I answered, accepting the coffee. Our fingers brushed, and even that small contact sent a jolt through me. “You?”
“Not much.” He leaned against the counter, watching me over the rim of his own mug. “Had a lot on my mind.”
I took a sip of coffee to hide my smile. “Anything interesting?”
A slow grin spread across his face, making him look younger, lighter. “Might say that.”
Before I could respond, Nora appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stopped when she saw Jake, then broke into a smile.
“You’re still here!” she exclaimed, padding over to him.
“Told you I would be,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
She ducked away, giggling. “Can we call Dr. Miller? I want to know if Scout’s okay.”
The mention of Scout brought reality crashing back. I set my mug down and reached for my phone. “Of course. Let’s do that right now.”
Dr. Miller answered on the second ring. “I was just about to call you,” she said, her voice cautiously optimistic. “Scout had a good night. He’s responding well to treatment. Still not out of the woods, but his vitals are stronger this morning.”
Relief washed over me. “Can we visit him?”
“Later this afternoon would be better. He needs rest right now.”
After promising to call with any changes, she hung up. I relayed the news to Nora, whose entire body seemed to sag with relief.
“See?” Jake said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Told you he was tough.”
Nora beamed up at him, and something twisted in my chest at the sight—a bittersweet ache of possibility and fear. They looked right together, this child who’d never known a father’s love and this man who’d lost his daughter too soon.
A knock at the front door broke the moment. Jake straightened immediately, his hand moving instinctively to his hip where his gun would usually be.
“Stay here,” he said quietly, all trace of the earlier lightness gone from his face.
I pulled Nora behind me as Jake moved cautiously to the door, checking the security panel first. His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“It’s Caleb,” he called back to me.
I released the breath I’d been holding. Jake opened the door, and Caleb stepped in, stamping snow from his boots. His eyes went from Jake to me, then to Nora, who was still half-hidden behind me.
“Morning,” he said, his gaze lingering on Jake’s rumpled shirt. “Everything okay here?”
“Scout’s sick,” Nora piped up before either of us could respond. “Someone poisoned him.”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “Poisoned?”
“Antifreeze,” Jake said grimly. “Vet confirmed it last night.”
Caleb whistled low. “That’s... deliberate.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed, running a hand through his hair. “We were about to have breakfast. Have you eaten?”
I moved toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. “I can make pancakes.”
While I mixed batter and heated the griddle, I listened to the brothers talking in low voices in the living room. Nora had settled at the kitchen table with her coloring books, seemingly content now that she knew Scout was improving.
“You think it’s connected to the fence breaks?” Caleb was asking.
“Highly unlikely,” Jake replied.
“And the package Ella got?”
A pause. “I think it’s connected to that, yes.”
I flipped a pancake with more force than necessary, trying not to think about the Polaroids still hidden in my dresser drawer. The men’s voices dropped lower, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the serious tone was unmistakable.
When breakfast was ready, I called them in. We mainly ate in silence, the weight of unspoken concerns heavy around us. Nora, oblivious to the tension, chattered about making a get-well card for Scout.
“I need to head into town,” Jake said finally, pushing his plate away. “Check on some things.”
“I’ll stay here,” Caleb offered immediately. “Keep an eye on things.”
I glanced between them, sensing some unspoken agreement had been reached. “I need to go to the bakery,” I said. “Just for a few hours. Frank’s short-staffed with Helen out.”
Jake frowned. “Is there someone who can cover for you?”
“Not on such short notice.” I began clearing the plates. “Nora can come with me. She’ll be safe there.”
“I’ll drive you,” Jake said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “And pick you up when you’re done.”
I started to protest, but stopped myself. The truth was, I didn’t want to be alone, even in the middle of town. Not with Scout in the hospital and threatening messages arriving at my door.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Thank you.”