Chapter 13 Jessie
Jessie
Tank’s hand finds my knee as we turn onto the main ranch road, his thumb tracing slow circles through my jeans like he knows exactly how fast my heart is racing.
After everything we’ve been through, you’d think I’d be past getting nervous. But I’m not. Because I’m meeting his best friends, who are like his ‘family,’ and their partners.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m mentally preparing.” The main house comes into view, warm light spilling from every window, trucks already parked in a haphazard cluster by the porch. “You could’ve warned me this was a whole thing.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“With your entire military unit.”
“Former unit.” His mouth twitches. “Just Saint and Tex. The guys would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t bring you.”
My stomach does a complicated flip. He wanted to bring me.
I should be used to this by now, to the way Tank includes me, like there was never any question that I belonged in his world.
The truck rolls to a stop, and two women on the porch catch my attention, watching our approach with undisguised curiosity. Jane, curvy and blonde, practically bouncing on her heels. Sadie, dark-haired, calmer, with a quiet smile that makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay.
“Jane and Sadie,” I murmur.
“They’ve been asking about you.” He cuts the engine and turns to look at me, something soft in those steady eyes. “Fair warning—Jane has no volume control. But she means well.”
“Noted.”
“And the guys are going to give me shit. That’s just what they do.”
“Also noted.” I take a breath. “Anything else I should know?”
“Yeah.” He leans over, presses a quick kiss to my temple that makes my whole body warm. “They’re going to love you. Because I do.”
He’s out of the truck before I can process those words.
Because I do.
Did he just—?
Jane is already coming down the porch steps, all wild blonde curls and cowboy boots, whiskey sloshing dangerously in her glass.
“Finally! I've been dying to meet you properly. We smiled at each other backstage but then everything got crazy and—” She pulls me into a hug that smells like vanilla and expensive whiskey before I’ve fully closed the truck door.
“I’m Jane. We were auctioned off the same night!
Well, not together-together, but you know what I mean. ”
“I remember.” I’m laughing despite myself. “You were after me, right? The crowd went insane.”
“Tex almost dislocated his shoulder with that paddle.” Jane releases me, beaming. “God, you’re even prettier up close.”
“Jane.” Tank rounds the truck, his voice carrying the long-suffering tone of a man who’s had this conversation before. “Thirty seconds. I asked for thirty seconds.”
“You asked. I declined.” She loops her arm through mine as if we’ve been friends for years. “Come on, you need wine and a front-row seat.”
Sadie is waiting on the porch steps, extending her hand with a warm smile. “I’m Sadie. Last-minute addition to the auction lineup.”
“I remember.” Her hand is warm in mine, her grip gentle but sure. “How’s country life treating you?”
“Better than I expected.” Her eyes crinkle. “These cowboys and mountain men grow on you.”
“Like moss,” Jane adds cheerfully. “Or fungus. Adorable, overprotective fungus.”
Tank grunts, which seems to be his default response to accurate observations.
Inside, warmth hits me immediately, along with the aroma of garlic and something sweet baking in the back.
The main room is open and lived-in. Worn leather couches face a stone fireplace, a long wooden table is already set for dinner, and photographs line the mantel.
The whole place smells like home in a way that makes my chest ache.
And the men.
They fill the space the way mountains fill a horizon, impossible to ignore, and utterly unselfconscious about the room they take up. Two of them are squared off near the stove, engaged in what appears to be a heated debate involving tongs.
“Medium-well is not a preference, it's a cry for help,” the tall, rangy one is saying, his Southern drawl as thick as honey.
“It’s how she likes it.” The quieter one with thoughtful eyes and a calm presence doesn't rise to the bait. “Therefore, it’s correct.”
“Saint, brother, I say this with love: you’re enabling beef abuse.”
“Tex.” Tank’s voice cuts through. “We have company.”
Both men turn. Tex’s face splits into a grin. Saint’s expression warms into something quieter but no less welcoming.
“Well, well, well.” Tex sets down the tongs and crosses the room in three long strides.
“The mountain hermit finally descends with his mystery woman.” He extends his hand to me, his grip firm and friendly.
“Ma’am. We’ve heard absolutely nothing about you because Tank has the emotional transparency of a brick wall. ”
“I’m standing right here.”
“I know. That’s what makes it fun.” Tex winks at me. “I remember you being pretty, but you are way out of his league.”
Saint approaches next, quieter than Tex, offering his hand with a nod. “Jessie. It’s good to finally meet you. Tank’s been... different since you.”
“Is that right?”
“He laughs now.” Saint’s mouth curves. “It’s unsettling.”
“Okay.” Tank’s hand lands on my lower back, warm and steady. “That’s enough character assassination. Someone get her a drink before you scare her off.”
“Wine?” Jane’s already at my elbow with a glass. “Or something stronger? Fair warning, Tex makes a margarita that’ll have you confessing your sins by the second round.”
“Wine’s perfect.” I accept the glass, grateful for something to do with my hands.
“Grab seats, everyone,” Sadie calls, carrying a massive bowl of salad to the table. “Steaks are almost ready, assuming Tex stops critiquing and starts plating.”
“I’m plating! Under protest, but I’m plating.”
A shuffle of bodies and chairs follows as everyone finds their spots with the easy familiarity of people who’ve done this a hundred times. Tank pulls out a chair for me, then settles into the one beside it, his thigh pressing warm against mine under the table.
Jane drops into the seat across from me, Tex beside her. Sadie and Saint take the ends. Platters of steak, roasted potatoes, salad, and still-steaming bread that smells like heaven start circulating.
“So.” Jane spears a potato, eyes bright with curiosity. “Auction Survivors Club. How’s cabin life treating you, Jessie?”
“Cabin life?” I buy time with a sip of wine. “It’s... cozy.”
“Cozy.” She repeats the word like she’s tasting it. “Is that code for ‘very small space, very large man, constant sexual tension’?”
I choke on my wine.
Tank goes still beside me. Tex barks out a laugh. Saint closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience.
“Jane.” Sadie’s voice is mild, but her lips are twitching. “Maybe let her finish her first glass before the interrogation.”
“What? We were all at that auction. We all saw these idiots lose their minds.” Jane gestures with her fork. “Tank looked like he was going to vault the tables. Tex had to physically hold him back from bidding before the announcer even started.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Tank admits, grabbing his beer.
“And you.” Jane points at Sadie. “Saint was so focused on you, he forgot how numbers work. Started bidding against himself.”
“It was a strategic choice,” Saint says calmly, cutting his steak. “I was eliminating competition.”
“You were panicking.”
“Strategically.”
Laughter bubbles up from my chest, loosening something tight. These people don’t know me, not really, not yet, but they’re including me in the joke, the history, the easy rhythm of their lives.
Sadie stands and walks to Saint, passing him the roast potatoes.
He pulls her in and steals a kiss on her cheek before accepting the bowl.
Jane flicks a green bean at Tex in retaliation for something I missed, and he catches it mid-air and eats it with a wink.
Underneath the table, a black and white border collie called Maisie makes the rounds, optimistic nose brushing against knees, tail thumping softly against chair legs when someone sneaks her a scrap.
This is what family looks like, I realize. Not polite and performative, but loud. Messy. People talking over each other and reaching across plates and giving each other grief because they’ve earned the right.
Tank's hand finds my knee under the table, warm and steady. I cover it with mine.
Tex leans back in his chair, beer in hand. “So. You two finally done being dramatic, or should we expect another crisis by dessert?”
“Tex.” Jane’s elbow connects with his ribs.
“What? I'm just asking. First, the accidental marriage—which, by the way, legendary—then your agent showing up like a villain in a Hallmark movie.”
“He drove six hours to stage an intervention,” I say. “In a cashmere coat.”
“In cashmere.” Tex clutches his chest. “The horror.”
“To be fair,” Saint says mildly, “you did confront him in your underwear.”
“Tank’s flannel,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
“There really isn’t,” Sadie says, grinning.
Tank’s thumb strokes my knee, and when I glance at him, he’s watching me with that soft, private look—the one that still makes my stomach flip, even now. Especially now.
“She handled it,” he says, as if it’s simple. Like I didn’t tear up annulment papers and fire my agent and choose him, choose this, not the man who thought he could manage me back into my old life.
“Handled it?” Tex snorts. “She ended him. I heard Albert couldn’t get cell service for twenty miles, just sitting at that gate, stewing in his little rental car.”
“It was a Mercedes,” I offer.
“Even better. Rich guy karma.”
The table dissolves into laughter. Jane raises her glass. “To Jessie. For telling that man exactly where he could shove his commission.”
“And his opinions,” Sadie adds.
“And his cashmere coat,” Tex finishes.
I duck my head, cheeks warm, but I'm smiling so hard it hurts. “I didn’t tell him where to shove anything. I just... chose differently.”
Tank’s hand tightens on my knee. When I look at him, his eyes are soft and fierce all at once.
“You chose us,” he says quietly. “You chose home.”
The table goes still for a moment—not awkward, just... full. Like everyone feels the weight of it.
Then Tex ruins it, because of course he does.
“Okay, that was disgustingly sweet. Someone pass the whiskey before I get emotional.”
“You’re already emotional,” Jane says. “You cried at a truck commercial last week.”
“It was a retirement commercial. The dog was old, Jane. The dog was old.”
The bickering picks up again, warm and easy. Saint catches my eye across the table and raises his glass in a silent welcome. I raise mine back.
The meal stretches long, plates emptying and refilling, wine flowing freely. The men give each other endless grief about some incident involving Saint and baby goats that no one will fully explain.
“Tell her about the sweaters,” Tex says, grinning like a cat with cream. “You have to tell her about the sweaters.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Saint’s voice is carefully neutral, but his ears have gone pink.
“Nothing to—” Tex turns to me, delighted. “So we get these orphaned baby goats, right? Three of them, barely a week old. Someone’s got to bottle-feed them every few hours or they'll die.”
“A necessary task,” Saint says. “Nothing more.”
“Nothing more, he says.” Tex is practically vibrating. “Jessie, this guy not only volunteers for every single feeding, but he knits them tiny sweaters. Matching tiny sweaters. With their names embroidered on the back.”
“They get cold,” Saint says, still not looking up from his plate. “It’s a practical solution.”
“Practical! You named them Aristotle, Plato, and Confucius! You sing to them while they eat!”
“Music aids digestion. There are studies.”
“What do you sing?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Saint finally looks up, meeting my eyes with perfect dignity. “Johnny Cash. They have refined taste.”
Jane catches my eye across the table and grins. See what I mean? her expression says. Lovable idiots.
Heat blooms behind my ribs.
Later, once the dishes are cleared and dessert demolished, Tank pulls me closer on the couch, his arm heavy across my shoulders.
Jane is gesticulating wildly about something, her brow furrowed. Tex captures her hands gently, placing them against his chest over his heart. Jane calms instantly, and my heart clenches at Tex’s tender care.
Saint and Sadie talk quietly by the fire, her head on his shoulder. Maisie has claimed the rug in front of the hearth, legs twitching as she dreams.
“You doing okay?” Tank's voice is low, just for me.
“Better than okay.” I lean into his side, letting myself settle. “I like them.”
“Good.” His lips brush my temple. “They’re yours now. Whole annoying lot of them.”
“Even Tex?”
“Especially Tex. Someone’s got to keep him humble.”
I laugh, and he pulls me closer, and the fire crackles, and outside, the mountains stand steady against the night sky.
All the places I’ve been flash through my mind. All the towns I’ve passed through. All the temporary homes. All the relationships I left before they could leave me.
I’ve never fit anywhere. Never stayed long enough to try.
But here, with his arm around me and his family's laughter filling the room and a cabin waiting on a mountain that feels like home—
I know I’m done running.