Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
ATLEE
I’m waiting outside the jail, biting my nails as I wait for Devlin to come out. The door opens, and out comes Lennon. “Hey,” I wave her over. “What’s happening in there?”
Lennon grabs my arms, steering me so that I’m leaning against my SUV.
“They’re getting bonded out. The arraignment went well, and I have a feeling they won’t be indicted by the grand jury.
The evidence is circumstantial at best, and tomorrow there’s going to be an article printed in the Grizzly River Gazette about Project Watershed.
Once all the other ranchers know about what Noah and the Morrison family are planning on doing, no one will want to indict them.
They’ll see it as the guys being bullied because they’re fighting against people who want to harm the ranchers. ”
I feel better hearing her speak. Everything she’s saying makes so much sense, but I won’t be completely calm until I get Devlin in my arms.
“How long until they’re released?” I ask, my eyes darting back to the jail doors.
“Paperwork is being processed now,” Lennon says, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Could be fifteen minutes, could be an hour. You know how bureaucracy works.”
I don’t really know, but I nod, trying to keep my anxiety in check.
“Did you see him? Is he okay?” The questions tumble out before I can stop them.
Lennon’s expression changes, a flicker of anger crossing her face. “Noah roughed him up a bit. Split his lip.”
My stomach drops. “What? What a fucking asshole.”
“Don’t worry. We’re documenting everything. It’s all going to work in our favor when we file the harassment suit.”
“I don’t care about the lawsuit,” I say, my voice rising. “I care about Devlin being hurt!”
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I know, sis. I know. But he’s tough, you know that, and he’s more worried about you than anything else.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Even now, even when he’s the one in trouble, his concern is for me. It’s just who he is.
I lean back against my SUV, trying to calm my racing heart.
The parking lot of the county jail is nearly empty, just a few official vehicles and Lennon’s car beside mine.
The coming winter air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine from the surrounding forest. It would be peaceful if not for the circumstances.
“How are you holding up?” Lennon asks, studying my face. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, then catch myself. This is Lennon. I don’t have to pretend with her. “Actually, I’m terrified. What if they don’t let him out? What if Noah finds some way to keep him locked up?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Lennon assures me firmly.
“Shawn’s one of the best attorneys in the state, and Judge Holloway isn’t in Morrison’s pocket.
The system doesn’t always work, but today, it’s working in our favor.
She already told them to release the guys.
It just takes a while for the wheels of justice to turn. ”
I want to believe her. I need to believe her. “And the rustling charges? What if they stick?”
She shakes her head. “Like I said, the evidence is circumstantial at best. They’ve got some grainy video footage and Morrison’s word, which isn’t worth much once people find out what he’s been planning with Project Watershed.”
“What exactly is Project Watershed?” I ask. It’s been mentioned before, but no one has really explained it to me.
“It’s a land grab,” Lennon says, her expression hardening. “The Morrisons are trying to buy up all the land around the river and its tributaries. Once they control the water rights, they can charge whatever they want for access. They’d essentially control who gets to ranch in Grizzly River.”
“And that’s legal?”
“It’s in a gray area,” she admits. “But that’s not the point. The point is, once the other ranchers understand what’s at stake, they’ll see Devlin and the others as the ones fighting back against corporate greed, not as criminals.”
Before I can respond, the jail doors swing open, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Jesse emerges first, followed by Truett and Carson.
Then there he is, Devlin, his broad shoulders filling out a plain white T-shirt that’s clearly not his own.
Even from here, I can see the angry red mark on his face where Noah struck him.
It looks like they gave him clothes because he may have gotten blood on his.
I don’t think, don’t hesitate. I’m running before I realize I’ve pushed off from the SUV, my feet carrying me across the parking lot, dodging a patrol car that’s pulling in.
“Devlin!” I call out, and his head snaps up, his eyes finding mine.
Something in his face changes when he sees me, the hard lines softening, the tension in his jaw easing. He takes a few steps forward, opening his arms just as I launch myself at him.
His arms close around me, solid and warm and real, lifting me slightly off the ground as I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells like cheap soap and something distinctly him beneath it, and I’ve never been so grateful for anything in my life.
“You’re okay,” I whisper against his skin, my voice choked with emotion. “You’re really okay.”
“I’m okay,” he confirms, his lips brushing my temple. “Everything’s going to be fine, Atlee. I promise.”
I pull back just enough to examine his face, my fingers ghosting over the split in his lip and the bruise forming on his cheekbone. “He hurt you.”
A small, dangerous smile curves his mouth. “Trust me, it was worth it. Played right into our hands.”
I want to argue that nothing is worth his being hurt, but this isn’t the time or place. “Let’s go home,” I say instead. “I want to get you away from here.”
He nods, keeping one arm around me as we walk toward my SUV. Jesse calls out something about meeting tomorrow, and Devlin raises a hand in acknowledgment, but his focus remains on me.
Once we’re in the car, doors closed against the outside world, he turns to me, his expression serious. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We had a plan, but things moved faster than we expected.”
“Lennon filled me in on some of it,” I tell him, starting the engine. “She seems to think it’s all going to work out.”
“It will,” he says with quiet confidence. “Noah overplayed his hand, and the Morrisons are about to have bigger problems than us tomorrow.”
I navigate out of the parking lot, heading toward home—our home, I remind myself with a small thrill despite the circumstances. It still feels strange to think of Devlin’s cabin as mine too, but in the best possible way.
“What happened exactly?” I ask as we drive, needing to understand all of it.
He tells me about Austin’s warning, about Noah and the deputies bursting into the barn, about the arrest, and about Noah’s unnecessary violence. His voice remains steady, but I can see the tension in the set of his shoulders and hear the controlled anger when he describes Noah striking him.
“He wanted me to fight back,” Devlin explains. “Give him an excuse to escalate. But that’s not how this game is played.”
“This isn’t a game,” I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “This is your life, Devlin. Your freedom.”
He reaches over, placing his hand on my thigh, the warmth of it seeping through my jeans. “I know that. But trust me, we’ve got this under control. This isn’t the first tight spot I’ve been in, and it won’t be the last.”
Something about his calm certainty steadies me. This is the man who survived multiple combat tours, who built a life for himself from nothing when he returned. If anyone can navigate this storm, it’s him.
The rest of the drive passes in comfortable silence, his hand remaining on my leg. It’s exactly what I need to ground me and remind me he’s actually here with me.
When we pull up to the cabin, the sight of it fills me with relief—the solid wooden walls, the porch where we’ve spent so many evenings, the rocking chairs side by side facing the mountains.
“It’s good to be home,” Devlin says softly, as if reading my thoughts.
Inside, the half-finished shelving units still sit in the living room, a reminder of the life we were planning before everything went sideways.
Devlin stands in the middle of the room, looking around as if seeing it for the first time, or maybe just appreciating it in a new way after his brief confinement.
“You should clean up,” I tell him, gesturing to his face. “Let me get you some ice for that bruise.”
He catches my wrist as I turn toward the kitchen, pulling me back against his chest. “In a minute,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Right now, I just want to hold you.”
I melt into him, letting his strength envelop me. His hands slide up my back, into my hair, tilting my face up to his. The kiss is gentle, mindful of his injured lip, but there’s an intensity behind it that steals my breath.
“I was so scared,” I confess when we break apart. “When Lennon called and said you’d been arrested…”
“I know,” he says, his forehead resting against mine. “But I’m here now, and nothing—not Noah, not the Morrisons, nothing—is going to take me away from you. I promise.”
There’s a fierce certainty in his voice that makes me believe him, despite all evidence to the contrary, despite the charges hanging over his head, and despite the powerful men aligned against him.
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and I mean it. “I believe you.”
His expression shifts, a hunger replacing the tenderness. His next kiss is deeper, more urgent, his hands dropping to my hips to pull me firmly against him. I respond instantly, my body recognizing what we both need right now, to connect with one another and make sure both of us are okay.
My fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to touch warm skin. He makes a sound low in his throat, half growl, half groan, and suddenly we’re moving, stumbling toward the bedroom, shedding clothes as we go.
When we tumble onto the bed, the familiarity surrounds me—the laundry detergent I picked out last week, the subtle musk that’s uniquely Devlin. It smells like home, like safety, and everything I’ve always wanted.
His body covers mine, solid and warm, his weight the most welcome pressure I’ve ever felt. I run my hands over every inch of him I can reach, reassuring myself that he’s here, he’s whole, he’s mine. My lips run up and down his flesh, wanting to imprint myself on every part of him.
“I love you,” I whisper against his skin, as he presses his length deep into my body. “I love you so much.”
“Atlee,” he breathes my name as he presses in and pulls out of me. “My Atlee.”
There’s a desperation in our lovemaking that’s never been there before.
The reality of knowing it could be pulled away from us as quickly as we got it has me pressing my head back against the pillow and glancing up at Devlin.
His face is a mask of passion as he presses his knees against the mattress and completely decimates my body.
He’s a man on a mission as he reaches down between us and presses his thumb to my clit, causing me to fall apart in his arms. As my body grips his, he throws his head back and grunts as I feel his release. Panting, I try to slow down my pounding heart.
After, as we lie tangled in the sheets, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, I trace the tattoos on his chest, following the intricate patterns that tell the story of his life before me.
“Do you think it will always be like this?” I ask quietly. “People trying to come between us?”
He’s silent for a moment, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my bare shoulder. “Not always,” he finally says. “Noah and the Morrisons…they’re just obstacles. We’ll get past them.”
“And then?”
“And then we build a life,” he says simply. “The one we were planning before all this happened. The shelves, the porch swing, maybe a garden in the spring.”
I smile against his skin, loving the picture he’s painting. “That sounds perfect.”
“It will be,” he promises, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m not letting anything take that future away from us, Atlee. Nothing and no one.”
I believe him. Despite everything—the charges, Noah’s vendetta, the uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring—I believe him. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Devlin Nelson, it’s that when he sets his mind to something, not even the forces of nature can stand in his way.
And right now, his mind is set on us. On our future together. On the life we’re building in this small cabin on the edge of the Grizzly River Ranch.
As I drift toward sleep, secure in the circle of his arms, I look forward to the rest of my life with him. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And somehow, I know that will be enough.