Chapter 23
Mia
I changed my shirt for the third time.
The blue one made me look washed out. The green one had a stain I hadn’t noticed until I’d already put it on. The cream sweater was too dressy, too try-hard, too please like me.
I yanked it over my head and threw it on the bed with the others.
I’d made a quick trip back to my apartment in Billings last week to grab clothes and essentials—the place had felt strange, like walking through someone else’s life.
I’d need to go back soon and pack it all up properly, figure out what to do with the lease. But that was a problem for another day.
“You know they’ve already met you,” Coop said from the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder against the frame, that easy smile on his face. “Multiple times.”
“Individually.” I grabbed a simple black top from the closet. “This is different. This is everyone. Together. At the same time.”
“And that’s terrifying because…?”
I pulled on the shirt and turned to face him.
“Because individually, I can be charming. I can focus. I can remember names and details and seem like a functional human being. But all of them? At once?” I pressed my hand to my stomach.
“What if I call someone the wrong name? What if I forget who’s married to whom? What if—”
“It’s not a quiz.” Coop crossed the room in three strides and caught my face in his hands. “They’re going to love you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He kissed my forehead. “They know I have exceptional taste in women.”
I rolled my eyes. Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since I’d arrived in Garnet Bend, half dead and terrified and clinging to hope like a lifeline. Two weeks since Coop had carried me out of Travis’s house and brought me home.
Home. The word still felt foreign when I applied it to myself.
But these past fourteen days had changed something in me. Yesterday morning, I’d been in the barn at Pawsitive helping Lark with the feeding rounds when Audra—Beckett’s fiancée—had appeared in the doorway, two steaming mugs in her hands.
“Coffee break,” she’d announced, Jet, her German shepherd, by her side as always. “Nonnegotiable.”
We’d sat on hay bales outside Al Pacacino’s pen, the alpaca watching us with his perfected scorn while we drank in comfortable silence. Audra didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. She just sat with me, and after a while, I’d found myself talking anyway.
“Does it ever stop feeling like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
She’d considered the question, turning her mug in her hands.
“Not completely. There are some days when I’m still expecting to look over my shoulder and see my stalker coming after me.
” She reached up and touched the burn scar on the back of her neck—a gift from the man who had terrorized her for months. “But it gets quieter. The waiting.”
“How long did it take?”
“I’ll let you know when I get there.” A small smile. “But it’s better than it was. That’s enough for now.”
We’d finished our coffee watching Al Pacacino terrorize a barn cat that had wandered too close to his fence. The cat had hissed. Al Pacacino had spat. Audra and I had laughed until our sides ached—the first time I’d laughed like that in longer than I could remember.
My camera equipment had arrived three days ago. The feds Coop had been working for had come through, just as Coop said they would. I’d spent an entire afternoon just holding my camera again, relearning its weight in my hands.
That evening, I’d wandered out to the paddock where the therapy horses grazed. The light was golden, syrup-thick, and one of the mares had lifted her head as I approached. I’d raised the camera on instinct. Clicked the shutter. And felt something crack open in my chest.
The creative spark I’d thought might be dead forever had flickered back to life. Tentative. Uncertain. But there.
So yeah, Garnet Bend felt like somewhere I could belong. I was just terrified to trust that feeling.
“Ready?” Coop asked, pulling me back to the present.
I smoothed down my shirt. Took a breath. “Ready.”
When we arrived at the Resting Warrior Ranch a short time later, I couldn’t stop staring.
The property spread across the valley like something from a dream—rolling pastures giving way to sturdy fences, barns weathered to silver, mountains rising in the distance.
The lodge sat at the heart of it all, timber and stone, smoke curling from the chimney, warm light spilling from every window.
I’d heard the stories, from both Coop and others. How former Navy SEALs had built this place as a sanctuary for veterans. How it had grown into something more—a community, a family, a home for people who’d seen too much and needed somewhere safe to heal.
Standing in front of it now, I understood even more why Coop had made this area his home.
“Breathe,” he murmured, taking my hand.
“I’m breathing.”
“You’re holding your breath.”
I let it out in a rush. “How can you tell?”
“Your shoulders were up around your ears.” He squeezed my fingers. “Come on. They don’t bite.”
The front door opened before we reached it, and chaos spilled out. A toddler barreled past, shrieking with delight, followed closely by a golden retriever and a harried-looking woman calling, “Zeke! Zeke, we don’t run near the—”
A crash from inside. Someone laughed. A baby wailed briefly, then stopped.
“Welcome to family dinner,” Coop said and pulled me through the door.
The lodge was packed. Bodies everywhere—sprawled on couches, crowded around a massive dining table, gathered in clusters near the fireplace. Kids weaved between legs. Dogs tracked crumbs across the hardwood.
Jada Banks found me first, warm smile already in place. I’d met her a couple times over the past couple weeks. She also did some part-time work at Pawsitive.
“Mia! I’m so glad you came.” She pulled me into a hug before I could overthink it. “Hunter’s around here somewhere. Probably arguing with Lucas about the best way to smoke a brisket. It’s been going on for three years. Nobody’s winning.”
Hunter materialized at her side. “I’m winning. He just won’t admit it.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Lucas called from across the room.
Beckett and Audra appeared next. Audra caught my eye and gave me a small nod—solidarity. Beckett clapped Coop on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “About time. Lachlan’s been hogging all the good beer.”
“Slander.” Lachlan, sheriff of Garnet Bend, emerged from the kitchen, a twin toddler balanced in each arm. Sadie and Caleb. His wife Piper trailed behind him, and when she caught my gaze, her smile was soft and gentle, like the woman herself.
Another woman who’d arrived here broken and found herself pieced back together.
Lucas Everett, one of the founders of Resting Warrior, and his wife Evelyn were corralling their kids near the food table.
Lark waved from across the room, red hair catching the firelight.
And then there were the others—Daniel and Emma standing close, Liam and the ever-quiet Mara near the bookshelf, Jude next to Lena with her purple streaks bright in the lamplight.
I tried to catalog it all. The easy touches. The overlapping conversations. The way people moved around each other like water, filling gaps, anticipating needs.
Then Lena’s voice cut through the noise. “Okay, but we need to talk about what happened with Thunder and the butterfly.”
Groans erupted around the room. Beckett dropped his head into his hands. “We really don’t.”
“We really do.” Lena was already grinning. “For those who haven’t heard—and Mia, you definitely haven’t heard—Thunder is this massive Belgian Malinois. Security dog. Trained to take down armed intruders without hesitation.”
Beckett groaned. “Lena, I swear to God—”
“So, Beckett’s doing a demonstration for some potential clients last month.
Very serious. Very professional. Thunder’s in full work mode.
” She paused for effect. “Until a monarch butterfly lands on his nose. And this eighty-pound killing machine completely loses his mind. Spinning in circles, snapping at the air, practically crying.”
The room dissolved into laughter. Even the people who’d clearly heard this story before were grinning.
“He didn’t run in circles,” Beckett protested. “He just…relocated. Quickly.”
“Oh, he so ran in circles,” Audra confirmed. “I have video.”
“You do not.”
She grinned at Beckett, love shining in her eyes. “I do. I’m saving it for leverage.”
The teasing continued, layering over itself—someone mentioned the time Duchess figured out how to unlock her stall and raided the feed room at three a.m. Someone else brought up Al Pacacino’s ongoing feud with the barn cats.
Stories flowed with the drinks, each one building on the last, and I found myself laughing.
Actually laughing, not just performing it.
Dinner was chaos. Beautiful, overwhelming chaos.
The table wasn’t big enough for everyone, so people spilled onto couches and chairs and corners of the floor.
A water glass got knocked over, and nobody cared.
One of the kids fed half their dinner to a dog under the table while their parents pretended not to notice.
Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Audra and Lark cornered me near the kitchen where I’d stepped in alone, just for a breath.
“Escaping?” Lark asked, pressing a fresh glass of wine into my hand.
“Breathing.” I leaned against the counter. “There are a lot of people out there.”
“There are.” Audra crossed her arms, settling in beside me. “I hid in the bathroom for twenty minutes my first family dinner.”
“Only twenty?”
“Beckett came looking for me. Apparently I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.”
Lark snorted. “None of us are as subtle as we think. Emma literally climbed out a window once to avoid a conversation with Daniel.”
“In my defense,” Emma called from somewhere behind us, “he was asking about my five-year plan. I didn’t have a five-year plan. I barely had a five-minute plan.”
“And now?”