Chapter 18
Tex
Boone steps forward.
Caleb intercepts him. “Boone—”
Boone pushes Caleb’s hand away. “She didn’t choose him. She was—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t reduce her to something done to her. She walked into that room on her own two feet. She made a choice, whether you like it or not.”
Weston’s eyes narrow. “You bought her.”
“Not in the way you think. She’s not property,” I retort sharply. “It was a vetted program. A contract. A choice. All the proceeds go back into the program to help people. She could’ve walked away at any point.”
Boone’s mouth twists in disdain. “She’s na?ve.”
I approach, and Boone halts, sensing the threat.
“She’s not na?ve,” I assert. “She’s hurting.”
“So are we,” Caleb says gruffly. The grief in his eyes is old, carved in like a permanent scar. It’s the grief of losing loved ones that never leaves; it just changes shape.
“I know you love her,” I state.
Caleb’s jaw tightens. “She’s all we have left.”
“And you treatin’ her like that makes her fragile,” I reply. “Like she’s the last piece of your parents you can’t lose, so you lock her down and call it protection.”
Caleb flinches.
“We were doing our best.” Weston’s voice is muted.
“I know,” I say, surprised by the truth of it. “But your best is suffocating her.”
Boone’s eyes flash with anger. “You don't know us.”
My gaze meets his. “I know men who’ve been through hell and came back grippin’ on to the only thing they still trust. I recognize fear when it masquerades as love.”
The porch falls silent.
“Where is she going?” Caleb asks quietly.
I glance toward the field. Jane is a dark silhouette against the snow, moving quickly, her shoulders hunched.
“She’s running,” Weston observes, stepping forward.
I instinctively block his path. “No.”
Weston stops, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“She doesn’t need three brothers coming at her like that at this point,” I explain.
Caleb raises his chin. “Then what does she need?”
I don’t hesitate. “She needs you to listen. She needs you to stop treatin’ her like a problem and start recognizing her as a person.”
Boone’s jaw clenches. “We do.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You love her, but you don’t truly see her. Not the way she needs.”
Caleb’s expression hardens again. “And you do?”
I stare at him for a few seconds before I finally state the truth that’s been sitting in my chest since the moment she walked out the door. “She didn’t run from you. She ran to herself.”
Weston’s eyes widen with understanding. Boone’s anger falters for a moment. Caleb’s expression cracks a little, as if something inside him finally accepts what she’s been trying to say for years.
Caleb exhales. “We found out about the auction this morning.”
“How?” I ask.
Boone’s voice is bitter. “Town gossip. Some guy at the feed store couldn’t wait to tell us our sister got sold to a SEAL.”
Jane would hate that phrasing. I hate it too.
Caleb’s gaze holds mine. “Is she safe here?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Are you sleeping with her?” Weston’s voice is tight.
Boone’s head snaps to Weston. “What the—”
A muscle flickers in Caleb's jaw.
I keep my voice even. “That’s none of your damn business.”
Weston’s eyes sharpen. “It becomes our business if she’s being used.”
That word strikes a nerve. Used. As if Jane lacks agency and can’t choose what she wants. As if her desire is something that happens to her instead of something she owns.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Jane is not being used. She’s being cared for. Respected. And she’s being chosen.”
Boone scoffs. “Chosen. By you.”
“Yes,” I reply, standing my ground. “By me.”
Caleb’s gaze hardens. “Are you in love with her?”
The question is a trap and a test, but I don’t care. I answer anyway, because if there’s one thing I've learned since Jane Cutter walked into my life, it’s that silence protects nothing—it only allows misunderstandings to fester.
“Yes.”
Boone goes still.
Weston’s mouth parts.
Caleb looks shocked, then resigned.
I point toward the field. “And currently, she thinks she ruined everything. She believes you came here and proved every fear she’s ever had about herself.”
Caleb’s throat bobs as he swallows hard.
Weston’s voice is quiet. “We didn’t mean—”
“I know,” I cut in. “But intent doesn’t matter when the impact hits that hard.”
Boone’s shoulders sag as his anger gives way to guilt.
“We just want her home,” Caleb’s voice has a harsh tone.
I shake my head. “You want her safe.”
Caleb’s eyes narrow. “Same thing.”
“No,” I respond. “Safe isn’t the same as caged.”
Silence envelops us for several long seconds.
I step back, my gaze unwavering. “You can stay here. You can wait. You can cool off.”
Boone bristles again. “We’re not taking orders from—”
Caleb raises a hand. “Boone. Shut up.”
Boone’s mouth snaps shut.
Caleb looks at me with heavy eyes. “Bring her back.”
“I’ll bring her back if she wants to come,” I reply. “Not because you demanded it.”
Weston exhales. “Tex—”
I don't let him finish. I turn and head into the snow, boots crunching hard, because Jane is out there, and I’m not letting her run until she freezes solid. Not when she ran because she was hurt. Not when she bolted because the people who love her the most still don’t know how to hold her gently.
The field opens up behind the cabin, white and bright, the wind cutting across it like a blade.
Jane’s footprints are easy to follow. She doesn’t hide. She wants to be found. Not dragged back. Not fixed. Found.
That realization hits me in the gut as I walk slowly and steadily, closing the distance like a promise.
I find her near the fence line where we first kissed.
She’s standing with her hands on the top rail, staring out at nothing, her breath fogging in the air. Her shoulders are stiff, her chin lifted as if she refuses to crumble. But I can see the tremor running through her; cold and fear and hurt all tangled together.
But I can also see it in the way her fingers grip the wood too tightly.
She hears me behind her but doesn't turn. “Go back,” she says flatly.
“No.”
A sharp inhale. “Tex—”
“No,” I repeat gently. “I’m not leavin’ you out here.”
Her laugh is bitter. “You should. I’m apparently a mess everyone has to clean up.”
I stop a few feet behind her. Close enough for her to feel me, but not so close that I crowd her. “You’re not a problem.”
She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. “They came all the way here. They found out. They—” Her voice cracks, but she forces it steady again. “Boone said I’m a mess.”
My jaw tightens. “I heard.”
Jane finally turns. Her eyes blaze with shame and anger and something softer underneath—hurt so deep that it makes my chest ache.
“I should go with them,” she says. “It would be easier.”
I take a slow step closer. “Don’t you know by now that I don’t want easy?”
Her lips tremble. “You didn’t want me either.”
The words hit hard.
I step right in front of her, close enough now to take her hands if she’ll let me. “I want you. I chose you. You are, and will always be, my choice.”
Her breath shakes. “Even with my brothers thinking you’re some kind of—”
“I don’t care what they think,” I cut in.
Jane flinches. “You should.”
I tilt my head. “No. The only thing I care about is what you think. And right now, you think you’re not worth the trouble.”
Her eyes become glossy with the tears she’s so desperately trying to hold back.
I lift my hand, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t, so I brush my thumb over her cheekbone, catching a tear she didn’t realize had fallen.
“You are the very best kind of trouble. And you’re worth it. Every part of you, even those parts you think need fixin’.”
Jane’s breath breaks. For a moment, she looks like she might bolt again.
Then she asks, “What if I can’t fix them?”
I lean in, our foreheads touching. “You don’t have to fix anything. You just have to let people love you without paying for it.”
Her eyes squeeze shut.
The wind gusts around us, cold and sharp.
I hold her face between my hands like she’s precious. Because she is. “Come back inside. Not for them. For you. We’ll handle it together.”
Jane opens her eyes, raw and scared. “Promise?”
I don’t hesitate. “On my life.”
And as I pull her into my chest, holding her against the cold, I glance back toward the cabin where three brothers wait on the porch. Three men who love her so much they struggle to let her breathe.
They wanted a reckoning. They’re going to get one.
But first, I’m going to bring Jane home to herself, right here, in the field where it all started.