7. Danger
CHAPTER SEVEN
danger
She’s standing there like some pathetic baby deer caught in headlights, all wide-eyed and flushed, and I can’t help but grin.
An overhead bulb flickers once, catching the hay dust swirling around her and the nervous bite of her bottom lip.
The way she’s holding on to that stall door, it’s like she’s doing everything she can just to stay upright.
“Your mama told me to come through here to the coop.”
“Did she now?”
“Should I let her know your little friend will be joining us for lunch?”
Pink dusts her cheeks. And fuck, I like knowin’ I put it there.
I let my gaze drag over her slow enough to be rude. “Wasn’t that kinda visit.”
She forces a laugh, a little breathless. “You’re disgusting. Ever heard of privacy? Or—stay with me here—there’s this thing called using your own house?”
She’s doin’ a decent job at this tough-girl act she’s been on lately, but the blush gives her away.
“Maybe you shouldn’t wander where you don’t belong.”
Her arms cross. “Are you gonna help me grab these eggs, or do you only lend a hand during your special visits?”
She pushes me like she forgot who I am.
Brave girl.
I shouldn’t care that she saw. Shouldn’t care how long she stood there. But I do.
She watched me like she was intrigued. Maybe even into it.
My brother’s ex.
Now that’s messy.
A corner of my mouth lifts. “Why don’t you start walkin’ to the coop, smart mouth.”
We head toward the chickens. She keeps pretending not to look my way—and she’s failing.
“You know,” she says, “men in Weston… shocker! They’re all the same.”
“That so?” I kick a bit of straw out of my path. “World wouldn’t survive two of me.”
“I can just barely handle the one,” she fires back. “Now I’m stuck with that—” She waves a hand vaguely in my direction. “—mental trauma.”
I grin even though I know I ought to back off.
Trouble’s ex. Off-limits. End of story.
But her expression from a minute ago is stuck in my head, and apparently I make bad decisions when I’m curious.
“Still thinkin’ about me, huh? See something you like in there?”
“Actually, I’m thinking about bleaching my eyeballs,” she snaps.
We reach the coop, and I push the screen door open, nodding for her to go first. She hesitates—barely—then lifts her shoulders and walks in like she knows what she’s doing.
She reaches for an egg, way too close to a bad-tempered hen. The bird flaps, feathers snapping, and she jerks back with a yelp.
I step in behind her—my chest against her back—and slide one arm around her waist to steady her. My other hand covers hers completely, guiding it toward the nest.
She goes still, but the pulse on her neck is jumping.
"Easy," I whisper against her ear, letting my lips brush the shell. "They can sense when you're nervous."
She carefully grabs an egg.
I lean in closer, lowering my voice to something rougher, darker. “Or when you’re still a little worked up from something you just saw.”
Her inhale stutters. She snatches a few more eggs like she’s punishing them.
“Can we please just go now?”
I smile—slow, knowin’.
Hell. This little game might be more fun than I thought.
Mama’s kitchen is the only place in the county where you can get a slice of pie with a side of locally sourced drama. She’s pouring herself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc first thing after I walk in, and it’s not the cheap stuff either. Which means she’s trying to impress someone.
Fisher’s already at the table, feet swinging two inches off the floor, eyes glued to the first plate she’s set out. That kid can smell food from a quarter mile, and the second he sees me, he grins wide. “Dad! Nana made that dip you like.”
“About time she made it,” I say. I don’t look at Mama, but I can feel her smile.
Rogue is leaning against the kitchen island, one foot tucked under him, scrolling his phone. He glances up, gives me a slow once-over, and smirks.
“Just swung by your place, D. Where you been?”
“Around.”
Winnie coughs into her wine.
Rogue’s brow jumps. “Uh-huh. Always the mysterious one, brother.”
“Mysterious is way too cool of a label for him,” Charming says. “What am I? The best-looking one?”
Trouble strolls in with Sawyer, clapping Charming on the back. “Best looking? Boy, the only thing you’re known for is ridin’ with an ego big enough to need its own chute.”
“I like to call it confidence,” Charming calls from the fridge.
Winnie looks up at Trouble. Trouble looks down at her.
And there it is.
Not dramatic. Not loud. Just a quiet, awkward second where two people who used to know each other differently try to figure out where to put their eyes now.
“Hey, Win,” Trouble says, easy but not too easy.
“Hey,” she answers, soft, polite. Careful.
Sawyer and her golden-retriever heart doesn't hold back. She quickly pulls Winnie into a hug like there’s no history here at all.
I hear they’ve been hangin’ out, but my guess is, Trouble hasn’t been in the picture much when they do.
“Oh my gosh, your hair looks SO good like that,” Sawyer gushes, stepping back to admire her. “I swear you make the rest of us look like we tried too hard.”
Winnie laughs. “I just threw it up.”
“So unfair,” Sawyer says brightly.
I watch the whole thing from my chair, arms folded. The way Winnie braced for impact when she first walked in. The way she relaxes a notch when Sawyer hugs her. The way Trouble gives her space. Not cold. Not exactly warm. Just careful.
Mama clears her throat and shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she checks the oven. The place smells like melted butter and rosemary. I slip into the seat next to Fisher, ruffle his hair, and say, “You helping or just taste-testing everything first?”
“I have to make sure it’s safe,” he says all innocent, but his lips are already shining from garlic oil.
Benson Bone, the family dog, is stretched out on the rug, head flat, snoring so hard the tile vibrates. He’s technically not allowed at the table, but Fisher slips him food when he thinks no one’s looking. Mama sees, but all she does is roll her eyes.
We eat, and it’s exactly what you’d expect: chaos, too loud, things passed around the table with no warning.
Fisher asks if he can have wine too, and I say, “When you can reach the faucet without a stool, we’ll talk.”
Mama stands and starts collecting plates, shooing us all away when we try to help. “You all go on, I’ll handle this.”
Fisher gets up to help anyway, gathering forks and stacking them with both hands. He’s got this delicate way of trying so hard to do things right that sometimes it makes me worry. I have the opposite. I don’t care about pleasing anyone.
Once the table’s cleared, Fisher turns to me, his face serious. “Can I stay at Nana’s tonight? In my room here?”
I give him a look. “Nana probably needs a break from you.”
“Please?” He stretches the word.
Mama smiles, softer than before. “Of course you can, baby. Go get cleaned up.”
He disappears down the hall, and Mama and I are left in the kitchen.
She leans against the counter, watching me like she’s been building up to this.
“You know you’re allowed to have some fun, right?”
I snort. “Fun? What the fuck is that? ...Respectfully.”
She gives me that mama look. “It’s a Friday. Go out with your brothers tonight.”
“I don’t like to go out.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly. “I’ve noticed.”
She pats my arm, firm enough to say she means it. “You never got to be a kid. Never even got to be a young adult. Always jumpin’ in front of everybody else’s trouble.”
“I gotta work early.”
“And? Life’s not gonna stand around waitin’ for you to get off the clock.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Because arguing with her is like arguing with the weather.
She softens, reaching for my sleeve like she did when I was ten. And all of a sudden, I’m not in the kitchen anymore.
I’m barefoot in my childhood bedroom, night light buzzing, my brothers stacked behind me scared to death. The front door is still shaking from when he slammed it. His truck is already screaming down the drive like he didn’t just wreck everything he left behind.
Mama’s on the kitchen floor, crying quiet so we won’t hear it—like that ever worked.
I peek out just enough to see the blood, to see her shaking.
I don’t cry. There isn’t time for it. I herd my brothers to bed, tuck them in as calm as I can, telling them everything’s going to be fine once they wake up in the morning. They believe me because I’m the oldest—and that feels like the cruelest lie to tell.
Then I go back for her. I soak a towel in cold water, clumsy and desperate, wiping her face the way I’ve seen grown-ups do, trying to make her look like herself again.
I don’t know what I’m fixing—I just know I can’t leave her like that.
Then I find another towel, pack it with ice, and press it close to her.
I keep whispering that it’s okay in a voice that doesn’t belong to a ten-year-old, hoping if I say it enough times, it’ll be true.
I don’t know what okay is. I just know I have to pretend I do.
That was how I learned how to be older than I was.
Her fingers are still on my sleeve. “You hear me?” she asks gently.
I nod, because I always nod.
“Fisher loves bein’ here. He’s fine. You”—she taps my chest—“need to remember you’re allowed a little happiness too.”
I shake my head. “Ain’t lookin’ for happiness.”
“No,” she sighs, “but it’s lookin’ for you. And it’s gettin’ tired of you hidin’.”
I grunt, heading for the back door before she can get any mushier.
“Danger!” Mama calls as I pull it open.
I pause.
“Enjoy yourself, baby. And if you haven’t noticed, there’s been a cute helper on our ranch lately who seemed to have her eyes on you at dinner.”
I tilt my head, jaw tightening. “Mama… she’s Trouble’s ex. Don’t go there.”
She laughs softly, tilting her head. “Maybe there’s a reason it didn’t work out. She’s a good girl, good family. Stunning, actually.”
I shake my head. “She’s too young.”
“Hadn’t noticed. Are you tryna convince me, or yourself?” she yells out.
I don’t stick around long enough to argue. The door swings shut behind me, the porch creakin’ under my boots.
Mama thinks she knows everything, but she’s dead wrong about this one.
Winnie isn’t the woman in town any of us should be worried about. Hell, she’s the last thing I need on my plate right now.
What I haven’t told Mama—what I don’t want her stressin’ over yet—is that someone else is back. Someone who has every reason in the world to show up on this ranch and blow my life clean apart.
I need time to figure out what Rylee really wants… whether she’s really here for the reasons she said, here to stir shit, or here to take Fisher.
Rylee. A woman who can ruin everything.