27. Danger
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
danger
If this is karma, it’s got a hell of a swing. But booze isn’t the reason my head’s wrecked this morning.
I am.
Last night, I broke the last rule I had.
The past six years I had two rules: No fucking. No feelings.
She managed to get me to do both.
She’s still here. Winnie’s bare leg is draped over my thigh like she’s known me all her life.
Her foot flexes with every breath, toes pointed all pretty and perfect.
I don’t want to shatter this moment. Not yet.
Maybe in another life this could be something I can keep, have everyday, one where I had the balls to want what I can’t have, and I’d let myself keep her.
But this one—this life—is already written.
And it never ends well for people like me.
She stirs, hair a mess, sleep still clinging to her eyes. “You awake?”
“Technically,” I say. “You snore, you know that?”
She elbows me. “Liar. I’ve been told I’m a delight to sleep next to.”
“Who told you that?”
She shrugs, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Oh, you know. It’s just been mentioned a few times. I’ve had really great reviews.”
“Funny,” I say. “I was about to file a complaint.”
She snickers, and I look at her—really look—and instantly regret it.
Last night flickers through my mind. Her hands in my hair, the taste of her skin, the sexy sounds she made right before she lost control.
I want to tell her it’s not just the memory that’s eating me alive.
It’s the fact that for one stupid, perfect night, it felt like I had a heartbeat.
I didn’t feel the pain or the agony. She took it all away.
I want her, Fisher wants her, but no matter what we want, I don’t deserve her.
I know it. She knows it. We both know this can't ever be something real.
She rolls away and reaches for her shirt, the one I practically tore off her at some point.
I stay where I am, watching as she pulls it on slowly, like she knows I’m looking.
Everything fits her just right. She stands, stretches, then glances back at me with a knowin’ smirk that says she’s well aware of the damage she’s doing.
“You want coffee?” I ask, because if I say anything else I’ll break my rules all over again.
She blinks, thrown for a second. “That’s surprisingly domestic of you.”
“I have my moments.”
I check Fisher’s room on the way to the kitchen, and he’s still asleep. I do my best to pretend I don’t notice Winnie’s eyes on my back. She wraps herself in a blanket, sits on a stool at the kitchen counter, and just… watches me.
I make the coffee, and when it’s done, I pour some into a mug and pass it to her. She wraps both hands around it and stays quiet. Even when there’s silence, it’s always comfortable with her… which is exactly the problem.
Winnie just sips her coffee, and when I catch her eye, she smiles—a real one, not her usual sharp-edged smirk. It’s almost enough to make me believe whatever this is could be something real.
But I know better.
Women leave. That’s what they do.
“What can I do?” she asks, gesturing at the coffee pot.
I shake my head. “Sit there and look pretty.”
She smiles, wrapping both hands around her mug. “Fine. Pull my leg.”
I do. Light. Just enough to feel the warmth of her. She bites her lip like she’s deciding whether to call me on it or let it slide.
Then small footsteps pad down the hall.
“Dad? Winnie?” Fisher’s voice is thick with sleep. “We ready to do morning chores?”
Winnie glances toward the hallway, already pushing back her chair. “And that’s my cue.” She pauses. “Hey—can I grab a hoodie on my way out?”
I arch a brow. “Am I gonna get it back?”
She grins, evil and sweet all at once. “Nope.”
Something loosens in my chest as I nod. “Take what you want.”
She’s already moving, Fisher trailing behind her, both of them laughing about something I don’t hear. The door shuts. And just like that, the kitchen goes quiet.
The coffee’s still warm in my hand—but whatever she left behind?
Gone.
By the time I finish a day of ranch work and get my legs burned in the practice pen, I haul my ass back to the house just before the sun goes down.
Fisher asked to stay at mama’s tonight, which means I get to enjoy a long ass, hot shower.
When I step out, the wind is picking up, rattling the windows.
There’s a storm coming. I can feel it in the way the pressure drops behind my eyes.
Part of me wants to go outside, walk into the thick of it, see what happens when it hits.
That’s what I’ve always done: run toward something I shouldn’t.
My phone vibrates on the table. I consider ignoring it, but usually someone only calls after dark if something’s up. I answer on the third buzz.
“What’s up?” I say.
“Hey, boss. Sorry to bug you. I’m posted at the south gate—you’ll never guess who just drove through.”
“I don’t have time for games. Spit it out.”
He laughs, nervous. “It’s Rylee. She’s headed your way.”
I close my eyes. “You sure?”
“Sure as shit. You want me to?—”
“No,” I interrupt. “Let her through. Thanks for the heads up.”
He hangs up.
Rylee isn’t the giving-up type. If she’s come all this way, it means she’s got something to say, and even if I had the ranch hands stop her, she’d be back. At least Fisher is at mama’s and she didn’t come when he’s out wanderin’ the ranch.
I hear her before I see her—those heels she wears are clicking against the porch boards.
There’s a second where I remember what I liked about her, back when I was too young and too stupid to know better.
She could light up a room, and she knew it.
She always wanted more, and she never cared who she had to hurt to get it.
Before she can knock, I yank the door open.
She’s standing there, hair done, makeup done, arms crossed like she knows what I’m about to say.
“What do you want, Rylee?” I don’t bother to keep the edge out of my voice.
She lets out a long breath. “I need to talk to you.”
I go to shut the door, but she jams her heel in the gap. “Don’t be an asshole, Dutton. Just—just listen, okay? It’s about Fisher.”
There’s nothing in the world she could have said to make me listen, except that.
“What about him?”
“Can I come inside?” she asks, looking over my shoulder.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “And he’s not here.”
“Please. I won’t be long. I know you don’t want me to keep coming back here. Just talk to me.”
I narrow my eyes, then give in. Might as well get this shit over with.
I hold the door open, keeping her in my line of sight. She stops in the middle of the living room. Doesn’t say a word. Her gaze drifts from the couches to the TV screen, then back again, like she’s seeing ghosts. Like she didn’t expect the past to still be standing here.
She hasn’t been here since before she left.
“Talk,” I say, leaning against the entryway.
She looks around, curious. “Where are our pictures?”
“Burned them.”
She lets out a humorless laugh then her gaze drifts to the bar area. She nods toward it. “Can I have a drink?”
“No.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m trying here. Can you not make this harder than it already is?”
I sigh, walk to the bar, and grab two glasses. I pour a little in each. Hand one over. She takes it like she needs it to keep going.
She sips, winces at the burn. “Still drink this stuff, huh?”
“It’s in my blood,” I say, watching her over the rim of my glass.
She sinks onto the couch, shoulders slumping, staring into her lap.
“I saw him, you know. Fisher. In town with PJ.”
I say nothing.
She keeps talking. “It was—God, Dutton, it was what I was most afraid of. I think I thought if I just didn’t see him, that it wouldn’t be real. My brain hid it, like trauma. But he’s beautiful. He’s perfect. You did a good job.”
I nod, still say nothing.
She looks up, mascara already smudged. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t take anything back, but I think—I think I want to know him. I don’t know if I was ever meant to be a mom, but maybe I should try to know him.”
I set my drink down. “You can’t.”
Her lips part. “What?”
“You can’t just show up, see him, and take your time deciding if you want to be a mom. He’s not a toy you can pick up when you’re bored.”
“That’s not fair,” she says, fire flickering back to life.
“Life isn’t fair. You want to know Fisher, you have to stay and be here for him. You don’t get to disappear again.”
She bites her lip, looks away. “Maybe you could both come with me.”
“We’re not going anywhere, Rylee. His life is here. He’s happy.”
“But what if I could give him a better life?”
I gesture around us. “This is his life. This is what six years of staying looks like. Early mornings. Late nights. Every scraped knee, every nightmare. All of it.” My voice stays even, but my chest burns. “One day, this will be his.”
She swallows. “What if I could give him more?”
A laugh scrapes out of me before I can stop it.
“You already decided what you’d give him,” I say. “And what you wouldn’t.”
She glares. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “You left.”
Silence.
“You’re such an ass, Dutton,” she snaps. “You always have to be in control.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But when things got hard, I didn’t disappear.”
That lands. I see it land. Low blow. I don’t care.
“So what’s your plan?” she fires back. “Keep me away forever once I leave again?”
“If I need to.”
Her hands are shaking now.
“We need a solution,” she says. “One that works for both of us.”
I meet her eyes, steady. Unmoving. “I don’t care what works for you,” I say. “I only care about him.”
She looks at me for a long time, like she’s trying to recognize the man in front of her and compare him to the one she walked away from. Like she thinks if she stares long enough, she can change the way I am now.
Then she looks away.
“I’m staying right here,” she says. “Until we figure this out.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean back against the bar.
Six years of doing this alone—and now she wants a compromise.
I say nothing.
This is going to take a while.