Chapter 23
twenty-three
Three steps left.
Pivot.
Three steps right.
Maggie paced the porch, unable to sit still despite River’s attempts to coax her into one of the Adirondack chairs.
Three steps left.
Pivot.
Three steps right.
“And that’s when I realized the horse was actually a moose.” River paused, eyebrows raised. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
“What? Sorry.” She hugged Anson’s flannel tighter around herself. “I’m just worried.”
“They’ll be back soon. Bear’s driving, and he’s the most careful man on the planet. Now if X was driving, you’d be right to worry.” He stretched his long legs out, boots crossed at the ankle. “Evan Miller isn’t exactly a hardened criminal.”
“It’s not Evan I’m worried about.” She stopped pacing to stare down the empty drive again. “It’s Anson. Being in town. Around people.”
River’s usual easy smile faded. “He told you about that, huh?”
“Not really. The girls mentioned it the other night.” She sank into the chair beside him, giving up on pacing for the moment. “Why doesn’t he leave the ranch?”
“Ah, that’s not really my story to tell, but.
..” He sighed, glancing toward the ranch entrance.
“Until this summer, Anson hadn’t voluntarily left this place in years.
Like, literally years. He was so institutionalized when he left prison that public spaces became.
.. hard for him. Too many people, too much noise, too many variables he can’t control. ”
“But he went anyway. For me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Maggie.
In the five years I’ve known him, Anson’s left the ranch exactly ten times, and four of those times were just this past summer.
I counted because what can I say? I get bored easily, and it’s so rare.
Each time was for something major—like when Nessie’s bakery burned down or when we had to track down her kid.
And each time, it damn near broke him.” River leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“He comes back shaking. Can’t talk. Sometimes can’t even make it to the forge without Walker or Boone helping him. Takes him days to get right again.”
“Oh, God.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything.”
“Of course he didn’t. He’s Anson.” River’s tone was gentle. “Look, I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you because you should know what it means that he got in that truck today. For you.”
She couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. Anson had faced his demons for her. Walked straight into his personal nightmare because she needed him to.
“Truck coming,” River said, straightening in his chair.
Maggie was on her feet before she registered moving. Bear’s black pickup rumbled up the drive, snow crunching beneath the tires. It hadn’t even fully stopped before she was down the porch steps.
The passenger door swung open, and Anson climbed out, his movements stiff. Even from twenty feet away, she could see how his hands shook, how his shoulders hunched forward like he was bracing for an attack.
She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. Just ran to him, boots kicking up snow, and threw her arms around his solid form.
For a heartbeat, he went completely rigid. Then his arms came up and wrapped around her like she might break if he held too tight. Or maybe like he might break if she pulled away. His heart hammered against her cheek, fast and hard enough that she felt it through his jacket.
She was vaguely aware of River leaving the porch and going over to talk to Bear and X, still over by the truck. Then she tuned them all out and just focused on Anson.
“I know what that cost you.” She tipped her head back to meet his gaze and didn’t try to hide the tears that blurred her vision.
He just tightened his hold and curled around her. “Worth it. Didn’t want you scared anymore.”
She pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—forge smoke and cold winter air. If she breathed in nothing else for the rest of her life, she’d be perfectly happy about that. Safe in his arms, with snow falling around them and his heartbeat gradually slowing against her ear.
“Did he delete it?” she asked finally, her voice muffled against his jacket.
“Yes. The post and all the photos.” His hands were steadier now, where they rested against her back. “Kid won’t bother you again. He was stupid but didn’t mean harm.”
“I know he didn’t, but…”
“It still scared you.”
“Yes. And I hate that Landry has turned every fan interaction into something I need to fear.”
He pulled back just enough to cup her face with his still-trembling hands. The roughness of his palms against her skin sent warmth spiraling through her. “When that asshole finds you this time, you won’t be alone.”
When.
Not if.
They all knew he was coming, and she appreciated that he didn’t try to sugar-coat it.
But standing in the snow with him, his large frame blocking the bitter wind, she felt something she hadn’t in months—truly safe.
She caught his wrists, thumbs brushing over the pulse points where his heartbeat still raced.
“Anson, I—” The words caught in her throat. How could she possibly express what it meant that he’d faced his demons for her? That he’d walked straight into his nightmare because she needed him to?
She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she rose on her tiptoes, slid her hands up to cup his face, and pressed her lips to his.
For one terrible moment, he went completely still, and she feared she’d misread everything.
Then his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer as he responded with unexpected hunger.
His beard tickled her chin as his mouth moved against hers, no longer tentative but confident, claiming.
Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading outward despite the freezing air around them.
His hand slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. The taste of him made her dizzy, or maybe that was the lack of oxygen. She didn’t care. She’d happily suffocate if it meant staying in this moment forever.
But Boone’s gruff voice shattered the moment. “For fuck’s sake.”
She pulled back, cheeks burning, though she didn’t step out of Anson’s embrace.
His arms stayed fastened around her, and she glanced over at the men gathered by the truck.
River and X were both grinning, and River gave her two thumbs up.
Bear looked faintly uncomfortable. Boone’s expression was unreadable under the brim of his Stetson.
“What?” Anson said, still staring down at her like she was a miracle.
“Walker’s called a meeting. Main house.”
A cold that had nothing to do with the Montana winter settled in Maggie’s stomach. “When?”
“Five minutes ago. I was supposed to bring you both as soon as the truck got back.” River grinned, unrepentant. “But I figured you needed a minute to, you know, reunite. Though maybe not quite that thoroughly.”
“Let’s go.” Anson kept his arm around her as they walked, and she leaned into him. The tremors had returned to his hand, but less violently now.
The main house blazed with light, every window glowing against the darkening afternoon sky.
Inside, the great room hummed with tension.
Walker stood by the fireplace, arms crossed over his broad chest. Johanna perched on the arm of his chair, her expression tense.
Ghost and Naomi huddled over a laptop at the dining table.
Jax and Nessie sat together on one end of the big sectional couch.
Jonah stood in the corner with Lila, their heads bent together in hushed conversation.
The air pulsed with barely contained urgency.
Maggie’s steps faltered at the threshold. Something had happened—something worse than Evan’s social media post.
Anson’s arm tightened around her waist, steadying her as they entered the room. Every head turned toward them. The silence that fell made her skin prickle with unease.
She settled onto the couch with Anson beside her, their shoulders touching. Tension radiated from him, and she slid her hand into his, squeezing gently before addressing the room.
“What’s going on?”
Walker glanced at Ghost, who looked up from his laptop. “Landry Whitaker used his credit card at a gas station in Billings three hours ago.”
The room tilted. Anson’s grip on her waist was the only thing keeping her upright.
“Billings is a nine-hour drive from Ogallala,” Naomi added gently. “And he’s still heading west on I-90, according to his last phone ping.”
“So the post didn’t matter. He already knew where I was.”
“Maybe not exactly, but he definitely already knew you were in Montana,” Naomi said. “Someone’s been feeding him information for weeks.”
“What?” The word tore from her throat.
“There’s a pattern to his movements.” Ghost tapped something on his laptop. “He didn’t just stumble onto your trail. He’s been following breadcrumbs.”
“Who from your circle would still be in contact with him?” Naomi asked.
“I don’t—” She stopped. And suddenly she knew without a doubt. “Taryn.”
It had to be. Before Evan’s post, Taryn was the only one who knew she had come to Montana.
Anson’s hand tightened around hers in a silent reminder that she was not alone. She appreciated more than he could ever know.
“Your producer?” Naomi asked and sat down next to Ghost, opening her own laptop.
“Yes. She knows everything. She’s the only person I told where I was going. I trusted her.” A burning ache spread from the center of her chest. “Why would she do this?”
“Money,” Ghost said flatly. “Power. Some twisted loyalty to him. People’s motivations are rarely simple.”
“Or she’s being manipulated,” Johanna added more gently. “Landry sounds like the type who knows exactly which buttons to push.”