Chapter 14
fourteen
COLT
I brought the axe down, burying the heavy steel head deep into the oak log. It split with a sharp, satisfying crack. Tossing the halves into the growing pile, I grabbed another piece of timber, ignoring the bite of the Monday morning wind against my neck.
My muscles burned. It was a good, punishing ache. The repetitive strain was the only thing keeping my head from spiraling out of control.
Swing. Crack. Toss.
I survived. Easton didn’t. Stay useful. Stay in the shadows. Men like you don’t get soft things.
The mantra played on a loop, driving the axe down again and again.
But the physical labor wasn’t working as penance today.
It wasn’t driving her out of my head. Every swing dragged me right back to Julia.
The memory of her small fist twisting in the fabric of my Henley hit me with the force of a bronc kicking the chute.
The ghost of her cheek dragging over my stubble lingered on my skin.
I could still feel the phantom shape of her hips under my hands—the way my fingers had dug into her curves before I had forced myself to let her go.
My jaw ground hard enough to ache. I was choking on a jealousy I hated myself for feeling.
Later that night, I had smelled her dark, honeyed arousal saturating Stetson’s clothes.
And yesterday, when she came back from town with Boone, she was glowing and happy, covered in Boone’s vanilla and smoke.
My Alpha was practically clawing at the inside of my ribs to claim her, demanding I overwrite their marks with my own.
But guilt kept me locked down. Jealousy required believing I had a right to her, and I didn’t.
I refused to taint a woman like her with my ghosts.
“Colt.”
The sharp bark of my name broke my rhythm. I lowered the axe and turned. Stetson strode around the corner of the barn, his jaw tight and his gait radiating tense distraction. He stopped a few feet away, pushing his hat back on his head.
“A main water line busted in the south pasture,” he said, skipping the preamble. “Total mess. Gideon, River, and Ransom are already hauling equipment out there, and Boone is covering the morning feed. I need you to take Wyatt and Sunny to school.”
My stomach immediately plummeted. I hated the school drop-off line.
I hated the pitying looks the town mothers aimed at the jagged scar running down my side, the hushed whispers about Easton, the judgmental murmurs about Wyatt and his “broken” family.
But I nodded, because I was useful, and useful men didn’t argue.
“Yeah,” I rasped, burying the axe head securely into the stump. “I’ve got them.”
Stetson gave me a grim nod and turned back toward the pasture. I wiped the sweat from my brow, grabbed my flannel from the fence rail, and headed inside.
The mudroom smelled of spilled cereal and frantic mornings.
I stepped into the hallway, where the chaos was already fully underway.
Wyatt stood by the door, his backpack on both shoulders, holding his spelling list with the serious, unwavering focus as got some last minute cramming in.
A few feet away, Sunny was in full meltdown-adjacent mode, singing some half-made-up song at the top of her lungs while aggressively trying to jam her left shoe onto her right foot.
“Other foot, Sunshine,” I murmured, dropping to one knee in front of her. I gently took the shoe from her hands, loosened the straps, and guided her correct foot inside without making a production out of it.
“It’s a tricky shoe today,” she informed me solemnly.
“Sure is,” I agreed, my voice dropping to a low, patient register. “You just gotta show it who’s boss.”
I glanced over at my nephew. “Spelling list tucked away, buddy?”
“Yes,” Wyatt said firmly, tapping the backpack he’d tucked it inside. “I know all ten.”
“Good man.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. I stood up, bracing myself before I even turned around.
Julia appeared in the hallway wearing a thick, cream-colored cardigan over a soft shirt and her sparkly cowgirl boots.
She looked town-ready and effortless, but my Alpha bristled.
Her natural, heady scent was smothered under the clean, non-descript layer of her homemade scent-canceling lotion.
I didn’t hate that she wore it; I hated the brutal, unforgiving world that made her feel like she had to.
“Hey,” she said, her brown eyes scanning the busy scene before landing on me. “Mind if I tag along? August told me he got a notification that craft supplies he overnighted have arrived at the post office. I figure I can grab them after we drop the kids off.”
My mouth went bone dry. Forty minutes in the cab of the truck with her, surrounded by the kids, unable to escape her orbit. I swallowed hard and gave a single, tight nod. “Let’s go.”
We filed out the door. I strapped Sunny into her car seat in the back of the crew cab while Wyatt climbed into the spot behind my driver’s seat. Julia slid into the passenger side, pulling the door shut.
The drive toward Coldwater Creek was anything but quiet.
Sunny resumed her song, oblivious to the coiled tension radiating from my side of the bench.
I kept my eyes locked on the road, angling my body slightly toward the driver’s side window, actively maintaining the physical distance I required to keep myself from doing something stupid.
Julia didn’t push. She asked Wyatt about his day, which subjects were his favorite, and what Boone had packed him for lunch, keeping the cab lively enough to cover the heavy silence coming from me.
“What’s your hardest word today?” I asked Wyatt quietly, catching his serious green eyes in the rearview mirror.
“‘Neighbor’,” he recited dutifully. “N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R.”
“You missed that one on Thursday,” I reminded him, my tone even and prompting. “Remember the rule we talked about?”
“I before E, except after C, or when sounding like A, as in neighbor and weigh,” Wyatt replied, sitting up a little straighter.
“You got it. You’re all set.”
Behind Julia, Sunny aimed a hard kick at the back of the passenger seat.
“Hey,” I called out, my voice maintaining that low, steady rasp. “Keep your boots off the leather, Sunny. We treat our ride with respect.”
She dropped her legs. “Sorry, Papa Colt.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Julia watching me.
The sharp edges she usually kept raised around me had vanished, leaving her expression open as she studied the quiet way I managed the kids.
I could feel her tracking the contradiction, taking me apart piece by piece.
I knew exactly what she was seeing—a man deeply embedded in his pack, yet angling his shoulders away, keeping himself locked in the shadows like he didn’t deserve to warm his hands by her fire.
Her gaze lingered on my profile, and I let her look.
I let her wonder about the deliberate distance I kept between us.
But she didn’t ask. And I didn’t turn my head.
We pulled into the school parking lot. The elementary and preschool programs shared the same brick building, and the drop-off line was already a mile long.
I bypassed the queue, pulling into a visitor spot instead.
Sunny still needed to be walked all the way to her classroom aide, and I wasn’t about to send her across the asphalt alone.
I cut the engine, the sudden lack of noise making my chest tighten all over again.
I moved automatically, falling into the routine that didn’t require me to think.
I unbuckled Sunny, lifting her out of the truck when she got distracted by a butterfly flitting nearby and started singing to it.
I grabbed her small, brightly colored backpack and threw it over one shoulder, checking Wyatt’s folder one last time to make sure his spelling list was tucked securely inside.
Julia walked beside us toward the wide glass entrance of the school.
She stayed close enough to be with me, but not once did she try to hide behind my bulk.
She watched the way I kept one hand hovering just inches behind Sunny’s shoulders to guide her, without ever crowding Wyatt’s fiercely guarded independence.
The morning rush was in full swing. Minivans idled, teachers waved, and the cool morning air smelled of exhaust and dewy pavement. Wyatt peeled off first toward the elementary lineup. He gave me a single, serious nod, adjusting his backpack straps.
“Knock ‘em dead, buddy,” I told him.
We continued to the preschool doors, where an exhausted-looking aide stood with a clipboard.
Sunny demanded one last, crushing hug from me, nearly knocking my hat off, before turning to Julia and throwing her short arms around her waist as well.
Julia returned the hug effortlessly, smoothing the little girl’s wild curls before the aide ushered Sunny inside.
I braced myself to turn back toward the parking lot, ready to retreat to the safety of the ranch. But the universe wasn’t going to let me off that easily.
Melissa Lawson stepped directly into our path near the edge of the concrete walkway.
She was the county gossip, a professional concern-troll, and a passive-aggressive nightmare wrapped up in expensive clothes and pristine leather boots.
She smiled like we were old friends running into each other at church, but her gaze didn’t hold a shred of warmth.
Her eyes flicked first to Julia, taking note of the clothing she wore that was just as pristine and her obvious lack of scent, before dragging her attention over to me.
Her stare deliberately lingered on the jagged, raised scar carving through the left side of my jaw and neck.
The sickening, heavy wave of pity rolled off her in spades.
“Colt,” Melissa chirped, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. For a Beta, she had no tact or softness at all. “Goodness, it’s been ages. And this must be the Double T’s new OMA placement.”
I set my jaw, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “Melissa.”