Chapter 8 Caleb
CALEB
After breakfast, I walked them to the main house. Mama Mae’s kitchen was chaos. Men wandered in and out, grabbing coffee, arguing about fence repairs, talking over each other. It was the kind of normal noise that almost made it possible to forget danger existed.
Lucas hovered at the edge like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Then one of the younger guys tossed him a football without warning. Lucas fumbled it, then caught it against his chest, his eyes wide.
“You want to toss the ball around?” another one asked.
Lucas glanced at Marisol. She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. He jogged over to the side yard, where a handful of the guys I’d grown up with started tossing the ball around like they’d been waiting for a kid to show up.
Marisol’s shoulders sagged, and the relief in her expression made my throat go tight.
Mama Mae slid up beside her, pressing a mug into her hand. “Have some coffee.”
Marisol blinked. “Thank you.”
“You sleep any, sugar?” Mama Mae’s eyes flicked to me, then back to her.
Marisol let out a shaky breath. “Some.”
“Good. Now let’s sit a spell and you can tell me what happened in Valor Springs.”
Marisol froze.
I stepped forward. “Mae.”
Mama Mae lifted a hand without looking at me. “I’m not asking to satisfy curiosity, boy. I’m asking because I run this ranch and I protect what’s mine. If trouble followed you here, I want to know what shape it might come in.”
Marisol looked at me like she was asking permission.
I nodded once.
So she sat down on one of the old rocking chairs next to Mama Mae and told her.
She didn’t cover every detail and didn’t mention what had happened between the two of us.
But she shared about Lucas’s job and how he’d found himself in way over his head.
Then the convoy, the attempted intercept, and how we’d fled in the middle of the night.
Mama Mae listened without interrupting, her face going hard and still in that way that made me understand why grown men feared her.
When Marisol finished, Mama Mae reached over and squeezed her hand. “You did what you had to do.”
Marisol’s eyes filled. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“That’s because you’re still in it,” Mama Mae said. “Give it time. The fear’s going to catch up. When it does, you let it. You don’t swallow it and pretend you’re fine.”
Marisol nodded, her throat working.
Mama Mae’s gaze shifted to me then. “And you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You keep running this the way you started,” she said. “Tight. No gaps. No hero nonsense.”
I held her stare. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And,” she added, her voice softer, “don’t forget you’re allowed to be human too.”
That one hit harder and deeper than the rest.
Mama Mae stood, wiping her hands. “I’m putting Owen with Lucas today. The rest of the ranch is covered. If someone so much as sneezes at the property line, we’ll hear it.”
Marisol whispered, “Thank you.”
Mama Mae smiled. “Honey, you don’t thank me yet. You just eat and breathe and let my boys do what they do.”
She walked off, already barking a question at someone about feed deliveries.
Marisol stared after her, stunned.
I let out a soft laugh. “She’s intense, but she means well.”
“I can tell,” she said. Her voice went soft. “I’ve never had anyone mean well like that.”
Something in my chest twisted. I wanted to touch her. Pull her close. Remind her she wasn’t alone now. But the kitchen was full of eyes, and I didn’t trust myself not to claim her in front of everyone. I couldn’t. That would mean letting down my guard again and I wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Instead, I held out my hand. “Come on. I promised Lucas a horse.”
Marisol rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted as she slid her palm into mine.
The pasture was still damp with morning dew when I led them toward the corral.
Lucas practically vibrated, excited and nervous and trying to act like he wasn’t.
Owen walked next to him, easy and watchful, tossing him a few calm instructions like it was the most natural thing in the world to keep a kid safe on a ranch.
Marisol hung back. “I told you I don’t ride.”
“You can,” I said. “I’d never put you on a horse that won’t take care of you.”
Her gaze flicked to mine. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I won’t let you fall.”
She bit down on her lower lip while I brought out a gentle mare. For Lucas, I picked a gelding that followed people like a dog and didn’t spook at anything.
Lucas stared up at the horse. “He’s huge.”
“He’s not,” I said. “You’re just small.”
Owen laughed. Lucas flipped him off without thinking, then glanced at Marisol like he’d done something wrong.
She lifted a hand to hide her smile.
I hoisted Lucas into the saddle and adjusted his stirrups. “Hands low. Heels down. You listen to Owen.”
Lucas nodded, serious now.
Then I turned to Marisol. She stood next to the mare, her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to run.
I stepped close enough that she could hear me without anyone else catching it. “You trust me.”
Her breath caught. Not because I’d said it like a question. Because I’d said it like it was already true.
She swallowed. “I trust you.”
“Then put your foot in the stirrup.”
Her hands shook a little as she obeyed.
I steadied her at the waist, lifted her with no effort at all, and settled her into the saddle. For a second, my hands stayed at her hips longer than they needed to. Her body went still. The air between us tightened.
I eased away before I did something stupid. “Hold the horn if you need to.”
She nodded, chin lifted like she was determined not to be scared.
Lucas watched us with narrowed eyes. “Are we going or what?”
I almost smiled.
We rode out slow, the horses walking along the fence line, the morning light turning the pasture gold.
Lucas relaxed fast, his posture loosening as the horse carried him like it was nothing.
He even laughed when Owen made a dumb joke.
Marisol blinked hard and looked away, wiping at her cheek like she’d gotten dust in her eye.
I rode slightly ahead, letting them have space, but never far enough that I couldn’t reach them in seconds. That was the trick. Protect without smothering. Lead without controlling.
Marisol watched the land the way someone watched a movie they didn’t believe was real. Her shoulders lowered little by little. She took a deeper breath.
At one point, she called out, “Caleb.”
I turned my horse toward her. “Yeah?”
Her eyes were bright. “I didn’t know it could be this quiet.”
“It’s quiet,” I agreed, “until it isn’t.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Of course you’d say that.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“No,” she admitted. “You’re not.”
Lucas rode up next to her then, grinning like he’d forgotten everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks. “This is awesome.”
Marisol smiled back. “Yeah. It is.”
The tightness in my chest eased. This was why I’d brought them here. Not just for safety. For this. For a morning where Lucas could laugh and Marisol could breathe and the world didn’t feel like it was closing in.
We turned back toward the ranch after an hour, Lucas sun-warmed and chattering, Marisol’s cheeks flushed from wind and light and something that looked like it bordered on actual happiness.
When we reached the corral, Owen helped Lucas down, and Lucas immediately started talking about riding again tomorrow.
Marisol slid off her horse more slowly. When her boots hit the ground, she swayed.
I stepped in, catching her elbow. “You okay?”
Her laugh was breathless. “My thighs are going to hate me.”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my mouth. “You did good.”
She looked at me then, and something unguarded passed through her expression. Gratitude, yes. But also want. The kind she tried to hide. The kind she couldn’t fully bury anymore. I let my hand linger at her elbow. Just a second too long. Then I forced myself to step back and keep my distance.
By late afternoon, Lucas was wiped. He passed out on the bunk bed right after dinner with his shoes still on. Marisol sat on the edge of his bed, watching him sleep like she needed proof he was really there. I leaned in the doorway to check on both of them.
She looked up me and whispered, “I almost lost him.”
The words came out raw, stripped down.
I walked into the room and crouched down next to her. “You didn’t.”
“But I could have,” she said, her voice cracking. “If I’d been smarter. If I’d seen it sooner. If I hadn’t…” She trailed off.
The words she didn’t say hit me harder than the ones she had. If she hadn’t let herself need me. If she hadn’t let herself touch me.
I reached for her hand and held it. “But you got him out. Damn, Marisol, you’re braver than half the guys I served with overseas.”
She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t feel brave.”
“Brave people never do,” I said.
She turned toward me, and the sound she made was small and broken. Like she’d been holding her breath for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. I pulled her into my chest. She clung to me immediately, her arms tight around my waist, cheek pressed into my shoulder. Her whole body shook.
I held her like I was built for it. Not as a guard. Not as an assignment. As the man who couldn’t stop wanting her even when he knew better.
When her breathing finally slowed, she whispered against my shirt, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re surviving,” I said. “One hour at a time.”
She lifted her head. Her eyes were red and wet, her mouth soft from crying. “And you?”
I swallowed. “I’m doing my job.”
Her gaze held mine. “Is that all you’re doing?”
Both of us already knew the answer to that, but I wouldn’t say it out loud. Not now when Lucas’s steady breathing reminded me what mattered, what I could lose, and what I couldn’t afford.
So I didn’t kiss her. I just rested my forehead against hers for one heartbeat. “Get some rest,” I murmured.
She closed her eyes like the touch alone was enough to steady her. When I pulled away, she didn’t follow. She didn’t chase. She just sat there, hand still wrapped around mine, like she was learning how to let someone hold the weight with her.
Later that night, the ranch settled into its new normal. Trucks passed by the cabin on rotation. Boots crunched on gravel as my brothers paced the fence line. Inside, Lucas slept like he’d been starving for it.
Marisol stood on the porch, her arms wrapped around her middle, staring out at the dark pasture. I stepped up next to her. Close, but not touching.
She didn’t look at me right away. “They really will protect us,” she said.
“Yes.”
“All of them.”
“All of them,” I confirmed.
She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to accept that.”
“You don’t have to earn it,” I told her. “You’re here. That’s enough.”
Her eyes finally shifted to mine. “What happens when this is over?”
The question was quiet, but it carried everything… the line we crossed in Valor Springs… the night we spent in my bed… the fact that she was standing on my porch now, wrapped in my flannel, with my brothers on patrol outside.
I could have lied. Could have told her we’d figure it out, could have promised forever when I didn’t know what tomorrow looked like.
Instead, I said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Her mouth tightened. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one I’ve got,” I said. “Right now, your brother is safe. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly, like she was filing the words away for later. “Okay,” she whispered.
The wind lifted her hair and carried the scent of her into my space, warm and familiar.
My hands itched to pull her close. To remind her she wasn’t alone.
To remind myself too. But I didn’t. I just stood next to her, keeping watch over the land and the woman who’d somehow become the most dangerous and precious thing in my life.
She was safe now. And I knew, with a kind of certainty that scared the hell out of me, that I would burn down anything that tried to take that away.