Chapter 7
ELLA
I startle awake, choking on a scream. My lungs seize, heart thrashing against my ribs, and for a moment I don’t know where I am. The room is dark, shadows long and distorted, with sheets tangled around my legs like restraints. I shove them off, gasping, dragging a palm over my damp forehead.
Not again.
I sit up slowly, pushing my hair back, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the faint light leaking in from the hallway.
But the pressure in my chest doesn’t ease.
The nightmare clings to me like smoke—heavy, thick, and suffocating—a montage of memories that don’t belong together but always find each other anyway.
The accident when I was seventeen. The one that ended my barrel racing career before it even began. The screech of tires, the flip, the hospital lights.
Then, Zane and Ava’s car crashing seven years ago.
The phone call from the hospital that haunts me to this day.
All the blood, Ava’s screams, my own cries as I thought I’d lost both my brother and my best friend.
Even now, I swear I can still hear it—the flat line of the EKG before they brought back my brother.
And the newest one. The attempted abduction. The masked men who were here for Tessa… but took me instead. The terror, helplessness, boom of gunshots as my brothers took them out, the smell of blood and gunpowder that lingered in the house for days.
All of it blends together until I feel the walls of my room closing in. I run a hand down my face, breathing hard.
You’re awake. It’s morning. You’re okay.
I swing my legs out of bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor. Sweat clings to my skin, my shirt damp against my spine. I push myself up, stretch my fingers until they stop trembling, and cross my room to the window.
Outside, the sun is just starting to spill gold over the pastures. Horses graze quietly, tails flicking. A few ranch hands drive out toward the training grounds.
The world looks peaceful. Too peaceful.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t have time to fall apart today.
Cole is coming for a survey, and there’s the bid to prepare for.
I’m Iron Stallion’s CFO, the one who always has her shit together.
It doesn’t matter that I woke up drowning in memories or that I’ve barely slept after leaving his office last night, my body still humming, my mind replaying every moment we shouldn’t have had.
I straighten my spine. Today, I have to be normal—smile, and be the Ella they all love and admire.
By the time I’m dressed and down in the kitchen, the house is already alive with the usual Morgan chaos.
Quinn is feeding baby Oliver on one arm while trying to unlock something on her phone with the other.
Beck wanders in, shirtless, hunting for coffee, and Tessa, hair in a messy bun, laptop under one arm, is lecturing Jace about some computer program that goes over my head.
Daisy is sitting at the island coloring unicorns.
Zane has one of the calves’ milk bottles on the counter while Dad is reading the paper like the circus around him is a lullaby.
It’s loud, overwhelming, and familiar.
“Morning,” I greet, forcing a smile as I pour myself coffee.
Daisy pops up from her chair and wraps her arms around my waist. “Auntie El!”
I hug her back tightly, her warmth grounding me. “You look tired,” she mumbles against my shoulder.
I give her a small squeeze. “Just a little bad dream, sweetheart. I’m okay.”
Ava glances over, eyes narrowing the way only she can—soft, perceptive, just a little too knowing. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I lie with a smile.
But then Dad lowers his paper and gives me that look. The one that sees everything I don’t say. I turn away before he can ask anything.
“I’ve got plans with Cole today,” I mumble into my mug.
That gets everyone’s attention. Quinn pauses mid-sentence. Jace raises a brow, and Beck smirks like an idiot.
Ava’s eyes soften into something warm. “He’s coming to survey the land?”
“Mmh.”
“And you’re okay with… everything?” she adds pointedly.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Beck mutters, “Because everyone in here knows you have the hots for him,” into his coffee.
My cheeks heat. God. I hate this family sometimes.
I flick a piece of toast at his forehead. “I’ll be fine.”
I hear a truck’s engine just in time to save me from more interrogation. I peep out through the window and confirm it is indeed Cole’s truck pulling into the driveway.
I step outside just as he opens his door. The morning sun hits him full on—the broad shoulders, the sharp jaw, the shirt that clings just a little too well.
I swallow. Professional. Be professional.
But then Aria jumps out of the passenger side, and my heart softens.
“Miss Ella!” she cries, running toward me.
I crouch to catch her, scooping her into a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Daddy couldn’t find a babysitter, so he made me tag along,” she reports matter-of-factly.
Cole steps forward, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically apologetic. “I can come back later if you want. I didn’t want to bring her out here, but I didn’t have—“
“It’s fine,” I cut in gently. “Really. She can hang out with Daisy. You know Daisy, right?” I ask Aria.
She nods. “Yes, we go to the same school but in different grades.”
“Perfect. You two will have loads of fun.”
Cole’s shoulders drop in relief. He looks tired. Not physically, more emotionally. What happened between us yesterday did something to him. Something good, but terrifying. I feel the echo of it low in my belly.
He clears his throat, adjusting the strap of the equipment bag slung over his shoulder. “We should start early. Storm’s coming in later.”
I nod. “Let’s go.”
We set Daisy and Aria up at the main house first, with crayons, snacks, and supervision from Tessa, who threatens to call Jace if they misbehave, which means neither of them is going to move an inch.
Once they’re settled, Cole and I head out to survey the land and pick a spot where the proposed development site will stretch across multiple acres of untouched land.
The walk is quiet at first—comfortable, but a bit charged.
I walk beside him, hands in my jacket pockets, trying not to stare at the way his forearms flex when he rearranges equipment. He keeps glancing at me like he wants to say something but can’t decide if he should.
Eventually, he does.
“About yesterday,” he starts quietly.
My stomach flips. “I know.”
“We probably shouldn’t have—“
“Cole.” I look at him. “We’re adults. We knew what we were doing.”
He looks away, jaw tight. “Still.”
“Still what?”
He shakes his head, exhaling hard. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
I stop walking. “Screw what up?”
He doesn’t answer. Because he can’t. Because saying it out loud might make it too real.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “I’m not asking for anything from you.”
His eyes snap to mine, sharp, intense, searching. “Shiloh…”
“I mean it. We can keep it separate. Keep it clean and professional.”
He studies me for a long, heavy moment. Then he nods once, slowly, but his eyes tell a different story. Because nothing about what we did was professional or clean. And we both know it.
We’re halfway through the field survey when I hear it—an engine approaching, tires crunching gravel in a rhythm that sets every hair on my arms on edge. Cole hears it too. He stiffens, shoulders tight, posture shifting. His entire aura changes—controlled but coiled.
And then the silver truck pulls up. Calista steps out first. High heels, sunglasses, and a smirk that could curdle milk. Toby gets out next, smug, arrogant, arms crossed like he invented construction.
“Well, well,” Calista says, eyeing Cole and me like we’re the dirt beneath her feet. “Looks like we’re not the only ones running a survey today.”
She’s so delusional that she forgets that all this is mine. She’s on my turf. Cole’s jaw ticks, and I brace myself.
Toby circles the truck, stopping a few feet from us. “Didn’t know Iron Stallion was opening up the land to every contractor in town.”
I smile, polite and razor-thin. “We’re not, but you’re part of Dawson Construction, which is why you’re here.”
Quinn should have vetted her candidates more carefully.
Toby’s eyes glide over me with that same disdain I remember too well from the worst parts of ranch politics. “Interesting.”
Calista tilts her head, pretending innocence. “Cole, sweetheart, you should’ve told us you were bidding. We could’ve saved you the gas money. God knows you need it.”
I feel Cole tense beside me. He takes a step forward, but I grab his arm before he can say a word. His eyes cut to mine—furious, hot, wild. I shake my head once. Oh no. Not today. Not when the man is already stretched thin.
“Not like this,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches.
Calista raises a brow. “What was that, Cole? You have something to say?”
I squeeze his arm harder. He inhales slowly. “No,” he grunts, voice low and even. “Not a thing.”
Toby laughs under his breath. “Smart. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself.”
Cole’s entire body vibrates with restraint. I step in front of him, squaring my shoulders. “We’ll see you both at the bid submission,” I say coolly. “May the best contractor win.”
Calista smirks. “Oh, darling. We both know that’s not him.”
Cole lunges, and I shove my hand against his chest, forcing him back. “Hey. Look at me.”
He does, reluctantly, breath sharp, eyes blazing.
“Beat them the right way,” I murmur. “By winning.”
His chest heaves, fists unclench, and shoulders lower by an inch.
Toby calls out, “Try not to embarrass yourselves,” as they walk back to their truck.
I stay with Cole until they drive off, dust rising behind them. Only then do I release his shirt, my fingers lingering a half second too long. He looks at me, really looks at me, and something deep and unspoken passes between us.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
“No,” he says, honesty raw. “But I will be.”
I nod.
He exhales, glancing back at the field. “Let’s finish this.”
We get back to work, side by side, heat simmering, professional on the surface, a wildfire underneath. And for the first time in a long time, I feel something I haven’t felt in forever.
Hope.
When we’re done and walking back to the house, Cole brushes my hand with his—barely, accidentally-on-purpose—and even that tiny touch sends heat rushing up my neck. He notices, smirks at me, and I swear, I feel that look all the way down to my bones.
Today started in darkness, but it ends differently. Lighter and clearer. Because for once, I’m not the only one fighting ghosts. And for once… I’m not fighting alone.