Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
LINC
The highway stretched out, straight and dusty, with Montana lazily rolling beside us.
The morning sunlight sat low and warm on the horizon, and the sky seemed endless.
Kristin’s truck rumbled beneath me, trailer in tow, every bump and dip rattling my teeth a little more than I liked.
The steady hum of the diesel filled the silence, rhythmic and constant, as I kept my eyes on the road with hands firmly gripping the wheel.
The sun hit the cracked windshield just right, illuminating the dust dancing inside the cab.
She sat in the passenger seat, knees pulled slightly up, a blanket wrapped around her legs.
Her injuries made her wince with each jolt from the trailer, every breath that caught, even when she thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted to reach over, brush a strand of hair from her face, make her laugh to distract her from the aches, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet. Not until we were safely home.
The smell of stale coffee lingered in the cab, mingling with her shampoo, a sweet and clean scent that cut through the grit of diesel and road dust. Her hair was a little tangled, her cheeks still pale from pain and exhaustion, but she was the most alive thing I’d seen in years.
I kept my eyes on the highway, but I caught glimpses of her reflection in the side window, the rise and fall of her chest, and the way her fingers twisted at the edge of the blanket.
Silence settled between us, heavy with everything unspoken.
The kind of silence that wasn’t empty but weighted, like a storm waiting to break.
I stole glances when I thought she wasn’t looking, taking in the curve of her jaw, the tense set of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together when she stared out at the horizon.
Goddamn it, she still had me. She always had me.
“Your ribs, okay?” I asked finally, keeping my voice low, not wanting to startle her.
She turned, eyes narrowing. “They’re fine,” she muttered, voice clipped, clearly trying not to admit how bad it hurt. Her chin lifted stubbornly, the same way it always had when she was determined to hide pain.
“Right,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Because you’re never subtle about anything, Kristin. That’s why I noticed the grimace before you even opened your mouth.”
She smirked faintly, a ghost of her old self. “Some habits die hard. And I’m sore. Obviously. You don’t have to narrate it like a damn rodeo announcer.”
I grinned despite myself. “Announcer? Nah. Just worried I might have to patch you up again if you collapse mid-road.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and calculating, before darting back to the window. “You’d fix me, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” I said, though I didn’t move closer. “Though you’d probably tell me to leave.”
She laughed softly, quiet enough to make me want to lean across the console and kiss that sound out of her. “I’d probably do more than tell you. But you’d do it anyway.”
That pull between us, the one I’d thought I’d buried, twisted hard in my gut. The road stretched long ahead, and the air inside the cab felt charged, the kind of static that made your skin prickle. I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes back to the road. It was safer that way.
“Do you ever think about,” she began hesitantly, “everything we left unsaid?”
Her voice was soft, barely there, but it hit me like a fist.
“All the time,” I admitted quietly. My hands clenched the wheel tighter. “More than I’d like.”
She exhaled softly, leaning back, the blanket slipping slightly. Her ribs caught the seatbelt, and I winced for her. “You make it sound tragic,” she muttered, turning her gaze back toward the endless hills.
“It is,” I said, the truth flowing easier than I expected. “And it’s mine. All mine. Even after three years, even after everything.”
Her gaze flicked to mine again, longing and defiance tangled in her eyes. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Me? Never.” I smirked, though my chest tightened with everything we weren’t saying.
The miles ticked by, punctuated by quiet sighs from Kristin, small shifts in her seat, and the occasional scrape of the trailer hitch over rough asphalt. I tried to make conversation, anything to keep the tension from snapping.
“Remember that time you tried to teach Lady to jump that little fence at the Diamond’s old arena?” I asked. “And she nearly took off with you?”
She rolled her eyes, a playful grimace crossing her face despite the soreness. “Don’t remind me. I nearly ended up in the hospital before your charming self-decided to show up and save me.”
“Saved you? You were screaming bloody murder, not subtle at all, but yeah, I guess I did.”
Her hand brushed mine briefly as she reached for the blanket again. The touch was barely there, but I felt it. That small contact ignited something I hadn’t wanted to feel until we were home. My pulse kicked, hard, and I shifted slightly, careful not to let it show.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said suddenly, eyes flicking to mine. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” I said, voice low. “Just making sure you survive this trip without passing out on me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s comforting.”
“Maybe,” I said, tone low, the corner of my mouth lifting. “Depends on your definition.”
She laughed softly, almost against herself, the sound fragile and warm. “You’re crazy.”
“Maybe. But you still like me,” I said, letting the words hang heavier than I intended.
Her lips parted as if to respond, then she looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. I could feel the tension coil tighter between us, the mixture of her soreness, the leftover adrenaline from the rodeo, the pull between us, and the quiet intimacy of hours spent together in a confined space.
“You think you’re in charge, huh?” she whispered, almost teasing, but her voice trembled.
“Depends on the day,” I said. “Today, I might be.”
She shifted closer under the blanket, letting her knee brush mine. My hand twitched, nearly reaching for hers, but I stopped. Not yet. Not until we got to Montana.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky with orange and violet hues, the light spilling across her face.
Her skin looked soft again, not the pale, frightened version I’d carried out of that trailer.
The truck’s headlights illuminated the endless road, the trailer swaying slightly behind us.
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick with promise.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly after a long pause.
“Yeah, me too.”
Her fingers brushed mine again, lingering longer this time. Heat pooled low in my stomach. She gave me a look that was part challenge, part plea, part acknowledgment of the pull between us.
The miles ticked by. Every glance, every brush of skin, every quiet word was a countdown to the explosion waiting at the ranch.
The driveway to the ranch stretched under the headlights, long and familiar, ruts packed hard by years of weather and work.
The smell of pine drifted in through the cracked window.
Kristin stiffened beside me, her hip still throbbing with every bump.
I slid a hand subtly to her waist, letting her lean in fractionally.
Her body trembled, exhaustion settling in, but she didn’t pull away.
The main house came into view, warm lights spilling across the yard. The glow of the porch lamps reached across the gravel like a welcome sign, though I knew it would feel more like a spotlight. Eight figures stood on the porch, shadows waiting, and this was not the subtle arrival I was hoping for.
Kristin’s fingers brushed mine. A pleading touch. I squeezed back, silent reassurance as I pulled to a stop. The truck idled, engine ticking.
“Welcome home,” Ryder said as I climbed out of the truck. I didn’t stop to talk to him. I just nodded and rounded the front of the truck.
“Let me help you,” I said as I helped Kristin out of the truck. We hadn’t stopped for a while, so not only was she sore, she was stiff too. She moved carefully, her face pinched tight against the pain, and I caught her elbow before she could stumble.
“Thanks.” Her unsure, small voice wasn’t something I was used to hearing. She clung to me as she found her footing. All eyes were on her.
Nora’s happy smile faltered and softened into sympathy for her friend.
Lexie looked like she was ready to launch herself at me for hurting her, and I’d probably let her.
Elle’s brain was working overtime, assessing Kristin and her injuries before her gaze landed on my face.
Her brow furrowed, and her eyes locked on my split lip.
Fallon clung to Nash, and I suspected she knew exactly what a fall like Kristin’s would take to heal, both physically and mentally.
“Come on, boys, let’s get these horses settled in,” Kipp said, his voice cutting through the tension like a butter knife.
“Need me to help you into the house?” I asked quietly.
“I’ve got her, Linc. See to the horses,” Elle said as she moved to stand on the other side of my wife. I nodded and watched her walk gingerly into the house.
Before I had a chance to turn around, the trailer door swung open, and I saw Griff disappear into the trailer. His soft words to the horses in the back were indistinguishable, but they unloaded with ease, hooves thudding against the packed dirt. We all headed to the barn.
“So, married?” Nash asked, tasting the word as if it were something bitter. “What happened?”
“It’s private,” I said smoothly. “We handled things our way.”
Griff was silent until now, finally speaking as he led Lady into her stall. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“It wasn’t exactly planned,” I said as I brushed Lady down.
Her coat shone under the soft barn light, and the simple act of caring for her brought me a sense of grounding.
The smell of hay and dust, the sound of steady breathing, the routine of it all, it helped quiet the chaos that still lived under my skin.
“I don’t even know what to say right now. But congratulations, I suppose.”
Kipp finally smirked, a subtle shake of the head.
“You’re going to have to answer questions.
Soon.” He stood at the end of the stall, his arms crossed.
I waited for more. He’d always been the unofficial leader of the Five, mostly because he could keep control of his rage and temper. The rest of us weren’t that in control.
“When she’s ready, I will.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryder straighten and clench his jaw. It wasn’t hard to see the bruising on her arms, the marks that couldn’t be explained away by her fall. All the guys noticed. They didn’t speak, but they knew.
We went back to making sure the horses were good after the trip we’d just survived. The air was cool in the barn, heavy with quiet understanding.
Silently, we all headed for the house. The porch light glared bright against the dark, and through the open kitchen window, I could already hear raised voices. Lexie’s sharp tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Seriously, Krissy, what would possess you to marry Linc? I mean, you’ve been gone for three years. And as far as I know, you haven’t even spoken to him. Do you have any idea how much of a mess he was when you left? What are you even thinking?”
I pulled open the screen door and walked into the kitchen without taking off my boots. All eyes turned to me, and I stared into Kristin’s pained face. White-hot anger coursed through my veins.
“Lexie, when you showed back up here, I seem to remember I was the only one who didn’t question you. Welcomed you with open arms and stood beside you when the rest of them had things to say. I’d appreciate the same courtesy, if not for me, then maybe for my wife?”
My words came out as harsh as I’d intended.
I didn’t care, but I didn’t miss the shift of Kristin’s eyes toward me when I called her my wife.
That right there was worth this tension with my best friends and their wives.
Nobody needed to worry about this. This was my fight, and I wasn’t about to lose.