Chapter 10
Ten
Sierra carried coffee to the man who’d turned her ranch into a fortress, wondering when she’d stopped being afraid of needing someone.
Four days of living under Rowan’s protection had transformed the Blackwood ranch into something her grandfather never would have recognized.
Security cameras perched on fence posts throughout the property, their red lights blinking steadily in the late-afternoon sun.
Motion sensors lined the perimeter, and she’d grown accustomed to the subtle crackle of radio communication from the earpiece Rowan wore constantly.
Even now, as he sat on the porch steps watching Huck practice, his posture spoke of a man ready to move at the first sign of trouble.
The changes should have felt oppressive. Instead, Sierra felt safer than she had in months.
Maybe years.
“Thought you might need this,” she said, offering him the steaming mug.
Rowan looked up from where he’d been observing Huck’s practice session, and wrapped his strong hand around the mug. “Thanks. Saxon’s due back from his perimeter check in twenty minutes, but I wanted to watch Huck.”
She smiled at that and followed his gaze to where Huck was practicing in the makeshift arena they’d set up away from the barn ruins.
Her son sat astride Jasper, her grandfather’s old quarter horse, working through tie-down roping drills with the focused intensity of someone twice his age.
The horse was twenty-three now, steady and patient, the same mount that had carried Huck safely since he was three years old.
“He’s getting good,” Rowan said, genuine admiration in his voice. “Really good.”
“Of course.” Sierra settled beside him on the steps, close enough to catch the familiar scent of his soap mixed with autumn air. “Natural talent.” She smiled up at him.
He smiled back, something warm in his eyes. So, apparently he’d forgiven her.
Now, they still struggled with how to tell Huck.
They watched in silence as Huck guided Jasper into position, rope coiled and ready. The boy’s technique was flawless—quick release, perfect loop, clean dismount to tie the calf. Even the imaginary calf he was practicing on would have been secured in record time.
“That horse moves like molasses,” Rowan said.
“Jasper keeps him safe,” Sierra said. “That’s what matters.”
“Poor kid.”
“He’s ten years old, Rowan.”
“He’s a Wallace.” Rowan’s blue eyes held hers. “Danger’s in his blood.”
The words hung between them, loaded with meaning neither was quite ready to address. Sierra’s chest tightened as she looked from Rowan to Huck, seeing the resemblance that became more obvious every day.
“We need to tell him,” she said quietly.
“I know.” Rowan’s hands tightened around the coffee cup. “I just…”
“What?” Sierra studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw.
“I don’t want to mess this up. He’s got the rodeo on Saturday, and he’s been working so hard.” Rowan sighed. “What if knowing changes everything for him?”
“What if not knowing is worse?”
Rowan was quiet for a long moment, watching Huck reset for another practice run. “You’re right. But Sierra?” He turned to face her fully. “He’s built up his dead father in his head to a sort of superhero status.” He swallowed. “What if I’m not what he wants?”
The rawness in his tone wrecked her. “Seriously.”
“I don’t want to disappoint him.”
Oh, Rowan. She put her hand on his. “He will probably be shocked, no doubt. But…he’s also going to be over the moon. He thinks you’re Superman.”
Rowan didn’t seem convinced. “He’ll know I lied to him. To you both.”
She nodded.
He turned away then and swallowed.
“That’s not all, is it?”
This time his sigh was deeper. He set down his coffee and ran a hand through his hair. “What if I’m not good at this family thing? I remember what I’m capable of. What I did to Alden.”
Sierra’s breath caught. They’d never talked about that night in detail, not really.
“He tried to press charges,” she said softly. “After you left.”
“What?” Rowan’s head snapped up. “Aw, I knew he would.”
“Alden came to see Grandpa the next day. Said you’d attacked him without provocation, that you were dangerous.
” Sierra’s voice grew stronger as she remembered her grandfather’s response.
“Grandpa told him that if he pressed charges, it would interfere with your enlistment. Said the military was probably the best thing for you at that point. I think he might have mentioned, too, that he would testify on your behalf. And perhaps he added other threats, I dunno. But no charges were filed in the end.”
His eyes widened. “Your grandfather saved me from jail.”
“My grandfather saved you from a stepfather who deserved what you gave him and more,” Sierra snapped. “But Rowan, you have to stop thinking that protecting yourself makes you like Alden.”
“You don’t understand.” Rowan’s voice roughened with old pain. “When I hit him, when I felt that power, that ability to hurt someone…” He shook his head. “I scared myself, Sierra. I wanted to keep hitting him.”
“Because he’d been hurting you for years. Because you were eighteen and finally strong enough to fight back.” Sierra reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “That doesn’t make you him.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because you’re like your dad.” The words came out with quiet certainty. “You run toward trouble to protect people, not away from it.”
Rowan looked away then, something broken on his face. “My dad died because of me.”
Sierra stared at him. “What? No, he didn’t, Rowan. It was an accident.”
“He was working with a new horse in the corral, trying to train him. Green broke, but still skittish.” Rowan’s voice grew distant, lost in memory. “I was chasing our barn cat. Stupid cat had gotten into the feed room, and I was trying to catch him before he made a mess.”
Sierra waited, sensing the weight of whatever was coming.
“I ran right into the corral without thinking. The horse spooked, reared up. Dad saw what was happening and threw himself between me and those hooves.” Rowan’s voice cracked. “Took the kick that should have been mine.”
“Rowan…”
“If I hadn’t been chasing that stupid cat. If I’d just paid attention, looked where I was going…” He shook his head. “My mom was right. If I’d just controlled myself, controlled my emotions, he’d still be alive.”
Tears pricked Sierra’s eyes. “You were eight years old. Children chase cats. Children run without looking. That’s what children do.”
“Children get people killed.”
“Fathers protect their children. That’s what fathers do.” Sierra found his gaze with hers. “Your dad didn’t die because you were reckless. He died because he loved you enough to put himself in harm’s way.”
Rowan was quiet for a long moment, staring at their joined hands.
“What if I can’t be that kind of father?” he asked finally.
“You already are.” Sierra gestured toward where Huck was practicing.
“You’ve been here six days, and you’ve already turned this place into the safest spot in three counties.
You watch him practice and your whole face lights up.
You worry about his confidence and his technique and whether telling him the truth will mess up his focus.
” She squeezed his hand. “Trust me, you’re already that kind of father. ”
He swallowed, but nodded, something raw and hopeful on his face.
They watched Huck dismount and check his imaginary time, then pump his fist in celebration.
Oh, her heart just swelled with the overwhelming desire to protect this moment forever.
“We should probably head inside soon,” Sierra said, though she made no move to stand. “I need to start dinner, and you should check in with Saxon.”
“In a minute.” Rowan’s eyes were fixed on the barn ruins visible beyond the practice area. “What are you planning to do about that?”
Sierra followed his gaze to the twisted wreckage. The skeletal remains of the structure seemed to burrow further into her soul every day.
“I don’t know,” she said. “The insurance adjuster said we’d need a bulldozer to clear the debris, but we haven’t gotten the insurance money yet…” She shrugged, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. “I guess I’ll figure something out.”
“Leave it to me.”
The simple statement carried such quiet authority that Sierra felt her chest tighten. “Rowan, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” He turned to face her, his blue eyes serious. “This is our home now. Our life. Let me handle the barn.”
Our home. Our life. The words sent warmth spreading through her chest, followed immediately by a terrible, familiar fear that tightened her throat.
“What if you change your mind?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
“About what?”
“About this. About us. About staying.” Sierra’s voice grew smaller, more vulnerable than she intended. “What if you decide this is too complicated and you just…leave?”
Rowan studied her face with those penetrating blue eyes. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. Learned behavior, I guess.” Sierra wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve always been the one people leave. My parents, then you. Mike.”
“Mike? Detective Martinelli? What does he…oh…Oh.” He drew in a breath. “Now I get why he was so protective.”
She made a face. “Yeah, we dated. When Huck was about five years old. Just for a few months, but…it didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“He wasn’t you. And he knew it, and I knew it. So, yeah…And he was pretty hurt. Said I had impossibly high standards and that I’d never be happy because I didn’t know how to let anyone help me.”
“Now I’m going to have to kill him.”
He didn’t look like he might be kidding. And his next question came out soft, a little broken. “Did you love him?”
Oh, Rowan.
“No.” The answer came easy. “I tried to. I wanted to give Huck a father, wanted to build something normal and stable. But like I said, Mike wasn’t…he wasn’t you.”
“Sierra…”