CHAPTER 4
Jaxon
I stood on the small porch of my cottage, staring out at the dense wall of trees that surrounded me on all sides. The weathered wood beneath my boots had turned gray over the years, blending seamlessly with the rugged wilderness pressing in from every direction. Exactly how I wanted it.
Out here, there were no expectations. No questions. No pitying looks from people who thought they understood what I'd been through but didn't have a clue.
Just silence.
I'd chosen this place deliberately. A two-story cabin tucked so far back in the woods that most people on the ranch didn't even remember it existed.
Connor had offered it to me without hesitation, understanding in that way only a lifelong friend could.
No explanations required. No conditions attached.
Just a set of keys and a quiet nod that said, It's yours for as long as you need it.
I'd needed it for four years now.
The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that filtered through the canopy above.
I rose from where I'd been sitting, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles from a day spent fixing the porch railing and clearing brush.
Physical labor had become my therapy, the kind that actually worked, unlike the mandated sessions they'd made me attend after I got out.
Those doctors had meant well, I supposed.
But talking about it didn't make the memories go away.
It didn't silence the voices of the men I'd served with—the ones who hadn't made it home.
It didn't erase the betrayal that had nearly destroyed me from the inside out.
I fought to stop the thought before it could fully form, pushing down the guilt from. .. I wouldn't go there.
Work, though? Work kept my hands busy and my mind focused on something tangible. Something I could control.
I made my way around the side of the cabin to where I'd set up my chopping block, a pile of logs waiting for my attention.
The axe leaned against the weathered wall, its handle worn smooth from use.
I'd been working through this pile for days, and there was still plenty left. Good. I needed the distraction.
Shedding my shirt, I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans and gripped the axe, relishing the familiar weight in my hands.
The calluses on my palms had built up over months of this exact routine.
There was something meditative about it.
The rhythm, the focus, the satisfying crack of wood splitting clean in two.
I took a deep breath and began.
Swing. Crack. The log split perfectly down the middle.
Set up another. Swing. Crack.
My mind wandered as I worked, threading through memories I usually tried to keep locked away.
Growing up in Warren with Connor, two kids who'd somehow understood each other without needing to say much.
That friendship had been the one constant in my life, even through two tours overseas and all the shit that came during and after.
Connor offering me this cabin hadn't just been generosity—it had been a lifeline.
He'd known I needed space to figure out who the hell I was now that I wasn't a Marine anymore.
Now that the structure, the purpose, and the people I'd built my entire adult life around had been stripped away, leaving me.
.. what? A thirty-four-year-old man hiding in the woods, chopping firewood like some kind of hermit?
Yeah. That was pretty much the answer.
But out here, nobody asked questions. Nobody expected me to be okay when I wasn't. Nobody looked at me like I was broken.
I was just... alone. And for now, that was exactly what I needed.
The axe came down again, and I lost myself in the rhythm. Swing, split, stack. Swing, split, stack. The muscles in my shoulders and back burned with the effort, sweat trickling down my spine despite the cooling evening air.
This was my life now. Simple. Solitary. Safe.
Anna
The trail opened into a clearing I hadn't expected, and I pulled Choco to a gentle halt, taking in the sight before me.
A two-story cabin sat nestled among the towering pines, its weathered exterior blending so perfectly with the surrounding wilderness that I almost missed it.
Moss clung to the north side of the roof, and the whole structure carried that lived-in look of a place that had endured countless seasons.
It was rustic and isolated, the kind of place someone would choose if they wanted to disappear from the world.
Who lives all the way out here?
The rhythmic sound of chopping wood echoed through the clearing, breaking the quiet. Curiosity won out over common sense, and I urged Choco forward, guiding him around the side of the cabin toward the source of the noise.
What I found made my breath catch.
A man stood with his back to me, shirtless and glistening with sweat, wielding an axe with a precision that spoke of years of practice.
He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist. Every swing of the axe revealed the raw power in his frame, muscles flexing and releasing in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.
Dark brown hair fell just past the tips of his ears, slightly damp and sticking to his tanned skin where sweat had traced paths down his neck.
Even from this distance, I could see the definition in his back and arms. They held the kind of strength that came from hard labor, not a gym.
Military tattoos marked his skin: intricate patterns wrapping one bicep, and on his shoulder blade, a bold Marine Corps insignia with an eagle clutching a globe and anchor.
For a moment, I just stared. There was something primal about the scene—man, axe, wood, sweat. A raw energy that was both intimidating and, if I was being honest, unexpectedly attractive. In a way I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.
Heat crept up my neck, and I mentally chastised myself. Really, Anna? This is what you're doing right now? Ogling some random guy chopping wood?
I was so caught up in my own inappropriate thoughts that I didn't notice when he suddenly went still, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring.
Then he turned.
Our eyes met, and I found myself pinned by the most intense blue gaze I'd ever seen. It locked onto mine with a focus that made my breath catch for an entirely different reason. There was no warmth there. Just sharp, assessing wariness, like he was calculating whether I was a threat.
The axe hung loosely in his grip, but the way he held it made it clear it could become a weapon in an instant.
"Who the hell are you?" The words came out in a low, gravelly growl, thick with suspicion.
He took a step forward, and the blade caught the sunlight filtering through the trees, glinting in a way that sent a very clear message: Back off.
Irritation sparked in my chest, hot and immediate.
Confidence from Choco’s presence and my position in the saddle fueled me.
I'd had enough of hostile men to last a lifetime, and I sure as hell wasn't about to take it from some stranger in the woods.
Straightening in the saddle, I met his narrowed gaze with one of my own.
"I'm Anna," I said, keeping my voice calm even though my heart was pounding. "I'm staying with Connor. I was just out for a ride."
His frown deepened as his eyes swept over me suspiciously. What’s he looking for? The weapon I clearly have hidden on my horse?
"And you thought it was okay to just show up here uninvited?" His tone was sharp, unmistakably accusatory.
My temper flared white-hot. "I wasn't aware that exploring the ranch required a personal invitation from you," I shot back, lifting my chin in defiance.
"This is private property." Each word was clipped, hard. "I don't take kindly to trespassers."
Trespasser? The word hit like a slap, and something inside me snapped.
"Trespasser?" I scoffed, anger blazing through my chest. "I'm a guest of Connor's, not some random intruder off the street."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, the only sign that my words had struck any chord at all. When he spoke again, his voice dropped lower, rougher.
"Guest or not, you don't have the right to go poking around wherever you please."
The sheer audacity of that statement detonated what little patience I had left. "And you have the right to dictate where I can and can't go?" I challenged, my tone matching his in heat and steel.
His nostrils flared. "On my property? Yeah, I do."
A disbelieving laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I shook my head, consumed by indignant fury. "Unbelievable. You know what? I don't have time for this." I drew in a steadying breath and raised my chin higher. "Since my presence clearly offends you so deeply, I'll leave."
I didn’t wait for a response because honestly, what else was there to say? I gathered the reins and wheeled Choco around in a sharp pivot, every line of my body radiated the anger coursing through me as I dug my heels into his sides, urging him back down the trail.
I fought the urge to look back. To throw one last, scathing glare at the infuriatingly arrogant man with his ridiculous territorial attitude.
But I didn't. I kept my eyes forward and let Choco carry me away from the clearing, away from those piercing blue eyes and that hostile, unwelcoming presence.
My hands trembled slightly on the reins. Not from fear, but from pure, unfiltered frustration. I was furious: Who the hell does he think he is? Treating me like some kind of criminal when I was just riding through Connor's ranch. Connor's ranch, not his.
As the trees closed in around us and the clearing faded behind me, my thoughts churned. His gruff demeanor and outright hostility had left me unsettled and, admittedly, more than a little pissed off.
Choco's ears flicked back toward me, sensing my agitation, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, to relax my grip on the reins and let some of the tension drain from my shoulders.
"Sorry, boy," I murmured, reaching down to pat his neck. "Not your fault some people are just assholes."
Still, as the main ranch buildings came into view and I guided Choco toward the barn, I couldn't quite shake the encounter from my mind.
Those intense blue eyes. The tattoos that told a story I didn't know.
The way he'd looked at me, not with the kind of attention I'd learned to fear, but with pure suspicion. Like I was the dangerous one.
What had brought him to that isolated corner of the ranch, so far from everyone else? What secrets was he hiding beneath that hard, defensive exterior?
I chastised myself for even wondering. The man clearly wasn't interested in making friends, and I had more than enough on my plate without adding him to it.
But the ranch wasn't that big. Sooner or later, we were bound to run into each other again.
And when we did, I was determined to get some answers.
With the barn finally in sight, I exhaled in relief. I was ready to put that confrontation behind me. To unsaddle Choco, brush him down, and maybe grab something to eat. My stomach was already reminding me I'd skipped lunch.
I cast one final glance over my shoulder in the direction I'd come from, not seeing any sign of him. The encounter might have been unsettling, but something told me it was far from over.