CHAPTER 14
Anna
The rocking chair creaked beneath me as I kept up its slow, swaying rhythm with my bare foot, my other leg folded comfortably beneath me. I was dressed for pure relaxation. Shorts and a baggy tee, the kind of outfit that said I had no plans beyond existing peacefully on Connor's front porch.
I snorted at Harper's latest message: a GIF of some guy flapping his arms like a deranged bird. Her response to my play-by-play about breakfast with Jaxon the other day. Specifically, the part where he'd answered the door in nothing but his boxers.
Yeah, Harper. Real subtle.
The last three days had blurred together in the best possible way.
I'd stayed busy working with Sam's horses while Connor and his crew focused on prepping the sale and training horses for the upcoming show in Indiana.
Beyond riding Choco, I'd been exercising three other horses to keep them sharp.
It felt good to have purpose again, to be part of something bigger than just caring for my own horse.
The sense of accomplishment that came with helping maintain the ranch's rhythm made me feel valued in a way I hadn't experienced in months.
Jaxon had been around briefly during the days.
When we crossed paths, it wasn't hostile anymore, no more sharp words or loaded silences.
We acknowledged each other, exchanged quick greetings, then moved on with our day.
A complete 180 from how we'd been before our conversation at his cabin.
The relief that shift brought was almost palpable.
Like I could finally breathe around him without bracing for impact.
Right now, he was helping Connor move one of the larger horse trailers from storage over to the sale barn so they could clean and prep it for the trip.
Connor had created a group chat with the three of us earlier, asking if we wanted dinner and a movie tonight.
Jaxon had shown up shortly after to help Connor knock out the work quickly, ensuring there'd be time for at least one full movie.
I had to admit, Connor was right about getting a new phone. It gave me a connection I hadn't realized I was missing. Helped me feel less isolated, even when I was alone.
Though at this moment, I wasn't completely alone.
Chester was sprawled on his side at the top of the porch steps, basking in the golden light of the setting sun like he didn't have a care in the world.
The soft rustling of the evening breeze mingled with distant sounds from the ranch—voices calling to each other, the clang of metal, horses nickering.
It was peaceful, almost soothing. A stark contrast to what I'd faced in the past.
My phone buzzed again. I glanced down, expecting another witty comeback from Harper, but it was Connor this time. A simple message: they'd be done soon, reminding me about dinner.
I smiled to myself, enjoying the simple normalcy of it all. Movie night with friends. Dinner. Easy conversation. Things I'd once taken for granted before Daniel. Things that felt precious now.
The sound of someone clearing their throat shattered the peace.
My head snapped up toward the bottom of the stairs, my entire body going rigid. Chester sat upright immediately, his hackles rising along his back in a way that made my pulse spike.
A man stood there.
Broad shoulders. Imposing posture. He wore a faded denim jacket that looked like it had seen better days, weathered from years of hard use.
His dark brown hair was shaved close on the sides, longer and unruly on top, the kind of style that said he didn't care much for conventions or what people thought.
A faint scar traced along his hairline, and a small tattoo peeked from beneath his jacket collar.
But it was his eyes that set off every alarm bell in my head.
Sharp blue eyes, narrowed and calculating, catching the dim light in a way that reflected something darker than simple curiosity.
Deep lines etched into his face suggested a hard life, each crease telling silent stories I probably didn't want to know.
His faint smirk spoke of someone accustomed to danger, someone who'd survived on the rougher side of life and wasn't fazed by much.
The slight swagger in his stance radiated confidence, but the wrong kind. Not the earned confidence of someone who'd worked hard and knew their worth. This was the confidence of someone who'd learned to survive by any means necessary.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I fumbled for my phone, pulling up Connor's name without taking my eyes off the stranger.
[Me]: Someone’s at your house. I don't recognize him.
I hit send and set the phone down, rising from the chair with movements I hoped looked casual.
Inside, every instinct screamed at me to run—to get behind a locked door, to put as much distance between myself and this man as possible.
But I forced myself to move slowly, inching closer to the door while trying not to look like I was retreating.
"Can I help you?" I asked, amazed at how steady my voice sounded despite the churning panic in my gut.
Chester's growl rumbled low and threatening, his ears pinned back, tail tucked. He sensed it too—whatever wrongness radiated off this man. The air felt dense, charged with tension that made my skin crawl.
The man tilted his head to the side, his smirk widening as he studied me with those cold blue eyes.
"Yeah," he said, voice rough like gravel crunching underfoot. "I'm looking for someone. Thought they might be around here."
His gaze swept the porch, then locked back on me. Calculating. Assessing. I stood my ground, refusing to show the fear coursing through my veins like ice water.
"Who are you looking for?" I kept my tone cool, controlled, even as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
Chester moved closer to my leg, his growl deepening. Ready to protect me. Ready to fight.
The man opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden noise from inside the house cut him off. A familiar voice, sharp with concern, echoed from the back.
"Anna?"
Jaxon.
Relief flooded through me so fast my knees almost buckled. His footsteps pounded through the house with urgency, and I stepped back instinctively, creating space for him to come outside.
The door flew open with force as Jaxon burst through, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger at the bottom of the stairs.
He positioned himself between me and the man before I could even process it, his body language rigid and protective.
One of his hands brushed lightly against my arm, a subtle gesture to keep me close without fully gripping me.
Even through my fear, I noticed the careful way he touched me.
Mindful. Asking permission just by the lightness of his contact.
"What are you doing here, Jared?" Jaxon's voice came out as a growl, sharp and laced with venom I'd never heard from him before.
His shoulders were so tense I could see the muscles coiling beneath his shirt. When his hand stayed on my arm, I felt a slight tremor running through him, barely contained rage simmering just below the surface, held back by sheer force of will, or so I guessed.
The stranger—Jared—smiled. It was predatory and unsettling, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth. But it was his eyes that truly unsettled me. A malicious glint flickered there, something darker than mere arrogance. Something dangerous. It sent ice down my spine.
"Is that any way to greet your little brother?" he asked, his smirk widening.
His brother?
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
I stared at Jared with fresh eyes, searching for the resemblance.
The similar builds, the facial structure, even those blue eyes—they all aligned.
But where Jaxon's eyes held depth and carefully guarded emotion, Jared's held nothing but cold calculation and barely veiled malice.
I'd never heard Jaxon—or even Connor—mention a brother. Not once. And based on Jaxon's reaction, the taut muscles, the venom laced in his voice, there was clearly a reason for that silence.
Jared's gaze flicked between us, lingering on Jaxon's protective stance, his hand on my arm. His grin widened further as he leaned casually against the stair railing, feigning ease that clashed violently with the palpable hostility crackling in the air.
I placed my hand gently on Jaxon's back, feeling the rigid tension vibrating through his body. He was coiled tight, ready to spring. When he glanced back at me, his expression softened, just a fraction, concern flickering in his blue eyes.
I mouthed, "I'm okay," offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile, even though my stomach was churning.
Jaxon exhaled slowly, deliberately, like he was forcing himself to stay grounded. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, though his glare never left his brother.
The air between them practically sizzled with unspoken history. Years of something dark and twisted that I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.
"She's a pretty little thing, Jaxon," Jared said, leaning slightly to the side to catch a better look at me around his brother's shoulder. His voice was smooth, almost casual, but venomous underneath. "Much prettier than Nikki."
The blood drained from my face.
I felt Jaxon go stiff under my hand, his body locking up like he'd just been struck. The atmosphere changed, thickened. Charged with a volatile mix of grief and fury so raw it made my chest ache.
The cruelty of it, the deliberate way Jared had weaponized Nikki's name, twisting the blade with a smile, was nauseating. This wasn't sibling rivalry or some petty family feud. This was toxic. Broken.
My hand curled into a fist against Jaxon's back, gripping his shirt like I could anchor him to the moment, keep him from doing something he'd regret. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears.