Chapter 10
Wade
The barn is warm with the late-afternoon heat, and the air thick with the scent of hay and cattle.
I’m fixing the latch on one of the stalls when I hear Caleb’s boots behind me.
He’s not stomping around, but there’s purpose in each step.
I know that walk. He’s wound tight about something.
I turn as he stops in the middle of the aisle.
His shoulders are set like stone, his jaw flexing the way it does when he’s trying not to say something he’s going to end up saying anyway.
“What’s got you looking like a kicked dog?” I ask.
He holds my gaze, eyes dark and steady.
“Joelle was crying.”
A beat of silence passes before I can speak. “Is she hurt?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “She’s hurt. And I want to know what you’re doing with her.”
My stomach dips. I straighten slowly, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Helping her.”
He lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “Helping. Right.”
“Spit it out, Caleb.”
His eyes flicker with something sharp. “I heard her this morning. Everyone did. You had her moaning loud enough to startle the birds.”
Heat climbs up the back of my neck. He doesn’t know the whole story, and he’s walking straight into a storm.
“She needed relief,” I say. “She asked.”
“Relief,” he repeats. “What kind of relief?”
“She wanted to wean her son, but she didn’t know that she couldn’t just stop.”
“So Eli was right.”
“Eli needs to mind his own fucking business,” I grunt.
Caleb sighs, tipping his head to the barn roof, then looking straight at me with the eyes we share. “She’s vulnerable, Wade. And that’s not the kind of thing a man should do for a woman who walked onto his ranch, especially a woman who used to live here when she was a kid.”
“Kid? She was a teenager. And what does that matter? She’s not a kid anymore. She needed my help.”
Caleb shakes his head.
I interrupt before he can jump in with more judgment. “What would you have done, Caleb? She was crying from the pain and embarrassment. There wasn’t any other way.”
“You’ve made her stay for three days. You could have sent her home to her kid.”
“I need to make sure she’ll fit here, before she brings a kid under our roof. You might think I’m a heartless asshole, but I won’t be the one to make a kid homeless.”
“I think you might not be seeing her as clearly as you think you are,” he says. “Because less than an hour after you two were going at it upstairs, she was on the kitchen floor crying so hard she could barely breathe.”
My chest goes tight. “What happened?”
“Her son,” he answers, softer now. “She talked to him on the phone. It gutted her. She misses him somethin’ fierce, and she’s scared out of her mind about whether this job will stick. And at the same time, she’s letting you put your mouth on her.”
He’s not yelling. He’s not even angry in the way I expect him to be. He’s concerned, and somehow that feels worse.
“I didn’t take anything from her she didn’t offer,” I say. “That first day, she couldn’t lift her arms without leaking through her shirt.”
Caleb studies me, waiting.
My voice drops, rough and low. “I want her, Caleb. Bad. You have no idea what it’s like.”
Caleb exhales, long and slow. “You want her,” he says. “But what about what she wants?”
“She wants me, too.”
“I’m not talking about her body, Wade.”
I fall silent because he’s not wrong . He sees people in ways I miss. Always has.
He steps a little closer, lowering his voice.
“She’s tough, but under it all, she’s fragile.
She puts up a hard front because she has to, but she’s tired and scared.
She needs stability for her boy. And I’m not saying she’s using you, but you have to consider the possibility that she’s letting things happen because she’s trying to secure a place here. ”
My jaw clenches. “No.”
Caleb shrugs as his words sting like a splinter under the skin; small but painful and impossible to ignore.
He steps back. “You need to give her space. Make sure it’s what she wants.”
“What about you?” I ask him. “What do you want?”
His cool gray eyes narrow, and for once, I have no idea what my twin is thinking.
***
The moment we walk inside the house, the smell of rich stew, warm bread and herbs hits us, thick and comforting. My stomach growls loud enough that Caleb gives me a look.
Joelle stands at the stove, stirring the pot. Her fair hair is tied back, loose strands falling around her face. Her eyes are still a little puffy, though she’s pretending otherwise. When she sees us, she wipes her hands on a towel and gives a soft smile.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she says.
She looks small somehow. Not weak, just… more vulnerable, like a stiff wind might knock her sideways.
We wash up at the sink. Caleb bumps my shoulder, a quiet reminder not to screw this up.
When we sit, Joelle ladles stew into our bowls. Steam curls up, thick and savory, the kind that makes your whole chest warm before the first bite even hits your tongue.
“What about Eli and Rick?”
“They’ve gone into town,” I say.
I take a spoonful of stew and groan. “Joelle, this is unreal.”
Caleb nods, tearing bread apart like he hasn’t eaten all day. “Best stew I’ve had in a long time.”
Her cheeks pink, her eyes gleam, and damn, it hits me hard. She’s as starved for appreciation as me and my brother.
She clears dishes as we eat, moving around the kitchen with soft, careful grace, and all the while, Caleb’s words echo in the back of my mind.
Does she want me, or does she want the safety a place on this ranch will offer?
Did she let me touch her because she needed the relief and a place for her son, or because she wanted me?
I take another bite, slower this time, watching the way she pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I want her. That hasn’t changed.
But now, wanting her comes with a question I can’t shake.
Is she driven by desire… or survival?
Joelle’s quiet. Not tense, just thoughtful, like she’s trying to fade into the background even while she’s feeding us.
“Did you make the bread, too?” Caleb asks, wiping stew from his mouth with a napkin.
Her eyes flick over, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It’s nothing fancy.”
“It’s perfect,” I say before I can stop myself. And it is. Everything she touched tonight tastes like a hug, and I hate how much that affects me.
Caleb clears his throat, pulling out the empty chair beside him. “Sit for a minute, Joelle. Eat. You've been on your feet all day.”
She hesitates, then slides into the chair with a tired exhale she probably didn’t mean to make. Her shoulders slump, and the sight grips me more than I want to admit.
Caleb takes a bite of stew and nods. “You made this back when you lived here the first time.”
Her eyes widen. “You remember that?”
He shrugs. “Hard to forget the one good meal we ate during that whole mess.”
She huffs out a breath that’s half laugh, half sadness. “That was a rough few months.”
Rough doesn’t cover it. I remember her mother tearing through the house like a tornado, picking up things that weren’t hers, looking at us boys like we were in her way. Joelle was younger then, quiet and stone-faced while the world burned around her.
“You used to hide in the mudroom,” I say. The memory drifts back sharp and clear. “Right by the dryer. Said the heat helped your headaches.”
She looks at me, surprised. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“I noticed.”
Her gaze drops to her hands.
Caleb leans forward, elbows braced on the table. “You were always trying to stay out of everyone’s way,” he says. “Even when you didn’t need to.”
Joelle lets out a breath that shakes on the way out. “Old habits.”
We fall into a quiet that’s full of old memories we never talked about. Her thumb rubs the seam of her jeans, slow and nervous, and my throat tightens.
“There’s a spare room upstairs for your boy,” Caleb says. “When he comes, we can decorate it.”
Her breath catches. Not loud, but enough for all three of us to hear it.
“What’s his name?” I ask gently.
For a moment, she stares at her hands, her fingers tightening around themselves. Her chest rises on a shaky inhale.
Then she says, barely above a whisper, “Caleb.”
Silence drops heavy over the table.
My spoon pauses halfway to my mouth. The air thickens in my lungs. She named her son after my brother. A small, stunned sound escapes Caleb. “You… named him after me?”
She nods, eyes shiny. “You were the only safe place in this house back then. You didn’t talk much, but you were kind. You always checked on me. It felt like you were the only person who saw me. And that day we left…”
Caleb swallows hard, the tips of his ears going pink. “Jo…”
My guts twist. It shouldn’t matter, but damn, it does. I clear my throat, trying to break the weight of the moment. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
She shrugs weakly. “Felt like… too much. Like it might make things weird.”
Weird doesn’t cover what’s happening in my chest, but I keep that to myself.
“Well,” Caleb says, voice thick but warm, “I’m honored.”
She smiles at him, and it hits me like a quiet punch.
I lean back in my chair, fighting the jab of jealousy lodged under my ribs.
I have no claim on Joelle. I know that. But the idea of her choosing his name for her boy while she’s been cradling my face and coming on my fingers. I don’t like it. Not at all.
“So, you want me to stay?”
“Of course,” Caleb says, his mouth running away with him. That’s something we should discuss before he commits. Not that I was going to say any different.
“Both of you,” I add. “That’s what family is supposed to do.”
She looks between us like she can’t quite believe she belongs at this table but wants to. Needs to. And that splinter of doubt Caleb shoved into me earlier pushes deeper. Is she open with us because she trusts us, or because she’s desperate for somewhere to land?
She rises to collect her bowl, but Caleb stops her with a hand on her wrist. “You cooked. We’ll clean.”
She blinks, thrown off balance. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
She looks at me.
“You deserve a break,” I say. “Sit down or go lie down. We got this.”
For the first time all evening, a genuine smile, small, warm, and tired, touches her face. She slips out of the kitchen quietly as Caleb gathers dishes. I stand beside him, rinsing bowls under the faucet.
He nudges me lightly. “You okay?” I don’t answer right away. The truth tastes too raw.
“I didn’t know about the name,” I say.
“I didn’t either.”
“Still…” I scrub a little too hard at the bowl. “Feels like somethin’ I missed.”
Caleb watches me for a long second. “You didn’t miss her, Wade. Back then, you were shouldering the worst of it. You didn’t have a chance to look up and see a girl who was lost. And you’re seeing her now. That’s what’s important.”
I don’t tell him that seeing her is the problem. That wanting her is starting to feel like a need I won’t be able to quench anywhere else. And that now, knowing she named her boy after Caleb, not me, has left me with an ache in my chest I don’t know what to do with.