Chapter 11
Wade
I’m bone tired. The day was hard: fence work, colts acting like the devil settled in their bones, feed bags that seemed heavier with every hour. It was the kind of day that grinds a man down, but none of it sticks once I step out of the shower, dress and walk into the family room.
Joelle’s on the couch, curled on her side, one knee tucked under the other, hair spilling in soft waves across the cushion, and feet bare. My T-shirt hangs loose over her thighs. She has a paperback open in her hand, and the second she looks up, everything inside me tightens.
There’s a softness in her face now. The tears are gone, though I can still see their traces in a faint puffiness around her eyes. She looks pleased to see me, though, which is a big relief after everything.
I hover in the doorway for a second.
“Hey,” she says, voice soft.
Just that one word pulls me in like a rope around my chest.
I drop onto the couch beside her, and she sits up a little, closing her book on her lap. Her fingers toy with the edge of the cover, fidgeting enough for me to notice.
She’s nervous, but I’m not sure why, and after what Caleb said earlier, the doubt in my chest flares again.
“Can I ask you somethin’?”
Her brows lift, cautious but open. “Sure.”
I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, trying to find words that don’t make me sound like a fool. “About earlier. And yesterday.”
Her breath stutters, and I force myself to meet her eyes.
“I need to know you’re not letting this happen because you feel like you have to. Because you want a place here. Because you’re scared of losing the job.”
Her lips part slowly. “Wade…”
“I mean it.” My voice drops, sounding rougher than I intend. “If any of this feels like pressure from me, or like I’m taking advantage of where you’re at… tell me. I’ll stop. Right now. I won’t touch you again unless you ask.”
A beat of silence.
She sets the book aside, shifts closer, and rests her hand on my thigh.
“This is… well, it’s difficult for me to say what it is. I didn’t come here expecting us to… to get close. And that first time, I was ashamed that it made me feel good. It felt wrong to be that way with you. But this morning… it felt right. I wanted you to.”
My chest loosens, but I hold still.
“What do you want?” she asks.
Doesn’t she know? Can’t she tell? Just looking at her makes me boil with a heat that could consume me. When I’m drinking from her and my hands are touching her soft, warm body, it’s the only time I forget about the pressure of this ranch and find a part of myself that’s new and hopeful.
“I want you,” I say. “All of you. Everything.”
“And Caleb? How will he feel about this?”
It’s too soon to broach what I really want. Us to be a family unit. My brother to touch her as I’ve touched her. For us to make her ours in every way a man can claim a woman and share her without possessiveness or jealousy.
“Don’t worry about Caleb,” I tell her. “Worry about yourself.”
“I want this,” she continues. “I want you. Even today, when I was a mess about my son… I still wanted you. I wanted the safe feeling I get when you’re near me.”
Her thumb moves once, slowly. “You didn’t take anything from me I wasn’t willing to give.”
My throat goes tight. “Joelle…”
“And I don’t want you to stop,” she whispers. “Not because of Caleb. Not because you believe I’m fragile. I need this.”
The ache from tonight, from hearing her son’s name, from imagining she wanted Caleb instead, all eases like a stubborn knot giving way.
I lift a hand and brush a curl from her cheek. “You sure?”
Joelle nods, and I pull her onto my lap, gentle at first, giving her every chance to change her mind. She comes willingly, knees bracketing my hips, breath warm on my neck.
I hold her face between my hands and kiss her slowly at first. Slow enough to memorize the shape of her mouth, the little sounds she makes, the way her fingers slide up into my hair. She melts into me, soft and warm and wanting.
And when I deepen the kiss, when she shifts her hips over mine with a needy little sigh, I know she’s telling the truth.
She’s not here out of desperation.
She’s in my arms because she wants me.
I guide her closer, holding her as if she’s something precious and breakable, even though she’s stronger than I ever gave her credit for. Her hands roam my shoulders, my neck, my chest.
“Wade,” she breathes, voice trembling from need.
I rest my forehead against hers.
“You don’t have to be alone ever again,” I promise.
And when she presses her mouth to mine and sinks fully into my arms, the hurt from earlier, the jealousy, the splinter of doubt, all fade clean away.
Because now I know.
She chooses me, and I’m going to spend the rest of the night showing her exactly what that means.