Chapter 24
Wade
Joelle descends the stairs in her new dress, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
The fabric clings to her curves, dipping enough at the neckline to make my pulse jump.
Her hair’s curled from the humidity, her cheeks are flushed, and Little C, as we’ve now started calling him, is tucked on her hip, holding his blue rabbit stuffed toy like it’s the most important thing in the world.
Caleb lets out a low whistle. “Darlin’, you’re gonna shut down the whole damn fair lookin’ like that.”
Joelle blushes, smoothing the skirt with her free hand. “It’s just a dress.”
“It ain’t ‘just’ anything,” I say, stepping in close to tuck a curl behind her ear. “You’re beautiful.” And the way she looks at me right then, hopeful, soft, and a little shy, damn near knocks me flat.
Little C babbles and smacks his hands together, eager for whatever adventure he senses coming. So we pile into the truck, Caleb strapping him into his car seat with the careful focus he gets anytime the baby’s involved, and I drive us toward the fairground that has sprung up outside town.
The closer we get, the louder everything grows: the music, the chatter, the clang of metal as rides warm up for the evening crowd.
The air smells like kettle corn, fried dough, hay, and barbecue smoke.
Families who have driven for miles mill around with paper cups of lemonade.
Kids run past with sticky fingers and cotton candy mustaches.
Somewhere, a fiddle plays an old cowboy two-step.
We spend the first half hour wandering. Caleb wins a stuffed horse for the baby.
Joelle feeds Little C tiny bites of funnel cake.
I buy her candied pecans and watch her lick the sugar from her fingertips, getting all kinds of riled up.
She’s fascinated by the barrel racers warming up and tells me how she always loved the horses more than the crowds.
We walk together while Caleb jogs ahead to let Little C see the goats and sheep. I lace my fingers with Joelle’s, and she leans into my side, warm and certain about our physical contact in a way she never used to be. “This is nice,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”
I’m not the kind of man who dwelled much on what it would feel like to have a woman and child.
Family felt broken to me: mom passed away before I could truly feel her love, and a father who showed his cows more affection than his sons.
But today, I see what all the fuss is about.
I glance at other men, caring excited kids on their shoulders or pushing strollers, their wives laughing, and I get it.
There’s a contentment that’s settled into me that’s so much greater than I expected.
I cup Joelle’s head and pull her close, kissing her temple.
She smells of strawberry shampoo and sugar, my sweet, strong, beautiful woman.
We’re cutting past the livestock tent toward the Ferris wheel when Joelle stops dead.
At first, I think she heard something that alarmed her. All around us, there’s a cacophony of sound. Then the color drains from her face, and her fingers tighten on mine, her breath coming short and shallow.
“Jo?” I murmur, stepping in front of her. “What is it?”
Then I follow her gaze to a man, standing across the path, hands on his hips, jaw tight, eyes locked on her. And on the baby in my brother’s arms.
The man has corn-yellow hair curling under his hat, bright blue eyes, and a lean, rangy build that screams rodeo hand or drifter.
I know who he is before she even whispers it.
“That’s him,” she breathes. “Raylan, if that’s even his name. That’s… Little C’s father.”
A cold rush hits my spine.
The man’s already walking toward us, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed, and Joelle instinctively steps further behind me. That alone is enough to snap something in my chest.
When Raylan-fucking-dirtbag gets close, his gaze flicks between Joelle and me, and then lands on the baby.
“Joelle.” He tips his hat. “It’s been a while.”
She makes a choking sound in her throat because what in the actual fuck? He has sex with her once, taking her virginity, and then leaves without a backward glance. And now he’s commenting on the time that’s lapsed like she had something to do with it.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” I say, resting my hand protectively against her hip.
His eyes drift over her with a possessiveness I want to knock from his smug face, then they land on Little C. “He looks like me,” he says flatly.
“You need to step back,” I growl. “Right now. You understand me?”
He smirks, his shoulders tensing. “You never called me, Joelle.”
“You didn’t leave me your number,” she spits.
I touch her wrist and ease her behind me again. There’s no point in her engaging with this man in any way. He’s baiting for a reason.
“You knew where to find me.”
“Listen, buddy.” I step forward, meeting him eye to eye. “This woman and this boy. Take a good look at them because this is the last time you’re ever laying eyes on them. Do you understand me?”
His eyes search my face like he’s assessing whether I’m willing to back up my threats with physical action.
He’d be an idiot to test me. There’s nothing more despicable in my eyes than a man who dupes a girl into sleeping with him with slick words, slicker smiles, and promises that vanish with the dawn.
Caleb steps closer, shifting the baby to Joelle, who takes him and cradles him close.
“Joelle,” the man says, ducking his head around me, completely ignoring my threats. “Why don’t you come talk to me? We have unfinished business.”
He reaches out for her, and Joelle gasps, recoiling.
“LEAVE,” Caleb growls.
His voice is deadly calm in a way that seems to cut through, but my blood hits a boil. I shove Raylan back hard.
He stumbles but rights himself, glaring at me. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The man she’s with,” I snarl, stepping between him and Joelle fully.
His eyes flick to Little C again, and something meaner sparks in his stare. “That kid’s mine.”
“Yeah?” Caleb laughs bitterly. “What’s his name, huh? When’s his birthday? You spent money on the boy? Fed him? Clothed him? Looked after his momma?”
Raylan’s jaw ticks but he lacks the decency to appear shamed.
“You want to claim the boy?” I growl. “You steppin’ up to put a roof over his head? Food on his plate? Clothes on his back? You volunteering to pay child support for the next seventeen years?”
His jaw ticks again, but his eyes drop from Little C as the true reality of what it takes to be a father roots in his mind.
“What’s your surname?” I ask him. “Date of birth? So Joelle here can find you when she needs things?”
“A boy deserves to know his father,” he grinds out.
“A father worth knowing, but that ain't you, is it? You're a man who got what he wanted and split.”
“You know jack about who I am,” he says, and I snort.
“I know exactly who you are.”
He lunges forward, stupid and reckless, finally shamed enough to react to the truth, and I shove him again. Caleb catches his arm and twists until the man yelps, dropping to one knee.
I lean in, nostrils flaring, jabbing him in the chest. “You touch them,” I growl, “You even think about them, and you’re goin’ home without your teeth and a year’s worth of child support back payments to find.”
People begin to stare, a small circle forming around us. Joelle’s breath shakes as Little C whimpers, tiny hands fisting in her dress.
Raylan tries to jerk free. “This ain’t over!”
“Yes,” Caleb says, voice low and deadly, his usual softness gone, “it is.”
I lean down until I’m eye-to-eye with the bastard.
“Don’t test us, Raylan,” I hiss. Then I lower my voice to a whisper.
“I’ll put you in the ground before I let you hurt another hair on that woman’s head—somewhere no one will find your worthless corpse.
I have acres and acres of dirt just waitin’ on some fertilizer. ”
He jerks his arm loose and stumbles backward, fury contorting his face, but he leaves without looking back, legs striding, arms pumping, head low, proving everything I said about him. I grab Joelle immediately, cupping her cheek, brushing tears from her lashes as Little C hides against her neck.
“Hey,” I murmur, pulling her into my chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. You understand me?”
Caleb rubs the baby’s back, whispering soft, soothing nonsense. “Shh, little man. You’re safe. We got you.”
Joelle trembles so hard I can feel it through my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she keeps whispering. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? I say firmly. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? Not for this. Not for him. Not ever. That man’s all hat and no cattle. Not worth a single emotion, let alone a tear.”
She buries her face in my chest, crying silently as Caleb wraps his arm around her shoulders.
We stand in the middle of the fair, the three of us and the baby we’d defend to our last breaths, while the world keeps spinning around us as if nothing happened.
And I know, without a doubt, I’d fight that man again a hundred times if it means keeping her and that little boy safe.
They’re ours.
And no worthless piece of shit is taking them.
Not now.
Not ever.