Chapter 23 - Jesse
TWENTY-THREE
JESSE
“Who’s watching us?” Aubree asks as I pull up to the curb in front of Nora’s apartment.
“You don’t have to worry about that. All you have to worry about is staying safe while I’m gone. Devlin and I will be here to pick you up after the sale.”
“Good, then you can take us all out for dinner. We’ve only ever been to the bar, Jesse. I’d like to be seen on your arm in this town, if at all possible.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Are you sure? You wanna be seen with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve selflessly made sure my brother’s ranch has stayed afloat for the last eight years, while sacrificing what you could’ve done for yourself, regardless of how y’all did it and what you’ve had to do. You’re a good man.”
She doesn’t know the half of it. “I’m not a good man, and I’m not selfless. Your ranch has put food on the table for my entire family and made sure we had a roof over our heads. I’m grateful.”
“Then be grateful by taking me out for dinner. Please?”
“I’m going to have Devlin with me,” I argue. Dinner is not my type of schtick.
“He can come too. I’m sure he owes Atlee a good time. No telling how gruff he was, ordering her around the night my brother got shot.”
I grin, just imagining it. There’s a ten-year age gap between the two of them, and my brother has never been accused of being soft about anything. “Fuck, okay. We’ll be here. But you have to promise not to go outside until we come and get you.”
She seems to contemplate what I’ve said, but in the end, she leans in, placing a kiss on my cheek. “I promise we won’t open the door for anyone except you.”
“Good, I just want you to stay safe. Do I need to walk you up there?”
She shakes her head. “Nora’s standing right there. I think we’ll be fine.”
With another kiss, she’s out the door and heading up the stairs with Nora. They both wave at me, and then I’m off to the market. Devlin’s meeting me there with a semi full of cattle, and when we’re done, hopefully we can put this whole situation behind us.
The livestock market sits on the outskirts of Grizzly River.
I can smell the dust and manure before I even turn into the gravel lot, the familiar scent mixing with diesel fumes from the idling trucks.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I scan the area, looking for any sign of the Morrison boys or their associates.
Devlin’s already there when I arrive, his massive frame leaning against the side of our cattle trailer.
Even from a distance, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his dark eyes sweep the lot.
Eight years in the Army before he came back to help run the ranch left their mark on him.
He’s always been the more cautious one between us.
“See anything?” I ask as I approach, my boots crunching on the gravel.
“Couple of Morrison’s hired hands by the loading dock,” he says, nodding toward the far end of the market. “But no sign of the brothers themselves.”
I follow his gaze and spot them, two men in worn jeans and dirty caps, leaning against a pickup truck. They’re trying to look casual, but their eyes keep drifting our way.
“They’re keeping tabs,” I mutter.
“’Course they are. Question is whether they’re here to start trouble or just gather intel.”
Carson pulls up, riding with a friend from a neighboring ranch, so that he can drive the cattle trailer home, and Devlin can head back into town with me.
The next few hours pass in a blur of adrenaline and forced normalcy. We move through the familiar rhythm of the cattle sale—inspecting our animals one final time, registering with the auctioneer, then watching from the bleachers as lot after lot goes through the ring.
Devlin stays close, his presence a comforting weight beside me. We’ve done this dance so many times over the years, but today feels different. The stakes are higher now, with Truett laid up and Aubree’s future hanging in the balance.
When our first lot enters the ring, I hold my breath. Twenty-five head of prime Angus steers, their black coats gleaming under the auction house lights. The bidding starts strong and climbs steadily, buyers recognizing quality when they see it.
“Sold for twelve hundred per head,” the auctioneer’s voice booms through the speakers.
Devlin lets out a low whistle. “Damn good price.”
Our second lot does even better, thirty head of heifers that bring in thirteen-fifty each. By the time our final group goes through, I’m starting to believe we might actually pull this off without incident.
The Morrison hands stay put throughout the entire sale, watching but not interfering. Maybe they’re smarter than I gave them credit for. Starting trouble at a public cattle auction would draw too much attention, even for them.
When the last of our cattle sells for another strong price, I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. We’ve done it. The ranch has enough money to stay afloat for another season, maybe two if we’re careful.
Carson meets us at the settlement office. “Ready when you are.”
I take the check from the clerk, the paper feeling heavier than it should in my hands. This represents all the danger we’ve put ourselves into in order to make a living.
“Take it back with ya. We’ll be home sometime tonight.” I hand him the check and watch as he runs off with a grin on his face.
Devlin and I walk back to my truck in comfortable silence, both of us keeping an eye on our surroundings. The Morrison hands are nowhere to be seen now. Hopefully, they didn’t see anything that made them suspicious.
“Think they’ll make a move?” Devlin asks as we climb into the cab.
“Not yet. They can’t pin it on anyone, at least not yet.” I start the engine and pull out of the lot, taking the long way back toward town. “Hopefully, they let it go. They can’t get them back now, anyway.”
The drive back to Nora’s apartment takes longer than it should, partly because I’m being extra careful about checking for tails, and partly because I’m nervous as hell about this dinner.
Taking Aubree out in public feels like crossing a line somehow—making our relationship official in a way that can’t be taken back.
Not that I want to take it back. The woman has gotten under my skin in ways I never expected, and the thought of her leaving for Chicago makes my chest tight with something I don’t want to name.
Nora’s apartment building comes into view.
I texted her to let her know we were close, and as Aubree comes down the stairs, I can see she’s changed into a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, her honey-blonde hair catching the late afternoon sun.
Even from here, I can see the nervous energy in her posture.
Atlee stands beside her in jeans and a fitted top, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. She’s younger than we are, and no doubt she feels a little out of place.
“About time,” Devlin mutters, but I catch the way his eyes linger on Atlee as we pull up to the curb.
The women approach the truck, and I’m struck again by how beautiful Aubree looks. The dress brings out the warm brown of her eyes, and when she smiles at me through the passenger window, I feel that familiar kick in my chest.
“How did it go?” she asks as she climbs into the front seat.
“Better than expected,” I reply, starting the engine as Atlee and Devlin settle into the back. “We’re officially in the black for the rest of the year.”
“I’m so glad!” Aubree’s genuine excitement makes something warm unfurl in my chest. “I knew you could do it.”
“We all did it,” I correct, glancing at her sideways. “It’s a team effort.”
“Speaking of teams,” Atlee pipes up from the back seat, “Nora’s heading out to the ranch to check on Truett and bring him some dinner. She said to tell y’all have fun and not hurry back since she’ll be there.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me glance in the rearview mirror. Atlee’s looking out the window, but I catch the slight flush in her cheeks. Interesting.
“Where are we going for this fancy dinner?” Devlin asks, and I can hear the reluctance in his voice.
“The Cattleman’s Inn,” Aubree says before I can answer. “It’s in Millfield, about twenty minutes from here. I looked it up online. They have excellent steaks and a nice atmosphere.”
Millfield. One town over, where we’re less likely to run into anyone we know. Smart thinking.
The drive passes pleasantly, with Aubree and Atlee chatting about everything from the ranch to Aubree’s life in Chicago. I find myself relaxing as we put distance between us and the day’s tensions, letting the familiar rhythm of the road soothe my nerves.
The Cattleman’s Inn turns out to be exactly what Aubree promised, a rustic but upscale steakhouse with warm lighting and comfortable booths. The hostess seats us at a corner table with a good view of the dining room, and I make a mental note of the exits out of habit.
“This is nice,” Aubree says, settling beside me in the booth. Her leg brushes against mine under the table, and I have to fight the urge to pull her closer.
“Better than the Rusty Spur,” Atlee admits, studying her menu. “Though their burgers are pretty good.”
Devlin snorts. “Everything’s better than the Rusty Spur. That place is held together by duct tape and stubbornness.”
We order drinks—beer for Devlin and me, wine for the women—and settle into easy conversation. For the first time in weeks, I allow myself to relax completely, enjoying the simple pleasure of good company and the promise of a decent meal.
“So,” Atlee says after the waitress brings our drinks. “What’s the plan now? I mean, with the sale done and Truett on the mend.”
The question I’ve been dreading. I steal a glance at Aubree, trying to read her expression in the dim light.
“Well,” Aubree says slowly, swirling her wine glass. “I suppose that depends on a lot of things.”
“Such as?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
She meets my eyes, and I see something complicated there—want and uncertainty warring in her brown gaze. “Such as whether there’s a reason for me to stay.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. Across the table, Devlin and Atlee exchange a look that’s equal parts knowing and uncomfortable.
“Chicago’s got opportunities,” Atlee says carefully. “Your job, your life there.”
I wonder what they talked about while they were at Nora’s apartment all day.
“Chicago’s also got concrete and noise and people who don’t know the first thing about what matters,” Aubree replies. “Sometimes opportunities aren’t worth much if you’re not happy.”
My heart starts beating faster, but I force myself to stay calm. “And are you? Happy, I mean. Here.”
She reaches under the table and finds my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine. “Getting there.”
The food arrives before I can respond, giving us all something to focus on besides the elephant in the room. The steaks are perfectly cooked, the sides abundant, and the conversation flows more easily once we’re eating.
Devlin tells stories about his Army days that have Atlee laughing despite herself.
Aubree shares memories of growing up on the ranch before her parents died, painting pictures of a childhood I can barely imagine.
For a couple of hours, we’re just four people enjoying a good meal and each other’s company.
It’s almost enough to make me forget about the Morrison brothers, about Truett’s shooting, about all the complications that brought us to this point. Almost.
“This was perfect,” Aubree says as we finish dessert, leaning into my side with contentment. “Thank you for agreeing to come.”
“Thank you for talking me into it,” I reply, and I mean it. This—sitting here with her, watching Devlin slowly warm up to the idea of actually enjoying himself, seeing Atlee smile more than she has in months—this feels like something worth fighting for.
We’re getting ready to leave, Devlin arguing good-naturedly with the waitress about who’s paying the check, when I spot a familiar figure near the hostess station. My blood turns cold as Noah Sanchez turns around, his eyes scanning the dining room until they land on our table.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?” Aubree follows my gaze and stiffens. “Oh.”
Noah approaches our table with that easy, practiced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s out of uniform but still carries himself like law enforcement, all confident swagger and barely concealed suspicion.
“Well, well,” he says, stopping beside our booth. “Fancy meeting y’all here. Having a celebration?”
“Just dinner,” I reply carefully, my hand finding Aubree’s under the table. “Didn’t expect to see you in Millfield.”
“Funny thing about that,” Noah says, his smile never wavering. “I’m still working on those alibis from the night Truett was hurt. You know how it is…crossing t’s and dotting i’s.”
The temperature at our table drops about ten degrees. Devlin’s gone perfectly still, and I can feel Atlee’s tension from across the booth.
“Speaking of which,” Noah continues, turning his attention to Aubree. “I don’t think I ever got a clear answer about where Jesse was that night. Mind helping me out with that?”
The question hangs in the air like a loaded gun. I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat, waiting to see what Aubree will say. We never discussed this, never coordinated our stories. Hell, I’m not even sure she knows the full extent of what happened that night.
But when she looks up at Noah, her brown eyes are clear and steady, her voice calm and certain.
“He was with me,” she says without a second’s hesitation.
My heart does a jump and a twirl, because that means without a doubt, that she’s staying.