Chapter 17 Nash
SEVENTEEN
NASH
The ranch is loud in the aftermath.
Not festival loud—thank God Rodeo Days is over—but the kind of loud that happens when fear finally drains out of a place and everybody realizes they’re still standing.
Deputies in and out. Statements. Paperwork.
Mrs. Coleman crying into my mom’s shoulder like they’ve known each other forever.
Which they pretty much have. Mr. Coleman pacing holes into his porch boards because standing still feels like surrender.
Delaney’s safe.
That’s the only sentence my body seems capable of believing.
She’s sitting on the couch now, curled up with a blanket and a mug of coffee that’s gone cold because she keeps forgetting to drink it. Her eyes are tired, but she’s here—breathing, blinking, alive—and every time I look at her, something in my chest loosens.
I’m in the kitchen pretending to be normal—washing a glass that doesn’t need washing—when my phone rings.
BANKS lights up the screen.
Of course.
Because chaos doesn’t call ahead, and neither do Hawthorne brothers.
I answer. “If this is about Mom sewing a wedding dress, I’m hanging up.”
Banks’s laugh is sharp and brief. “Good to know you’re still alive.”
“Barely,” I mutter, eyes flicking to the living room. Delaney lifts her gaze like she can feel the sound of his name through the walls.
Banks’s voice turns serious. “Listen. I’m not calling to give you crap.”
“That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it.” A beat. “I heard what happened.”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
“You handle it?”
“We got her back,” I say, and my voice goes rough on the words. “Kyle’s in cuffs. His buddy too.”
“Good.” Banks exhales. “I’m proud of you.”
That lands heavier than it should.
Banks isn’t the emotional one. Banks is the brother who learned to turn feelings into currency and silence into armor. Hearing pride from him is like hearing thunder in a clear sky.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
He clears his throat, like the moment got too honest and he needs to pivot or he’ll choke on it.
“Alright. Here’s the real reason I’m calling.” His tone sharpens. “A man named Dean Maddox is going to call you. Maddox Security. Out of Saint Pierce.”
I frown. “Why is a guy from Saint Pierce calling me?”
“Because I talked to him.” Banks doesn’t soften it. “And because you need to listen to what he has to say.”
I go still. “You talked to him about what?”
There’s a pause—just long enough for me to know Banks is choosing his words.
“About Dad,” he says.
The air in the kitchen changes.
My hand tightens around the glass. “What do you mean?” I rasp out. “Not unless—”
“Not unless… he might be out there,” Banks cuts in, voice low. “I have a lead. Maddox has resources. Real ones. And he thinks—” His breath hitches. “He thinks there’s a chance Billy Hawthorne didn’t die the night we were told he did.”
My heart doesn’t beat for a second.
It just… stalls.
“That’s not funny,” I say, because my brain scrambles for something solid. “Don’t do that. Don’t call me with—”
“I’m not joking.” Banks’s voice is iron. “You know I don’t joke about him.”
I swallow so hard it hurts.
“If this is some scam—”
“It’s not.” Another pause. “Nash… just take the call. Hear him out. For once in your life, don’t decide it’s hopeless before you’ve got the facts.”
My throat tightens like a fist.
Banks exhales. “He’ll call soon. Don’t ignore it.” Then, quieter: “And… I’m glad she’s okay.”
I can’t speak for a second.
“Me too,” I finally manage.
Banks hangs up.
I stand there staring at my phone like it’s going to explain what just happened.
Dad.
Billy Hawthorne.
The man who disappeared into black water and left a hole the size of a universe.
My brain tries to reject it on instinct. Because hope is dangerous. Because the last time I hoped hard, I got handed a coffin with no body and a lifetime of unanswered questions.
Behind me, Delaney shifts on the couch.
I turn and walk into the living room like my legs belong to someone else.
She looks up immediately, reading my face like she always does. “What’s wrong?” she asks softly.
I sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. Close. Grounded by the fact that she’s here. “It was Banks,” I say.
Her brows lift. “He call to give you shit?”
“Actually no.” I drag a hand through my hair. “He said someone named Dean Maddox is going to call me. From a security company in Saint Pierce.”
Delaney’s expression changes—interest and wariness mixing. “Saint Pierce?”
I nod once. “Banks told me to take the call. He said…” My voice catches, and I hate it. “He said it’s about my dad.”
Her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter, blanket sliding down her shoulders.
“Nash…” she whispers.
“I don’t know what it means,” I admit. “I don’t even know if it’s real. But Banks wasn’t… playing.”
Delaney reaches out and takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine like she’s anchoring me to the present so the past can’t drag me under.
“Okay,” she says, steady. “Then we listen.”
We.
The word is so simple, and it hits me like a prayer.
Before I can respond, my phone rings again.
Unknown number.
My stomach drops.
I glance at Delaney. She nods once, calm for both of us.
I answer. “Hawthorne.”
“Mr. Hawthorne,” a voice says—deep, controlled, the kind of voice that doesn’t waste syllables. “Dean Maddox.”
Something in me straightens. Not fear. Not exactly. Recognition.
This is a man who lives in the same world Gray lives in. The one where bad things happen and you don’t get to blink.
“Yeah,” I say. “Banks said you’d call.”
“He did.” Dean’s tone stays even. “First—glad Miss Coleman is safe. I heard about Quarry Road. That could’ve gone differently.”
My jaw clenches. “It didn’t.”
“No.” A beat. “Now, I run Maddox Security out of Saint Pierce. We do executive protection, recovery, missing persons, high-risk transport, personal security—depending on the client and the job. I’m putting together a new unit. Charlie Team.”
I glance at Delaney. She’s watching me like she’s trying not to breathe too loud.
Dean continues. “Banks Hawthorne spoke highly of you. Your background. Your discipline. Your adaptability.”
I almost laugh. “He’s biased.”
“Maybe.” Dean doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m interested in recruiting you, Hawthorne. You’d be a fit.”
A fit.
Like I’m a tool. Like I’m a piece of a machine.
Maybe I am.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “My life is here. My family. The ranch situation—”
“Understood,” Dean says. “You don’t have to decide right now.”
I exhale, tension easing a fraction.
Then Dean’s voice shifts—not louder, not sharper, just… heavier. “But I’ll tell you why I’m calling personally,” he says. “And why you might want to hear me out.”
My pulse picks up.
Dean pauses like he’s letting the next words hit clean. “We have reason to believe your father, Billy Hawthorne, is still alive,” he says.
The room tilts.
Delaney’s hand tightens around mine.
My mouth goes dry. “That’s impossible,” I manage.
Dean doesn’t argue. “It’s improbable,” he corrects. “Not impossible.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
“You’re saying this because—what?” I bite out. “Because you found a rumor? Because you want to bait me into your company?”
Dean’s tone stays calm. “I’m saying it because we have data. A pattern. A name. And a location tied to the night he vanished—tied to a series of ‘disappearances’ that aren’t accidents.”
My stomach turns cold.
Delaney whispers my name like she’s trying to keep me in my body. “Nash…”
I squeeze her hand back, hard.
Dean continues, “If Billy Hawthorne is alive, he’s not free. And if he’s not free, he’s in trouble. The kind of trouble that doesn’t wait.”
My throat closes.
“What’s the first mission?” I ask, voice barely steady.
Dean answers like he’s been holding it back for exactly this moment.
“Finding Billy Hawthorne,” he says. “Bringing him home. If we can.”
The words crack something open in me—something I sealed shut the night the deputies told me to go home, the night the creek swallowed my father and gave nothing back.
My whole life has been built around that hole. Around proving myself because he wasn’t there to see it. Around carrying my brothers and my mother and my grief like a rucksack I never take off.
If he’s alive…
If there’s even a chance…
My eyes sting. I blink hard, furious at my own weakness.
Dean’s voice softens—not kind, exactly, but human. “You don’t have to answer tonight,” he says. “But I’ll tell you this: opportunities like this don’t come twice. Not if you want the truth.”
He gives me an address, a time, a contact. A clean path forward, like men like him always do. “Think about it,” he says. “And Hawthorne?”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
“If your father is out there, he’s been surviving without you for a long time.” A beat. “Don’t make him survive without you a second longer than he has to.”
The call ends.
I stare at my phone like it’s a live wire.
Delaney doesn’t speak right away. She just shifts closer and slides her arms around me, forehead pressing against my shoulder like she’s holding me together by force. Finally, she whispers, “Is it real?”
I swallow. “I don’t know.”
Her voice trembles. “But you want it to be.”
I close my eyes.
Yes.
I want it so badly it hurts.
“I have to find out,” I say. It isn’t a choice. It’s a reflex. It’s the deepest part of me standing up.
Delaney pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes glossy but steady. “Then we’ll find out.”
We.
Again.
My chest tightens.
“How does that work?” I ask, the practical fear rushing in like cold water. “Saint Pierce. Maddox. Charlie Team. You… your life—”
She cuts me off softly. “Nash. One thing at a time.”
I stare at her, and the truth hits me like a sunrise. This—Delaney—this is the life I want. And the universe just handed me a road that might give me back the one thing that broke me before I ever left town.
“I guess I’m relocating to Saint Pierce.”
She exhales.
Somewhere in the other room, the house creaks.
Outside, the ranch sits under starlight, quiet and bruised and still standing.
I look down at Delaney, then back at my phone.
The next mission isn’t a maybe.
It’s calling my name.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not running toward war.
I’m running toward home.
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Keep reading for a sneak peek of Crewe’s story, coming next in the Hawthorne Saga…
Because Nash just received a photo that shouldn’t exist.
A face that looks a little too familiar.
A lead that hits a little too hard.
And suddenly, the Hawthorne brothers are starting to wonder if their father didn’t disappear all those years ago…
If he was taken.
If someone made sure he stayed gone.
The past is cracking open, the questions are piling up, and the truth is finally within reach—whether they’re ready for it or not.
Turn the page to meet Crewe… and step straight into the next wave of danger.