Page 126 of Come Back to Me

Agitated, I surge to my feet then stretch out the kinks that come from a night on the couch after I check the time.

Within a few steps, I’m staring out of a picture window that overlooks the prairie beyond.

In the distance, I can see the new bunkhouse that Colton built last year—I wondered why he’d put it in that quadrant, but now I know it’s for the refuge—and Mrs. Abelman’s chicken coop.

A part of me knew I’d return home. A part of me even knew that I’d be grateful for the welcome embrace of family, but I never thought I’d struggle to unwind here.

It’s only grown worse since I confessed my sins to Tee.

I didn’t realize how she was anchoring me until I bombed the chains linking us.

Last night, I slept more than I have in a week.

Because of her.

“I am so fucked,” I mutter, yawning as I check my phone, aware I should have looked through my notifications before crashing last night.

Finding an email from the security firm Callan hired, I scan the report on the ranch’s current status.

Impressed with its expansiveness but knowing there’s room for improvement, I head for the nearest bathroom once I’ve given it an initial read.

After using the facilities, I postpone a shower and grab a protein shake from the refrigerator. Mid-sip, I retrieve my running shoes from the mudroom and slip into them then rush out the door, knowing that Callan will either be on his way to the stables or on the range for his morning ride—a ritual I’ve been partaking in since I returned.

Just less frequently of late.

Jogging to the stables, I spot him twenty yards away from the doors. “Bro! You didn’t wait.”

At my grumble, he rolls his eyes. “You were sleeping. I wasn’t going to wake you up.”

“Must have heard the door,” I reason.

“I left via the mudroom. No way you could have heard me.”

“I have superhuman hearing.”

“I’d have believed that eight years ago, not so much now.” He snorts. “You looked comfortable.”

“I was.” Best night’s sleep I had all week.

I take a sip of my drink then pass it to him. It goes back and forth until the bottle’s empty.

We haven’t really talked about it, not with actual words, but I know Callan wants to bulk up.

I think it’s because of a girl, but I could be wrong because in all the time I’ve been back, he’s not once brought anyone around.

With a yawn, I tell him, “I received the security firm’s report.”

“Oh?”

No one else’d figure out he was nervous, but he can’t hide shit from me. “You did a good job, kid.”

His brows lift as he monitors the progress on the stables expansion—we’re going into horse breeding in a big way. “I did?”

“Yeah. They detailed all the actions you took to secure the property.” I clap a hand to his shoulder. “I’d be impressed if I expected anything less from you.”

His grin’s sheepish, though I can tell he’s pleased by the unexpected praise. “I didn’t want to let Colt down.”

“You haven’t,” I assured him. There were always going to be blind spots on a property this vast, but he plugged in the holes where he could and came up with alternate solutions, ones I’m pretty sure he didn’t ask for Colt’s approval on. Or the law’s. Not all of them are legal in this country. Lucky for him, he has an in with law enforcement. “I’m going to have men patrol the perimeter?—”

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