Page 160 of Saddle and Scent
Beckett squeezed my ankle, then rolled over and sprawled out on his back.
“You did good, Junebug,” he said. “This whole setup, I mean. Never thought I’d see Hayes or Carter voluntarily sleep outdoors again.”
“It’s not outdoors if you have blankets,” I said, “and a snack stash.”
Wes grinned, all teeth.
“We should make this a thing. A ritual, or whatever. Wake up by the lake, see how many times we can outdo ourselves.”
I closed my eyes, letting the conversation wash over me.
I felt held, in every sense of the word. Like my life was a snowglobe that had finally settled, the glitter drifting down onto something soft and warm and lasting. The quiet was broken only by the lapping of the lake and the occasional snore from Beckett.
I turned my head, looked up at the swing chair, and thought about all the things we’d built together in the past few months. A barn, a business, a future.
And now this—a place we could all come back to, even when things got rough.
“Thank you,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “For… everything.”
Wes leaned over, kissed my forehead.
“Anytime, Junebug.”
Callum shifted, propping himself up just enough to see me.
“You’re not getting rid of us now,” he said, and for once, there was no bravado in it. Just certainty.
Beckett hummed in agreement, reached over and laced his fingers through mine. His hand was big, warm, a little sticky with dried sweat. I squeezed back, holding on.
The sun broke above the trees, and the whole lake exploded in light—so bright I had to squint, but I didn’t care.
I wanted to remember every second of this morning, the way the world looked when you let yourself belong somewhere. The way you could feel at home, even with your ass half-numb from sleeping on rocks.
I felt all their hands on me—Beckett’s at my ankle, Callum’s at my hip, Wes’s at my shoulder—and knew, deep down, that I was finally where I was supposed to be. Not running, not hiding, just being.
The sanctuary was real, and I had the proof in every scar, every bruise, every aching muscle.
It was the four of us, together.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid to stay.
32
THE LAST ROUTE
~JUNIPER~
The morning air carries the promise of another beautiful autumn day as I settle into the old porch swing with my coffee, watching the sun paint golden streaks across the fields that stretch toward the horizon.
The ranch has taken on an almost magical quality in the early light—fences gleaming with dew, the newly renovated barn standing proud against the sky, and wildflowers nodding in the gentle breeze that carries the scent of earth and growing things.
It's the kind of morning that makes you grateful to be alive, the kind that reminds you why people fight to preserve the places they love.
Which is why the sound of Piper's mail truck approaching at what seems like excessive speed immediately sets off alarm bells in my mind. She's usually such a careful driver, taking her time on the rural routes and stopping to chat with anyone who happens to be outside when she makes her deliveries. The hurried pace suggests something is seriously wrong.
When she climbs out of the truck, her usual bright smile is nowhere to be seen. Instead, her face is drawn with the kindof misery that comes from receiving devastating news, and her normally cheerful demeanor has been replaced by something that looks dangerously close to despair.
"Good morning, Piper," I call out, setting down my coffee cup and moving to the porch railing. "Everything okay?"
