Page 41 of Branded By the Cowboy

My heart picks up speed as I rise slowly. I check on Shay—still asleep—and grab a flashlight. Stepping outside, I pull the door shut behind me.

The wind bites, and my boots sink into the wet earth. I cross the yard fast, trying to stay in the shadows, heart thudding against my ribs like a warning bell.

But by the time I reach the edge of the barn, the headlights are gone—nothing but trees and wind and the distant bleat of goats from the lower barn.

I stand there a minute longer, flashlight in my hand, scanning the darkness.

With a sigh, I turn to go… and my boot catches in a rut slick with rain and half-melted snow. I go down hard on one knee, and my palm lands on something sharp. Glass? A jagged rock? It doesn’t matter. The sting hits instantly.

I hiss, cradling my hand as I scramble up. Blood beads along the base of my thumb, red and bright against the white of my flashlight beam.

Shaking, wet, and rattled to my bones, I return to the house, my body braced against the elements. Once inside, I grab a cloth from the drawer and hold it against my hand before checking on Shay, who’s still sleeping peacefully.

A minute later, a soaked Henry barrels through the kitchen door. “Where’s Shay?”

“On the couch,” I reply. “She’s okay. She wasn’t feeling great earlier, so I made her rest.”

He takes in my bedraggled state, and his eyes flicker to my hand. “You okay? What happened?”

I wave my other hand. “It’s nothing. Check on your wife. I think she needs her bed.”

Henry pauses for a moment as if he wants to say more, then exhales and makes a beeline for Shay. I watch through the open door as he gently lifts her from the sofa like she’s made of glass. Shay mumbles sleepily and burrows into him as he carries her upstairs.

It’s not just the way Henry carries her. It’s the way his entire body shifts. He’s not simply holding her; he’s anchoring her. Like whatever storm is outside, she’s his only priority.

Like love doesn’t have to be loud to be fierce.

I didn’t come here for love. Didn’t come for soft things or promises. I came to be safe. To be useful. To earn my keep and stay invisible enough not to be discarded.

But still.

Watching him look at her like that… like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched…

God.

I want that. I want that withmyhusband.

I want him to see me in the quiet and carry me without needing to be asked. Not because I can’t walk but because I’m worth holding.

It’s a dangerous thing to want like that. Because it means I have something to lose.

Sighing, I grab the first aid box and head upstairs, creeping past Henry and Shay’s closed door to my room. In the bathroom, I remove the cloth and run my hand under the cold water. Luckily, the wound isn’t as deep as I feared, and it’s no longer oozing blood.

I quickly clean and dress the wound before exchanging my wet clothes for a cozy sweatshirt and sweatpants.

I’m about to head back downstairs when my bedroom door opens and Angus looms on the threshold, windblown and dripping wet.

His gaze falls to my bandaged hand, and concern flickers in his blue eyes. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” I tuck my hand against my side. “I saw headlights and went outside?—”

His expression darkens and his eyes narrow as he steps into the room. “You went outside.”

It’s not a question.

I lift my chin. “Yeah. Briefly.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Alone?”

---