Page 117 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“I'll fix shit, I'll move shit, I'll cut shit,” I shouted across the field. “But I do nottouchshit!”

Marcus grunted and tossed another steaming pile into the container hooked to the back of the ATV. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve made your boundaries real clear.”

I muttered a string of curses under my breath and sat back in the seat. The heat was relentless, and the mower seat was hot enough to cook my ass straight through my jeans. But none of that was why I was in a foul mood. That was all Gabby.

I didn’t know where she was. Didn’t know if she was okay—if her leg was healing, if her nightmares were getting worse, or if she was sleeping at all. I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

Just that kiss. That whispered I love you that I’d meant with everything in me. But it hadn’t been a kiss that promised tomorrow—it promised I’d wait. And waiting was killing me.

“You’re scaring’ the horses,” Marcus called out. I glanced over, and sure enough, one of the mares had moved clear to the far end of the field, flicking her tail like she could sense the storm rolling inside me.

I exhaled hard. “You’d be pissy too if the woman you—” I stopped short and rubbed at the back of my neck. “If the woman you cared about disappeared, and no one would tell you a damn thing.”

Marcus looked up, his face sobering. “I’d be furious. I’d probably break half the shit in my barn just to let it out, but I’d also be making plans.”

“Plans?” I echoed, squinting at him.

“Yeah.” He leaned his shovel against the ATV. “Plans for when she comes back, so she’s got something solid waiting. Something safe and good.”

I stared out at the trees swaying in the distance. “Like what, Disney trips? Candlelit dinners? Paint a couple walls and call it home?”

“You’ve got a place in Orlando you never use. You sleep here more than you do in that damn house. Maybe it’s time you made it an actual home, not just a crash pad. You want her to feel safe, start there.”

He had a point, and the truth of it hit harder than I liked.

“What else?”

He shrugged. “Call Sasha. Ask what Gabby likes and build around that. Do stuff that shows you’re serious and that she’s got security. But don’t forget about you because you need that too. You’ve been walking through fire, same as her.”

I scratched my beard and winced at how long it had gotten. I looked like a damn swamp hermit. Taking a deep breath in, I winced as I realized I probably smelled like one, too.

“You’re right,” I breathed. “Holy crap, but you’re actually right.”

And instead of turning the mower back around to finish the field, I veered off straight for the edge, not giving a damn about the patchy mess I was leaving behind.

“Webb!” Marcus bellowed from behind me. “You leave that field like that, and I swear to God?—”

“I’m making plans!” I shouted back over my shoulder.

I parked the mower near the barn, jumped down, and jogged into the house to pack. I didn’t need much—just a few clothes, some tools, and my charger. It wasn’t about what I took with me. I just needed to move.

By the time I slid behind the wheel of my truck and pulled out of the ranch, something shifted. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of purpose again, like there was still something I could do.

I grabbed my phone, scrolled to Sasha’s number, and hit call.

It rang once. Then twice.

And then her voice came through—breathless, tight, and already telling me everything I needed to know. She was the person who could really help me with this.

“Have you heard anything yet?”

I stared at the road ahead, the city skyline still miles away. “No, but I’m getting ready for when I do.”

Chapter 37

Gabby

The courthouse steps felt steeper than they actually were, probably because my legs were still trembling with the weight of it all being over. Three weeks of court. Three weeks of watching every lie unravel under oath. Three weeks of waiting for justice. And today, finally, justice had been served.

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