Page 60 of Montana Justice

He nodded and cut the connection without another word. No one was even a bit surprised at the abrupt departure.

The walk across the Resting Warrior Ranch was short, but the mental shift required felt enormous. From dirty cops and drug dealers to family dinner—the constant push and pull of my life these days. The other men seemed to handle the transition easier, already joking and laughing as we approached the main lodge.

The sounds of joyful chaos reached us before we even got to the door—children’s laughter mixing with adult conversation, the clatter of dishes, someone calling out to corral a wayward toddler. Through the windows, warm light spilled out onto the darkening ground, making the lodge look like something from a Christmas card.

I pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped into organized mayhem. The smell of home cooking—lasagna, fresh bread, something cinnamon for dessert—mixed with the energy of twenty-plus people gathering for their monthly tradition.

My eyes found Piper immediately.

She stood over by the dessert table with Evelyn and Lena Willaims, Caleb secure in her arms, and she was laughing. Actually laughing—head thrown back, shoulders shaking, the sound bright and genuine enough to carry over the general din. Lena, complete with her purple-streaked hair, was gesturing animatedly, probably telling one of her outrageous stories from Deja Brew, and Piper was hanging on every word.

The sight hit me like a physical blow. She was still so sad lately when she thought I wasn’t watching. I’d catch her staring into space with tears in her eyes, or find her sitting in Caleb’s room at night, rocking him long after he’d fallen asleep. Sometimes I’d wake at three a.m. to find her side of the bed empty, and I’d discover her on the back porch, wrapped inmy old flannel shirt, looking at the stars like they might hold answers to questions she couldn’t voice.

But here, now, surrounded by these people who’d welcomed her without judgment, she looked young and free. The weight that usually bent her shoulders had lifted, even if just temporarily.

The past week had shifted something fundamental between us. After that first date—her first real date ever, which still gutted me to think about—we’d been sharing my bed every night. Not just for sex, though, God…that had been incredible.

This morning flashed through my mind with vivid clarity—the way she’d gasped when I’d lifted her against the tile wall of the shower, water streaming over her skin as she wrapped her legs around my waist. The way her nails had dug into my shoulders when I’d thrust into her, her head thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. The broken way she’d moaned my name when she came, her whole body trembling against mine while I held her through it, water turning cold around us but neither of us caring.

The memory sent heat straight through me, and I had to force myself to think about budget reports and traffic citations before I embarrassed myself in a room full of my friends and children, for Christ’s sake.

But beyond the physical connection, we’d been building something. Falling asleep tangled together, waking up the same way. Middle-of-the-night feedings where we’d take turns with Caleb, half asleep but working as a team. Small touches throughout the day—her hand on my arm when she passed me in the kitchen, my fingers trailing across her back as I moved behind her. The thousand tiny intimacies that made a relationship real.

Piper saw me and started toward me through the crowd, navigating with the easy grace of someone who’d gotten usedto carrying a baby everywhere. Caleb bounced in her arms, reaching for me, making happy sounds that drew indulgent looks from the other parents.

This was what I wanted. This woman who’d survived things that would break most people, this child who’d brought us together, this family we were carefully constructing from broken pieces and stubborn hope.

The investigation waiting back in that conference room, the dirty cop among my own people, the drugs poisoning our community—all of it faded in the face of this moment.

Piper and Caleb, moving toward me through the warm chaos of family dinner. Coming home to me, even if just for these few hours before duty called again.

Chapter 21

Piper

The warmthfrom the fireplace mixed with laughter and conversation, creating a cocoon of belonging I’d never experienced before. I sat at the massive dining table in the Resting Warrior Ranch lodge, surrounded by people who’d welcomed me without question, and tried not to cry from the sheer overwhelming normalcy of it all.

This was what family really meant. Not blood relations who used and discarded you, who saw children as possessions or pawns. But people who chose you, who passed your baby around like he’d always been part of their circle, who noticed the slightest tension in your shoulders and immediately handed him back without making you ask.

“More lasagna?” Emma appeared at my elbow with a serving spoon poised over my already full plate.

“I couldn’t possibly.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, genuinely stuffed for maybe the third time in my life. “I’ve already had two helpings.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do at family dinner,” Evelyn said from across the table, bouncing her toddler on her knee. “Eat until you hate yourself a little, then have dessert anyway.”

“Speaking of which,” Daniel called out, “who made the apple pie? Because I need to know who to worship for the scent coming out of the kitchen.”

“That would be Jada,” Lena said, pointing with her fork. “Girl’s got hidden depths.”

Jada flushed under the attention. “It’s just following a recipe.”

“Following a recipe, my ass,” Hunter said, grabbing his fiancée Jada by the same part of the anatomy, then quickly added, “Sorry, kids,” when several small heads turned his way.

Some meat fell on the floor, and a couple of dogs scampered over to see if they could get it.

“Remember when Thunder decided he was afraid of butterflies?” Lark’s voice carried from the other end of the table. “This massive security dog, trained to take down armed intruders, running in circles because a monarch landed on his nose?”

“That wasn’t as bad as when Duchess figured out how to unlock her stall,” someone else chimed in. “Found her in the feed room at three a.m., looking guilty as hell with grain all over her muzzle.”

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