Page 18 of The Rancher's Runaway Bride
“Mommy Layla? Are you okay?” Carson’s small voice breaks through the panic clawing at me. He’s watching me with wide, curious eyes, his fork paused mid-air.
I plaster on a smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
He nods, satisfied, and returns to his pancakes, but my mind is racing. I glance over my shoulder at the waitress, trying to gauge if she noticed me stiffen. She doesn’t seem to. She’s busy pouring coffee for a trucker at the counter, her back to me.
I debate what to do, my hands trembling under the table. Should I run? Leave this new life I’m building behind before it’s ripped away from me? The thought of abandoning Carson and Cal cuts deep, the ache settling in my chest like a weight. They’ve become my everything in such a short time, and the idea of walking away feels unbearable. And I promised Cal I wouldn’t. Walking away now would break me. But what else am I supposed to do?
If I stay, I’ll be putting them in danger. I’ve been lying to Cal since the day I arrived. He doesn’t know the full extent of what I left behind—the power my father wields, the connections my ex-fiancé has, and the lengths they’ll go to bring me back.
I swallow hard, fighting back tears as Carson shoves the last bite of pancake into his mouth and grins at me, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me.
That evening, the ranch house is unusually quiet. Cal moves through the kitchen with his usual deliberate efficiency, fixing dinner while Duke lounges by the fireplace. Carson is playing with his toy horses in the living room, his little voice narrating their adventures.
I sit at the table, poking at my plate, unable to eat. My thoughts are too loud, my guilt too consuming. Cal glances at me from across the room, his sharp eyes narrowing.
“Spill it,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.
I blink at him, startled. “What?”
“You’ve been acting off all day,” he says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His broad shoulders fill the space, his presence commanding even in his relaxed stance. “What’s going on, Layla?”
I hesitate, my throat tight. He’s watching me so closely, his piercing gaze rooting me to the spot. I know I can’t lie to him, not about this. He deserves the truth.
Taking a deep breath, I push my chair back and stand, pacing the kitchen. “I overheard something at the diner this morning,” I start, my voice shaky. “The waitress said some men were asking about a woman named Lisa.”
His expression darkens immediately, his jaw tightening. “Lisa?” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous.
I nod, my hands twisting together. “That’s… that’s my real name. I didn’t tell you because I was trying to start fresh, to leave everything behind.”
He straightens, his arms dropping to his sides. “And now they’ve found you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But if they have, I don’t want to put you or Carson in danger. Maybe I should?—”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his tone sharp. He steps forward, closing the distance between us. “Don’t even think about running.”
Tears blur my vision, and I shake my head. “Cal, you don’t understand. My father and my ex—they’re powerful, connected. If they’re looking for me, they won’t stop.”
His hands grip my shoulders, firm but not rough. His eyes blaze with determination, the intensity of his gaze stealing my breath. “No one is taking you away from us,” he growls. “Do you hear me? No one.”
I tremble under his touch, his words sinking into my bones. The possessiveness in his voice is electrifying, equal parts terrifying and comforting. For the first time, I feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to face this alone.
“But what if?—”
“Stop,” he interrupts again, his grip tightening slightly. “We’ll figure this out together. You’re not running, Layla. Not now, not ever.”
His words are a vow, and the weight of them steals my breath. I search his face, finding nothing but raw, unfiltered emotion. He’s not just saying this to reassure me. He means it.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “Why?” I whisper. “Why are you so sure about me?”
His expression softens, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Because you’ve already worked your way into my life, into Carson’s life. You belong here, with us. And I’m not letting anyone take that away. Just let them try to take you from me, I willendthem.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb, his touch lingering. The silence between us is thick, charged with an unspoken understanding. I lean into him, resting my forehead against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me close.
For the first time in years, I feel safe.
Later, after Carson has gone to bed, Cal and I sit by the fire, the warmth and crackle of the flames filling the quiet space. Duke is sprawled out at our feet, snoring softly.
Cal pours us each a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the firelight. He hands one to me, his fingers brushing mine as he does. The simple touch sends a shiver down my spine.
