Chapter 13

Ash

When I wake, the sun is just starting to rise, casting soft light into the room and giving the walls a hazy glow. I stretch for a minute, working out the ever-present kinks in my body. Even though I'm sore, I feel good. Refreshed, even.

A smile spreads across my face as I remember the man who's at least partially responsible for my good mood. I wouldn't be surprised if Jackson is already up and moving around the ranch, even though it's the weekend. He's probably grumping about, overthinking what happened between us last night. But somehow, I know he's not regretting it.

The look in his eye as he left was proof enough of that. His gaze had been pinned on me like he didn't want to go. Like he was afraid I might slip through his fingertips given the chance.

I get it. I don't know the whole story of what happened between him and his ex, but Jackson has clearly been hurt. He's wary of that happening again. The best I can do is show him I have no desire to be a cause of more pain.

When I fling off my comforter and transfer my weight to the ground, there's a moment where the bottom of my feet sting. Peripheral neuropathy. It's worse when my back is acting up, the nerves in my body affected by the inflammation connected to the pain. It's like a shitty chain reaction—pain leads to more pain. But I walk through it, and by the time I reach the hall, the pinprick sensation has mostly passed.

I take care of my business quickly and head downstairs, finding a half-full pot of coffee in the kitchen. I fill up a mug and make my way to the back porch to enjoy the morning view. The air is cool, cutting through the sweater I put on, but the sight of the mountains lit pink in the early morning sun is oh so worth the chill.

It's idyllic here. Beautiful in a way I'm not sure I could ever get sick of.

I'm startled from my thoughts by a voicesaying, "Morning."

Huffing a laugh, I turn around. "Morning, Lawson."

The eldest Darling brother is sitting in a chair, his own mug of coffee in hand. I take a seat next to him, looking out over the dairy girls, as Jackson calls them. They're gathered in small groups, and I can't help but wonder if they form friendships like we do, or if it's simply prey instinct keeping them drawn together.

Lawson clears his throat softly, as if he's warming up his speaking muscles. "You settling in all right?"

"Yeah, I am," I tell him. "Honestly, it's been a really easy transition. If anything, that's the odd part."

He nods. "You think you're sticking around then?"

Ah . So this is about a certain grumpy cowboy we both know.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assure Lawson, not begrudging him looking out for his brother. Nor surprised he caught on to what's happening between me and Jackson.

He nods again, turning his gaze out over the ranchland as he sips his coffee. "Otto did a number on him," he says quietly.

I let out a breath. "I don't think that's something I should hear from you, Lawson. No offense. It's just…he'll tell me when he's ready."

He looks at me again, gaze serious, his brown eyes—so like Marigold's—setting him apart from his brothers. "People leave," he says simply. "Sometimes, they leave."

My chest squeezes tight. I don't think he's talking about Otto or even me. "Your wife?" I ask as gently as possible.

His eyes widen, surprise flashing before guilt sets in. So…not his wife, then.

Before I can find out who walked out of Lawson's past, Hank comes into view. He has a gallon of pink paint in one hand, the color streaked down the sides of the tin, and his beekeeper's hat is on his head.

I huff a laugh as he waves our way. "You know what that's about?"

Lawson shakes his head. "Not a clue. One of his hobbies, I'm guessing."

Hank passes, and Lawson stands. He turns to me with a sigh.

"Ashley, maybe it's not my place to say anything, but I love my family. Colton would tell Jackson to simply let loose and have fun for once. He thinks it's that easy. But what he doesn't understand about our brother is that his heart has always led first. Jackson doesn't know any other way. So just…be sure, all right? It won't be casual for him."

I nod, my pulse beating swiftly. Maybe Lawson's words should scare me, but if anything, they have the opposite effect. The man himself nods back before walking around the corner out of sight.

I think I just got the big brother shakedown. I feel…strangely honored.

When my coffee is gone and the sky has turned an airy blue, I return my mug to the kitchen and grab the yoga mat I bought in town. My exercise routine isn't strenuous by any means, and usually, I do it in my room. But there are fewer employees about this time on a Sunday, so I head to the back deck again and enjoy the scenery as I run through the paces, loosening the muscles between my shoulder blades, those in my neck and down my spine, a few out through my arms, and, finally, my hamstrings. I'm near the end of my stretches when I feel a presence off to my right.

I nearly laugh. "Morning, Jack."

Jackson's footsteps thunk up the wooden stairs, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches. He looks good. Handsome. But he always does.

"Are we back to being quiet?" I ask.

"No," he answers, voice a little rough around the edges. "Just…"

"Enjoying the view?" I tease.

He grunts what might be a begrudging affirmative. I sit upright, crossing my legs in front of me as Jackson takes a seat in a rocker, the furniture shifting slightly with his weight. He props his elbows on his knees and looks off in the direction of the cattle.

"Did you want to talk about last night?" I ask, wondering if that's why he's here.

He looks at me almost sharply. "We did, didn't we?"

This time, I do laugh. "I'm not sure the words that came out of either of our mouths could be classified as talking ."

Jackson's cheeks pinken slightly at that, a damn endearing sight.

"Do you want it to happen again?" I ask, praying like hell I haven't read him wrong.

After a moment, he nods once, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Jack… Are you out at work? Because if you're expecting this to stay a secret, I think we've already failed."

He huffs. "'Cause somebody is damn loud."

"Excuse me," I say, chuckling at his brusque delivery. "I'm not the only one who was loud. You're welcome for that, by the way."

He scrubs a hand down his face, but I swear he's smiling. "I'm not…" He blows out a breath and tries again, his eyes aimed away. "I'm not gonna ask you to be a secret, Ash. I don't play games, all right? That's not what I want. Everybody here knows I'm gay. It's not a problem."

I let loose a breath, and Jackson looks over at me almost warily.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing. It's just… That was a damn good answer, Jack."

He grunts, glancing away again, self-conscious or nervous, maybe. The man is like a porcupine, all squishy soft beneath his quills.

"Christ, you're cute," I mutter.

He looks affronted. "I'm not cute ."

"Mhm."

"I'm not ."

"It's a compliment, Jack," I assure him, standing and rolling up my yoga mat. "Want to have lunch with me today?"

If he's surprised by the offer, he doesn't show it.

"Are you gonna keep calling me cute?" he asks.

"Might," I admit.

He hangs his head, grumbling in a way that has me grinning. Before he can give me an answer, my phone rings. I pull it out and check the screen.

"My mom," I tell Jackson, accepting the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, honey," my mom says. "How's the ranch?"

"Great," I tell her, glad to hear a distinct lack of judgment in her tone compared to the last time we talked. "I'm loving it here. The job is perfect for me, and everyone has been really welcoming."

Jackson looks off toward the petting farm, giving me some semblance of privacy, but I don't miss his pleased smile.

"That's good," my mom says, tone shifting. "Ashley, honey, I heard something from Linda at the country club this morning. You know Linda, Nicholas's mom's neighbor?"

"I believe so," I tell her, my stomach twisting. "What'd she say?"

"Nicholas is on his way to Montana."

For a second, her words don't compute. "What? Why ?"

"Well, apparently you haven't been returning his calls," she says.

"Because we broke up."

Jackson's gaze snaps back my way, his expression hardening into something cautious, almost wary. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile.

"I know," my mom says in my ear. "But I guess he has some things to say."

"And he couldn't wait for me to call him back?" I wonder aloud, scrubbing over my eyes before I let out a groan. What could he possibly have to say that's so important it warranted a trip out here? "Thanks for letting me know, Mom."

"Of course. Call me soon, and we'll catch up."

"Sounds good. Love you."

"Love you, too."

When I hang up, Jackson is watching me. Waiting. It's a simple thing, really, but I like the fact that he wants to know what's going on. That he isn't running.

"My ex is coming," I tell him. "Because I wasn't answering my phone."

His brow pinches. "That's…"

"Rash?" I supply.

He grunts, and I huff a laugh. Shaking my head, I pull up Nicholas's number and hit call. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail.

"Of fucking course," I mutter, just as there's a beep. "Nicholas, give me a call, please. I'll answer."

I hang up and switch over to my text thread with Virginia.

Me: Nicholas is on his way here. He doesn't know my address, so he might head to your place. Keep an eye out?

Jackson clears his throat. "Is there any chance of you two—"

"No," I say immediately, meeting his gaze head-on. "We're done. Completely."

He nods, brow furrowed. My phone pings.

Virginia: No need, baby boy. I have my eyes on him right now. He's here.

"Well, shit," I puff out. "I guess I'm going for a ride."

"We," Jackson says definitively, standing up.

There's a stutter in my chest. A sway and a settle that reminds me distinctly of being on Shorty's back. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," Jackson grunts. "We can get that lunch while we're in town."

My lips quirk. "Jackson Darling," I say slowly. "You better watch out."

"For what?" he asks a little warily.

I give him a smile, tucking my yoga pad underneath my arm. "You keep saying stuff like that, and you might not ever see the end of me."

He does his best to look put-out, but I don't miss the satisfaction in his eyes. "So long as you stop calling me cute."

"I make no promises," I answer. "Now, come on. Better not leave fate waiting."

Jackson drives us into town in his truck. He's quiet on the way, and I leave him to his silence, my own thoughts occupied with why Nicholas flew all the way across the country just to speak to me.

He never once tried to stop me from leaving.

Jackson pulls into an empty spot in front of The Barrel and shuts off his truck. Virginia told us to meet them inside, seeing as her apartment is within walking distance and the bar will be closed for a few hours still. Good neutral ground.

I grab the door handle, but something stops me from getting out.

"All right?" Jackson asks, voice low and rumbly in the confines of the cab.

I nod. "Think so. Maybe? No." I let go of the handle and turn to face him. "Do you know what he said to me when I told him I thought we should split? He said, ‘okay.' Just okay , as if I'd told him I was running to the store for milk. He didn't care, so why is he here? What did he come for?"

Jackson's brows draw in, but his face remains otherwise impassive. "He wants you back."

I huff. "How do you figure?"

"Why wouldn't he?" he shoots back, the words nearly punching the breath from my lungs. "He made a mistake. So he's here to fix it."

"If that's the case, I don't want to fix it. I know I made it sound like our break was sudden, but we'd been drifting apart for well over a year before we separated. There's nothing left to fix."

Jackson nods slowly, seemingly lost in thought. "And you're sure?"

"Positive," I tell him.

His eyes meet mine again, searching. And then he swiftly exits the truck.

I stare after him for a beat before jumping into action. "Jackson," I hiss, shutting my door and rounding the vehicle.

He tugs the front door of the bar open, disappearing between the giant barrel planters. I jog to catch up.

When I get inside The Barrel, I spot Virginia first. She's sitting at a table in the center of the room, posture stiff and one leg crossed over the other. Her eyes soften when they reach me, but it's clear she's not happy. My gaze shifts to Nicholas next. He stands quickly as Jackson and I approach, his eyes sweeping past Jackson and landing on me. He looks happy to see me, and, honestly, it catches me off guard.

Jackson reaches the table first, coming to a stop a couple feet away from my ex. I catch up a second later, huffing a breath.

"Ashley," Nicholas says, giving me an almost apologetic smile. "Sorry for turning up like this, but I need to talk to you."

Jackson shifts a little, drawing Nicholas's gaze.

"Uh," my ex says, clearly thrown by the extra company. Even so, he holds out his hand politely. "Nicholas Murphy. Sorry, but who are you?"

Jackson wraps his arm around me, ignoring Nicholas's outstretched hand. With his fingers curled against my hip in a possessive hold, he declares, easy as can be, "I'm Ash's partner."

Nicholas's eyes widen. Virginia's eyes widen. In fact, the only one of us who doesn't look gobsmacked is Jackson himself. He's staring my ex down evenly, as if he didn't just drop a bomb inside the room.

Holy freaking shit .

My grin is slow but steady as I turn to face my ex. "Yeah. What he said."