Page 60

GRACE

The bathwater laps at my shoulders, warm and laced with lavender oil Cody found under the sink.

He poured it in with care that made my chest ache, big, rough hands handling the tiny glass bottles like an alchemist, using his elbow to test the water temperature.

Now, he’s perched on the edge of the tub, one boot off, the other hanging from a bent knee, watching me with a lazy smile on his face.

“You look like a siren in there,” he says quietly, swirling the bath bubbles with one finger. “Or maybe a mermaid. I haven’t decided yet.”

I smile, sinking deeper, letting the heat soak into sore muscles. “You draw a bath for all your sirens?”

“Nope.” He leans down and brushes a damp curl off my forehead. “Only you, baby.”

For a long beat, neither of us says anything because this peace between us is comfortable and precious. I close my eyes, listening to the creak of the house as it wakes up around us. Somewhere downstairs, someone’s put on coffee. A pan clangs. Boots thud .

“Last night felt like a dream,” I whisper. “All of it.”

“It didn’t for me,” Cody says. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more awake. You came back. None of us let ourselves hope.”

“I never wanted to leave, Cody,” I admit. “Deep down, I knew what I wanted, but didn’t feel like I could admit it. I was too wrapped up in my life and my fears. But I’m not anymore.”

His grin is boyish, and that softness—that real sweetness that’s all Cody—makes me feel like my ribs are cracking open in the best way.

“I knew you were brave, Grace,” he says, more serious now. “But coming back after everything? To take on this life? You’ve got more guts than all of us put together. I need you to know that.”

“Thank you,” I say, barely above a whisper.

A knock at the door pulls us both back to the moment.

“Don’t shoot,” comes Brody’s voice through the wood. “I’ve got breakfast.”

Cody chuckles. “We’re decent.”

The door opens, and Brody steps in, tray balanced in his hands, but his eyes go straight to mine. His jaw softens, and he walks over, smiling. His usually guarded expression is warm and open.

“Morning,” he says, voice low and affectionate. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, and I mean it. Last night, after their sweet welcome home, they tucked back into my bed and urged me to get a good night’s sleep. “Thanks to all of you.”

He leans down and brushes his lips over my forehead, slowly and reverently. It’s a kiss that feels like home. Then he presses one to my temple and one to my cheek before setting the tray down on the counter. “Made your favorite.”

My throat tightens. “Thank you.”

He sets the tray on the counter with zero fanfare, but I catch the way his eyes flick to the water like he’s hoping he’ll catch a look. Too bad Cody insisted on fluffing up so many bubbles.

“You didn’t have to. I would have come down.”

“I wanted to,” he says gruffly, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. “Eat before the coffee gets cold.”

Before he steps out, he reaches for my hand under the bubbles and gives it a firm, warm squeeze. “You good?”

I nod. “More than I thought I could be.”

He nods back and then leaves, closing the door behind him with consideration that makes my heart flutter all over again.

When he’s gone, Cody lifts the tray and sets it gently across the edge of the tub. “You heard the man.”

I pick up the fork, but before I take a bite, I look up at Cody.

“I’m guessing this is a one-off, right? Breakfast in the bath at eight a.m.?”

“You’re guessing correctly, unless it’s a deal breaker, of course. We can stretch to birthdays and Christmas. Maybe Thanksgiving and Easter.”

“Birthday would be awesome. A new tradition.” I smile.

“I can get behind that idea,” he says. “Especially as there’s over three hundred and sixty days to go.”

I splash him with bubbles, and he almost falls off the edge of the bath, laughing.

And suddenly, I realized that this could be my life. Happiness. Laughter. Eleven men to support me. If we can make it work.

These men aren’t quitters. They’ve proven that.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I have the love I’ve always craved.

I couldn’t be happier.

***

The bell above the general store door jingles, bright and cheerful, which feels ironic given the way my stomach’s in knots. It’s my first outing since returning to Cooper Hill Ranch, and it feels like I’m stepping out into treacherous waters.

The second I step through that door with Levi behind me and Lennon and Nash already halfway to the counter, I’m conscious of being noticed.

Conversations stop, heads turn, and the quiet is loud enough to crush bone.

I know people can be funny about strangers, and I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know people around town.

Maybe it’s paranoia, but this feels different.

I keep my chin up, hoping that the jeans, boots, and one of Lennon’s flannels knotted at the waist are enough for me to blend in.

I reach for a basket, and my hand shakes.

Behind me, Levi’s voice is low but firm. “You okay?”

I nod without looking at him. I don’t want my uncertainty to be noticeable when they all keep talking about how brave I am.

We move through the aisles. I try to focus on the list in my head—coffee, tinned fruit, headache pills, sanitary products—but every few feet, I hear it.

My name. A giggle. The word slut. And even though they don’t say it loud, they say it loud enough.

I’m the girl from the article. The one from the hashtag. The one who slept with a houseful of cowboys and turned it into a national punchline.

At the checkout, the cashier barely meets my eyes. Her mouth is tight, her hands fast. I brace for another comment, a cold smile, or maybe a refusal to ring us up.

But it’s the woman behind us in line who speaks.

“You know,” she says, “half this town’s got more secrets than a priest in Vegas. The difference is, this girl has been broadcast.”

I turn to find Mrs. Langford, the sheriff’s wife, who introduced herself after Nora’s confrontation in the diner. She’s holding a sack of chicken feed and wearing a sunhat like it’s armor. Her expression is sharp as a cattle prod. She points her finger around the room.

“Imagine all your secrets were out on social media. What words would people mutter as you walked past? ”

There’s a beat of silence while I gape in surprise, and Nash, Levi, and Lennon look around with murder in their eyes.

“You don’t have to like her,” she goes on, glancing at the people behind her. “But don’t pretend you’re any better.”

“Any of you got something to say about our family?” Levi spits, pushing his hat up to reveal the razor-sharp cut of his eyes and jaw. “Say it now. To me. Out in the open.”

I flush hot, shame still rushing through me. The silence is as loud as a pneumatic drill.

“Anyone?” Lennon growls.

“We’re waiting,” Nash says, his usual soft tone replaced by grit and fury.

The other customers look away, pretending to be staring at cans of soda and baked goods, while my cowboys crowd me on all sides.

“I didn’t think so,” Levi sneers.

“This woman is our woman,” Lennon says, pointing his clipboard at the nearest man. “You understand? And we won’t have this bullshit.”

Nash grins, tipping his hat. “Your opinion isn’t gonna change a damn thing.”

Mrs. Langford pats me on the shoulder. “You’re flavor of the month, dear, but they’ll move on. Or your cowboys will make them move on.” She leans in closer. “I know which option I’d rather choose if I were them.”

I snort, looking up at Lennon, Nash, and Levi, my cowboys who’ve formed a wall of protection all around me, showing me that they’re on my side no matter what, and even though I want to thank them all, Mrs. Langford, the men beside me, but my throat is too tight.

So I let the tears rise, hot and quiet, and I smile as the cashier finally rings me up.

Outside, the sun’s too bright. I blink against it.

Nash dips to kiss me, then asks, “You all right?”

“Yeah. I think I am. ”

Levi opens the truck door for me and leans in before I climb up.

“Proud of you,” he says.

Then he reaches around me to fasten the belt, kisses me on the tip of my nose, and closes the door.

Lennon climbs in next to me, and the first thing he does is offer me a sour worm. “You sure?” I ask. “They’re your favorites.”

“You’re my favorite,” he grins, feeding me the worm and then kissing me so deeply, he steals it from my mouth. He grins with it gripped between his teeth, then laughs as I try to wrestle him for the package.

Nash slams the tailgate shut and hops in the front seat beside Levi, who’s already starting the engine.

“Y’all flirting back there like we didn’t just survive a social crucifixion,” Nash mutters, half-amused, half-incredulous.

“She held her head high,” Levi says, glancing at me in the rearview. “That’s all that matters.”

“Thank you for fighting in my corner,” I say, tugging the sour candy away from Lennon with a triumphant grin.

“I think Mrs. Langford had the hardest punch today,” Lennon says, sliding his fingers between mine. “But I need you to know, we’ll always have your back, Grace. You don’t need to worry about anything. You have eleven feral cowboys on your side.”

The words settle in me like heat and absolute bone-deep relief.

We drive through town with the windows down, the music loud, and the dust kicking up behind us. A few folks glance our way, some still unsure, others nodding. When the truck finally turns off the main road toward the ranch, I lean my head on Lennon’s shoulder.

Nash stretches his arm out across the back of the bench seat. “I can’t wait to get home,” he says.

I nod, eyes half-closed, heart full. “Me, too.”

There’s more to face. More conversations. More healing. But as we make our way back to the ranch that used to feel like the end of the world and has now become my final destination, I know this much for sure: I’m never walking life’s road alone. I’ll always have my cowboys by my side.