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She’s not even a little bit like what he expected.

She is everything and more.

It’s the rough pant of my name that does me in.

A desperately whined Lottie , quickly followed by a honey-sweet, whimpered, “I love you.”

And I’m a goner. An orgasm rips through me like a goddamn tornado—Finn just about fucking rips through me too, furious thrusts coupled with a tight grip holding my hips flush against his, keeping his cock stuffed inside of me, as he finds his own release while fucking me through mine.

Spent and panting, I collapse on top of him, clammy forehead pressed to a clammy neck.

Instantly, strong arms wrap around my middle, calloused hands stroking the length of my spine, one of them taking a detour to trace the outline of the raised patch of skin on my shoulder.

My fingers find a similar mission, my thumb brushing over the healed wound on his chest.

Healed, but prominent. Raised, discolored skin that still strikes fucking fear in my heart—that I don’t think ever won’t.

A couple of years could pass rather than a couple of months, a couple of decades, a couple of damn centuries, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look for more than a few seconds at the oh-so-stark reminder that I almost lost the man I love before he even really knew I loved him.

Swallowing the fear that never quite recedes, I kiss the scarred skin lightly before rolling off of Finn.

Hissing as he slips out of me, I shiver as sticky fluid drips down my thighs—I seriously consider rolling back on him, but I don’t have time for that.

Not today. I’ve got shit to do today, shit Finn knows about.

Yet as I move to the edge of the bed and reach down for the pajama top strewn on the floor, he still slinks those arms around my waist again, stopping me from standing.

“Finn,” I reprimand, half-hearted because it’s extremely hard to chastise a man when he’s ducking beneath my t-shirt to kiss the delicate skin over my ribs. “Baby, I gotta go.”

He fucking harrumphs .

Huffing hot air against me, he retreats, but it’s fleeting.

More of a relocation, really. Those sweet, tempting kisses climb up my arms while his fingers drift down, and I’m so distracted by teeth nipping at my collarbone, that I don’t notice him fiddling with my hand—I don’t notice an unfamiliar weight on one of my fingers until I happen to glance down and see a ring sliding over my knuckle.

“Congratulations on three months sober, my love.”

Like it always does, even after so many days of hearing it every day, my breath catches at that word. That lovely word, that terrifying emotion—two things that definitely grip me at the sight of an ebony, whittled ring that fits perfectly on the fourth finger on my left hand.

I blink. “I’m more of a princess cut girl.”

Finn snorts as he briefly drops his shaking head to my thigh before peering up at me through his lashes. “Baby, God knows when I propose, I’m tying you down first.”

If ever there was a sign of my progress, it would be the distinct lack of a Lottie-shaped hole in the wall at the when of it all. “That’s extremely unromantic.”

“Yeah, well, my girl doesn’t like that shit.”

I snicker, but the amusement doesn’t take. Not with Finn looking at me like that while stroking his thumb along the goddamn ring he just put on my finger. “Ebony is for protection,” he murmurs. “Power. Luck.”

That last one makes me gulp—God knows I might need a little of that today. “On the scale of romance, I think a promise ring ranks pretty high.”

“It’s not a promise ring.”

“Not a promise ring,” I drawl, teasing. “Not an engagement ring. What is it?”

“Disappointed?”

“I mean, you give a girl a ring, she’s gonna get ideas.”

“Then I should probably wait a little before showing you the matching bassinet, huh?”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I dip to brush my lips against his. “Thank you. I love it.”

“I love you.”

“Not enough to marry me though.”

With a playful growl, Finn drags me back into bed.

And, just for him, I find a little time to spare.

“What the fuck is on your finger?”

Snorting, I drop onto the front porch between my older sister and brother, the latter of which hands me one of the many ice-cold cans of peach Crush his house is stocked with. “What does it look like?”

While I crack open my drink with one hand, Lux grabs the other, peering at its new adornment. “If you eloped, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“If you eloped, I’m gonna kick Finn’s ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I jab an elbow into my brother’s ribs, smirking at the thought, before assuring them both, “We didn’t.”

Two sets of dark eyes stay narrowed. “Engaged?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s just a ring, guys.”

“What’s just a ring?” Plopping down on the other side of our brother, my twin peers around him. “Aw. Finn made that?”

I hum, smiling as my gaze strays to the man nearby.

A toddler on his shoulders and another hiding behind his legs, Finn stretches a hand out towards my free-roaming horse, letting Ruin sniff his fingers.

As if he feels my eyes, he glances over and that smile of his grows, mouthing something I shouldn’t be able to make out from this distance, but I know.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

I twist to squint at Eliza as she saunters outside, dropping to her haunches to wrap her arms around Lux from behind. “What?” I scoff, just a little defensive. “Someone loving me?”

All four of my siblings sigh. “You letting them, dummy.”

I roll my eyes, mumbling something about their dramatics but honestly, I can’t believe it either.

I can’t believe that I fall asleep most nights with a man in my bed.

Wake up and he’s still there. Brew him coffee while he makes me breakfast. Work with him, with the animals I love, with my animals.

Sit on a porch and watch the fucking sunset while weaving wool and whittling wood.

Kiss him and touch him and love him, and I’m still so scared, but it’s not as bad anymore.

The nightmares persist, but they’re not as bad anymore either.

My therapist helps with those. Not the old man I meet every Sunday and sometimes not on Sunday too, nor the group we see together, nor the boyfriend I often find myself confessing thoughts to before I’ve even really thought them.

The professional, with a real degree and a compassionate manner and a neat office that I sit in once a week and fill with the sound of my own voice, with my feelings and my memories and my anger, God , I get out a lot of anger there, but it’s okay because then it comes out less everywhere else.

But it still does come out. Spills out of me like some uncontrollable thing. Except it’s different because I know how to handle it. How to feel it just the right amount, how to not force everyone else to feel it too. How to rein it in.

Like I do now. While my siblings croon and coo and make despicable faces, I resist the urge to flip them off or snap at them or, I don’t know, throw a punch or two.

And most of them get bored of teasing, they saunter off to rib someone else, they leave just me and Lux sitting on the porch, as if they know exactly what I need to do today.

Lux, it seems, has some kind of an inkling too.

She clears her throat. “So.”

“So.”

“Your six months are up soon.”

I swallow hard. “I know.”

“Should I put a tracker on your phone before or after I put that money in your account?”

“Neither.” I take a slug of my drink, swallowing more than just the soda—and let me tell you, nerves don’t taste nearly as good. “Don't want the money. Well, I do, but not all of it.”

“It’s yours, kid. I never should’ve kept it from you in the first place.”

“True,” I agree before sliding Lux a look that says I don’t actually care. “But I want something else instead.”

“If it’s my firstborn, then you’re shit out of luck.”

“Horses, Lux. I want horses.”

She pauses. Frowns. “My horses?”

“Some of them. Ruin and Gaia and Daphne, for sure. The rest, I’ll find myself.” I glance aside. “One of your ranch hands too. The really handsome one.”

“What the hell are you planning, Charlotte?”

“The Weber ranch is for sale.”

Realization dawns—horror soon follows. “You’re not.”

“I am,” I confirm. I already have. My bid got accepted last night, and the Weber ranch…

Well, it isn’t the Weber ranch anymore. “I want a home, Lux. Some place that’s just mine.

Some place I built. My own legacy. I wanna turn something shit into something really, really good, and I think I can.

I think that place is the place. So I bought it.

I’m gonna fill it with horses. I’m gonna do something right, I feel it, Lux, this is right . ”

She doesn’t agree.

She doesn’t disagree either.

Lux says nothing at all—she just stares at me, face painted with an expression I don’t understand.

“Well?” I press, squirming. “What do you think?”

A long, shuddering breath leaves my older sister.

Her eyes close for a second, she sighs again, and this time, I recognize the emotion tainting it.

I hear the relief. I see pride, shining and pure, in her dark eyes when they open again.

I feel it humming beneath her skin, warm and comforting, as she throws an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into her side. And I hear it in her voice too.

“Welcome home, chaos.”