Page 10 of Finding His Redemption

“That’s not what I meant.”

She met his gaze steadily. “Then maybe you should just say what you mean for once.”

She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Boone had a thing for her, but he’d never acted on the attraction. He was too damn honorable for that, too aware of the trauma in her past, though she’d never told him about it. He’d justknownfrom day one and treated her like fine china. So many times she wanted to reach out and shake him, tell him to stop treating her like she might break, that she was stronger than she looked, and if he wanted to make a move, he should do it. If he’d asked her out in the beginning, she probably would’ve said yes. He was a handsomeman with all that dark scruff on his hard jaw and that voice like whiskey and sin. But he was also as stubborn as a Montana winter was long and measured his words so carefully that it made her want to scream.

She’d tried, God help her, to draw him out. To flirt. To tease. To get some reaction out of him that wasn’t just a grunt or a long-suffering sigh. Eventually, she’d realized that Boone Callahan was emotionally constipated. Loving him—if she’d ever tried—would’ve been like running head-first into a brick wall over and over, hoping it might eventually feel like a door.

No, thank you.

And maybe that wasn’t fair. Boone was a good man. Steady. Kind. Protective. But he would’ve always held her at arm’s length, and she didn’t want to be a porcelain doll on a pedestal. She wanted someone who saw all her cracks and held her anyway.

Boone sighed and pulled off his hat, running a hand through his dark hair. “Okay. His name is Jaxon Thorne. He’s fresh out of prison after serving?—”

“I don’t need to know his record.”

He studied her for a long moment, his jaw working like he wanted to say more. But he only exhaled slowly and nodded. “Jax got to the ranch late last night and took off before dawn.”

“So you came to drag him back?”

“I came to make sure he’s okay. And to convince him to come home.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Then that’s his choice. But he needs to make it with a clear head, not running on fear and whatever demons are chasing him.”

The sound of footsteps made them both turn. Jax emerged from the storage room with Oliver at his side, the little boychattering about fire trucks again. Jax was almost smiling, but his expression shuttered the moment he saw Boone.

“There you are,” Boone said gruffly. “You had us worried.”

Jax didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that.” Boone nodded toward the table. “Mind if we talk?”

chapter

three

Jax didn’t wantto talk. Didn’t want to sit in this bright, cheerful bakery with its sea-monster logo and cinnamon-scented air while a man who looked like he bench-pressed small cars explained all the ways his freedom hung by a thread. But Boone’s steady gaze left no room for argument, so Jax found himself sliding back into the chair by the window.

Boone settled across from him, the wooden chair creaking in protest under his weight. He set his hat on the table, a gesture that seemed to signal this wouldn’t be a quick conversation.

The morning rush began the moment Nessie unlocked the door and flipped the sign to “open.” A cluster of men in worn Carhartt jackets huddled near the counter, their voices a low rumble of cattle prices and weather predictions. Two women in scrubs claimed a booth by the far wall, shoulders slumped from night shift exhaustion. An old man with gnarled hands nursed a coffee at the counter.

And through it all moved Nessie, a whirlwind of efficiency in her bright yellow apron, pouring coffee and calling customers by name, somehow keeping track of a dozen conversations at once while her son perched on a stool behind the counter with a coloring book.

She approached their table, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Jax. The eggs were fluffy, flecked with herbs and what looked like bits of cheese, nothing like the gray, rubbery mass they’d served in prison. A slice of buttered toast and some fresh fruit completed the plate. It was the kind of breakfast normal people ate.

“Coffee, Boone?” Nessie asked, already pouring it into the mug she’d set before him.

“Thanks.”

Nessie’s gaze flicked to Jax, soft with something that might have been concern. “Eat while it’s hot.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, but made no move toward the food as she walked away.

“You planning to stare that breakfast to death?” Boone asked, doctoring his coffee with a splash of cream.

Jax picked up his fork and pushed eggs around the plate. The smell made his stomach clench with hunger, but his throat felt too tight to swallow. “Not hungry.”