Page 33 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

T he desert wind whispered through the cottonwoods, tugging at the wind chimes that hung from the porch beam. A soft tinkling drifted through the open door, mingling with the warm scent of sage and sun-dried earth.

Shay sat cross-legged on a cushioned chair in Henley’s office, a mug of chamomile tea cooling in her hands. The room was simple—earth-toned walls, worn wood floors, soft light. No clocks. No buzzing electronics. Just peace.

Or at least the illusion of it.

Henley sat across from her in a matching chair, legs tucked up, notebook closed on the table beside her. “You slept last night.”

It wasn’t a question, but Shay nodded anyway. “For the first time in… a while… not a single nightmare.”

“Your shoulders aren’t so high, either.”

Shay gave a tired smile. “I still feel like they’re hovering around my ears most of the day.”

“That’s normal,” Henley said gently. “You went through something that would’ve broken most people.”

“I feel like pieces of me are coming back together, snapping into place where they belong, but not the same way as before,” Shay murmured. “Like… different… but the same. Like the ground under me shifted, and I’m still trying to find where I stand.”

Henley nodded. “That’s grief, trauma, truth—all colliding at once. But you’re standing, Shay. That matters.”

“So much of my life has changed in a single heartbeat. My mom died and she was my whole world. I loved her so much. I understand why she lied to me. I forgive her for that. There’s no anger or even a hint of resentment for what she did anymore.

” She shifted in her seat. “I don’t even blame her for what happened.

She couldn’t have predicted what Edmonds did.

I’m just so uncertain about… I don’t know…

I just still sometimes feel like I’m stuck.

Like I’m circling the drain, but then I get mad at myself because it’s over. ”

“The danger’s over. But you said it yourself—you’re dealing with change.

With grief, something that you haven’t really had the chance to fully allow yourself to process.

” Henley leaned forward. “But I get the feeling we’ve shifted the conversation away from what happened in that cabin to something else. ”

Shay stared down at her tea. “Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone in a few weeks? Like the kind of love that roots deep? The kind of love that can be trusted and lasts forever?”

Henley didn’t answer right away.

Shay glanced up. “I don’t mean crushes or flings. I mean something that catches hold in your bones.”

“Moose,” Henley said simply.

Shay’s lips parted in a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Moose.”

Henley leaned forward. “Tell me what scares you.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Shay said quickly.

“That’s not it. I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.

It’s just—how fast it happened. How certain I am.

That kind of certainty should take time, right?

I mean, I didn’t think too hard on it—but then I was kidnapped and held at gunpoint and my mind is still somewhat not matching my heart, you know? ”

“I know. But sometimes the right person walks in and time stops needing to matter.” Henley tilted her head. “The real question is—are you afraid because you’re waiting for it to disappear? Or because it’s finally real? And Moose is standing still. He’s not vanishing.”

Shay’s throat tightened.

Henley didn’t press. She never did.

“I think,” Shay said slowly, “it’s that…

I’ve spent so much of my life believing I was someone else.

That my story was one thing when it wasn’t.

Moose came along at a time when everything was unraveling.

And instead of stepping back, he stepped in.

He didn’t just save me. He gave me a place to land and he never tries to change me.

Or tell me what to think or how to feel.

When I have a nightmare, he’s just kind of there, with me, telling me it’s okay when I half expect him to tell me to just get over it. ”

“He’s had his share of nightmares, Shay.” Henley smiled softly. “But it sounds like he’s someone you want to build a life with.”

Shay nodded. “He wants me to come to Virginia and move in with him.”

“Is that something you think you want?” Henley held up her hand.

“I’ve said this many times to you before, but I feel the need to say it again, especially because I consider Moose a friend.

There are no judgments here. Your feelings and opinions are safe with me.

No matter where you are in your relationship and your comfort in where you want it to go, I’m here to help you navigate it. ”

“I know. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t feel safe.

I think I just wanted someone to tell me I’m not crazy for being so madly in love with someone I just met.

Or feeling like I could build a world around him.

” Shay had always felt loved by her mother.

Lake George had been a safe haven, and in some ways, it would always represent a little piece of comfort.

But it wasn’t where she wanted to be. “I’ve never been to Virginia, and yet everything about it sounds awesome.

” Shay smiled. “Including the damn chickens.”

Henley laughed that sweet, soft laugh of hers that always filled Shay’s chest with a calmness she couldn’t quite explain. “And what about the rest of your life?” Henley asked. “Your work? Your sense of purpose? Where do those things fit in Virginia?”

That part hurt a little more to answer. Shay swirled the tea in her cup.

“I loved the idea of being a school counselor. I thought it meant paying homage to my mom. But… I don’t know if that’s what I want to do now.

After everything that’s happened, I’ve been thinking…

” She looked up. “What you do here—it’s different.

It’s deeper. You help people crawl out of real darkness. People like Moose. Like me.”

Henley stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“I want to do that,” Shay said. “I want to go back to school. Get the training. Become a therapist. Work with survivors. With veterans. With people trying to piece themselves back together.”

“In Virginia?” Henley asked, but her smile said she already knew the answer.

Shay nodded, slower this time. “I think that’s where I belong. With Moose. And with a purpose that doesn’t just stop at the edge of a classroom.”

Henley reached for her notebook but didn’t open it. “You’ve survived things most people can’t imagine. But what’s more impressive is that you’re choosing to grow in the aftermath. That’s rare. And brave.”

“I don’t always feel brave.”

“You don’t have to,” Henley said. “You just have to keep moving forward.”

Shay exhaled, the weight in her chest easing a little.

Outside, the wind shifted again, warm and dry, brushing against the windows like a promise.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Shay believed she might just be exactly where she was meant to be.

Moose – Late Afternoon | The Refuge, New Mexico

The sun dipped low over the mountains, casting everything in golden light. The wind was mild, kicking up the scent of hay and dust and something distinctly cow.

Moose leaned against the split-rail fence near the small corral where the resident cow stood with noble disdain. Brick and Tonka were on either side of him, boots planted in the dirt, the kind of men who said more with silence than most did with paragraphs.

"Tell me again," Tonka said, suspiciously squinting at Moose’s phone screen. “How many chickens do you have? And why?”

Moose held the phone up and scrolled to the photo—a dozen hens pecking around the coop in his backyard, one of them perched proudly on the ramp like she owned the damn property.

"That's Henrietta," Moose said, deadpan. "She lays the blue eggs. Likes Fleetwood Mac. I have so many these days, I lose count, and they’re therapy, just like all your animals.”

Tonka blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. "No way in hell. I thought you were messing with me."

Brick leaned over to look. “I thought he was messing with me about the names. I mean, how do you tell them apart?”

"Of course they have names," Moose said, swiping again. "Henrietta, Nugget, Eggatha, Yolko Ono, Cluck Norris, Mrs. Doubtfire, Beyoncé. And they have personalities. Big personalities.”

Tonka damn near doubled over, wheezing. “Cluck Norris? Oh my God. I’ve got to tell my daughter about that one. She’ll go bonkers.”

“Fastest beak in the East,” Moose said with a grin.

Brick shook his head, amused. “Man goes from dive specialist to chicken whisperer.”

Moose shrugged. “Chickens don’t shoot back. And they come when I call. Mostly.”

Tonka wiped a hand over his face. “We need chickens. Right here. Get some little ones, raise ’em up. Teach the guys to care for ’em. Bet the guests would love it.”

“Teach the guys or teach yourself?” Brick asked.

“Both,” Tonka said, not even blinking.

A beat of silence passed before Brick gave Moose a sidelong glance. “So. Edmonds.”

The lightness drained but not entirely. There was something solid under it now. Closure.

“Locked up,” Moose said. “Ry and Jacob dug up enough to bury him for three lifetimes. The jury may have never voted, but it didn’t matter.

The minute the kidnapping and blackmail evidence surfaced, he was done.

Add in the money laundering, conspiracy, and his attempt to frame me—he’s not walking out of this one. ”

“Still pissed he got a shot off,” Tonka muttered, looking at the bandage visible under Moose’s rolled-up sleeve.

“Just the arm,” Moose said. “Barely grazed anything important.”

“You’re right-handed.”

“Not when I shoot left.”

Brick smirked. “And Shay?”

Moose’s chest tightened—then loosened as he exhaled, watching the horizon where the golden light met the open sky.

“She’s here. She’s okay. Nightmares are fewer.

She’s breathing easier. Lighter. I can see the spark returning to her eyes.

She’s talking to Henley,” Moose said. “Shay’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. ”

Tonka tilted his head. “You in love with her?”

There was no hesitation. “Yeah. I am.”

Brick crossed his arms. “Fast.”

Moose nodded. “Yeah. But right.”

And that was that.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to Henley’s office open. Shay stepped out, her shoulders relaxed, face soft with thought. She spotted him, and a small smile curved her lips.

“I’ll catch up with you boys later,” Moose said, already moving.

“Bring back chicken plans,” Tonka called.

Moose gave him a lazy salute.

Shay met him halfway across the field, her hands tucked into the sleeves of a soft gray sweater—his sweater, and she wore it well—eyes still a little glassy from whatever healing Henley had worked. But she looked more grounded than he’d seen her in days.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, tugging her gently into a hug. She sank into it, warm and solid in his arms.

They walked toward their cabin, side by side, boots crunching the gravel path.

“I told Henley I might want to go back to school,” Shay said. “Not to be a counselor. Not the kind I was trained to be. Not the kind my mother was. I want to help people like the ones who come here. Like what we’ve seen. What we’ve lived. Maybe work with veterans.”

He glanced at her. “You’d be damn good at it.”

“I was thinking… maybe I could do it from Virginia.”

Moose stopped walking. Turned toward her fully. “You know that would make me so happy. That’s what I want.”

“I know, and I also know I keep giving you mixed signals, especially since the kidnapping,” she said. “But if you’re still okay with me coming to live with you, chickens and all, then I’m in.”

A slow smile broke across his face. “You had me at Cluck Norris.”

Shay laughed. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, the late afternoon sun warm on their skin.

“Whatever comes next,” she whispered, “I want to do it with you.”

“You will,” he said softly. “You already are.”

Hand in hand, they walked the rest of the way to the cabin, the sky behind them blazing with the colors of possibility.