Page 5

Fuck. He’d fought the order to leave the team.

He raised hell, banged on his commanding officer’s door, but some of the guys told him straight.

There wasn’t a damn thing he could do. The series of head injuries had become an issue.

Regulations were regulations. No amount of stubbornness would change the fact that he couldn’t run missions anymore.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to.

The cursor blinked back at him, taunting. He could search again. Just one more sweep of the records. But he knew where that led—another dead end.

He batted the lid of the laptop closed with a snap and pushed back from the desk, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor.

Rhae wasn’t the only thing bothering him. He felt lost as hell these days.

Charlie team had promised to keep in touch.

Even though he knew they couldn’t—national security and all that—damn if it didn’t leave a hole in him wider than the Wyoming sky.

He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on as he strode out of the house. The ranch stretched out before him, endless fields and towering pines, the smell of earth and leather thick in the air. He needed to move, to do something. Anything to drown out the silence.

His feet carried him toward the therapy office before his brain had caught up.

He just had to see. But if it was really Rhae— his Rhae—what would he do?

He stopped just outside the door, heart hammering in his chest. What the hell was he doing here?

If it wasn’t her, all the better. He could use someone to talk to. Hell, he hadn’t talked to anyone about anything real since his discharge.

Still, his hand rested on the doorknob, and before he could think better of it, he twisted and pushed inside.

The room was empty. He blinked at the neat sofa and chairs, the stacks of magazines, the smell of wildflowers hanging faintly in the air. He was about to back out when he turned and nearly ran straight into Willow.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, one brow arching.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was gonna introduce myself to the therapist. Guess she stepped out.”

Willow’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Rhae? She’s with Oaks over at the barn. I can take you if you want.”

Rhae. His chest tightened.

“Rhae?” he echoed as if he hadn’t heard the name already.

Rhae, here on the Black Heart…and in his damn dreams.

“Yeah,” Willow said, already turning toward the exit. “Come on.”

He followed, legs moving on autopilot. The name rang in his ears, louder than the constant hum left by several concussions, rattling around with the memories he’d buried. It couldn’t be her. Rhae was…well, Rhae was gone. But hope was a wicked thing, and it clawed its way up his throat regardless.

They reached the barn, sunlight streaking across the fields, dappling the dirt in patches of gold. Willow pushed open the heavy wooden door, and he followed her inside.

He saw Oaks first, his broad-shouldered brother brushing down one of the horses, laughing at something just out of sight.

Then she stepped into view. Her back was to him, light brown hair spilling down her shoulders as she reached up to stroke the horse’s mane. She was laughing, the sound light and musical, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He would know that laugh anywhere. Christ, he’d dreamed about it.

“Rhae!” Willow called out cheerfully.

Rhae turned, her smile still plastered on her face—until she saw him.

Denver couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. It was her.

She looked the same, yet somehow different. Her eyes were sharper, her frame leaner, but it was her. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue.

That was when he saw her. The baby. She was perched on Rhae’s hip, eyes wide and curious, tiny fingers wrapped around Rhae’s necklace.

Denver’s heart dropped into his boots.

Willow glanced between them. So did Oaks, oblivious to the train wreck barreling through his chest.

“Denver…” Willow’s voice sounded far off. This time, it wasn’t the ringing in his ears making her words quieter. His mind was reeling from the shock of seeing her. Of seeing her with a baby.

“This is Rhae,” Willow went on in a tight voice. “And her daughter.”

Her daughter. His throat closed up. His vision tunneled until all he saw was Rhae holding someone else’s baby. She had moved on. Had a life. A family.

He didn’t hear Willow’s attempts at polite conversation. Everything was muffled, like he was underwater, drowning in the realization that Rhae had found happiness without him. She’d moved on. She’d had a baby with someone else. He barely managed a nod, his jaw locked tight.

Willow’s voice faded into the background. Oaks watched him carefully, concern etching lines across his brow, but Denver couldn’t take it. Couldn’t stand there another second.

“I…I gotta go,” he mumbled, barely aware of the words spilling from his lips. He turned on his heel and strode out of the barn, ignoring the weight of their stares.

His boots kicked up dirt as he marched back toward the ranch house, every step hammering the truth deeper into his chest.

The only thing worse than not knowing where she was…was knowing she’d had a baby with someone else.

And it was killing him.