Page 31 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

Even Maverick lost sight of it as he got older.

He stopped protecting me the way an older brother should, his selfish choices eclipsing what little bond we had left.

His calls and texts became less frequent after I left for Louisiana and married Jordan.

Our relationship became one-sided with him rarely answering and only when I initiated the communication.

But Mr. Marshall has never been like that. He’s the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without hesitation and no matter the length of time between seeing him, he’s picked up like I’m still sixteen years old, dirty, hungry and looking for a safe place to rest.

“Colt’s room is free if you want to crash there,” he offers.

“That’s what Regan said. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Not at all. He never sleeps here anymore. These days, he’s mostly out at the farmstead with Cash or working at the distillery.

Ever since he got that RV, he’s been staying out there—working the land, keeping to himself.

I think he likes the solitude. After everything, I suppose peace and quiet mean more to him than it does to us. ”

I nod. “How’s he doing?” I ask, hesitantly because since he brought me to orgasm, I’ve been avoiding him and have no idea how to navigate our relationship going forward. One that has become more complicated than I hoped as his parole officer and friend.

“He seems to be doing well. Back in the swing of things at the distillery. I’ve gone down to help him with his home.

Finally finished the frame though I hope this storm doesn’t set him back.

When he gets his mind stuck on something, he’s all in.

I think it’s been a good release for him to work through some of the tough emotions he’s brought home with him. ”

I nod because he’s said as much in fewer words during our chats together. “Okay, well I’m going to head up and take a shower now.”

He waves his hand easily, his attention turning back to his phone. “You need anything, just holler. Stay as long as you’d like. Hell, move in if you’d like. Colt’s room isn’t being used anyways and I could use the company.”

I laugh softly and shake my head as I head upstairs, my steps light on the worn floorboards, the hallway so familiar it’s like muscle memory guiding me.

I slip into what I remember as Colt’s room, pushing the door open and stepping into a space that feels frozen in time.

It looks almost exactly like it did the last time I was here, untouched by the years or by whatever life has tried to throw at him.

I pause, wondering if he’s even slept in this room since coming home. Maybe not. Maybe at twenty-four, when prison ripped him away from everything he knew, he decided he wouldn’t come back to this space. Maybe he went straight to the RV by the creek and never looked back.

Still, the room smells like him. And even though I tell myself not to, I find my body moving on instinct, bending toward the bed and taking a slow, deep inhale of the sheets. I exhale a quiet sigh.

Regan told me the bedding hadn’t been washed and that I should grab fresh ones from the linen closet, but I already know I won’t. I’ll sleep on these, clean or not, because they smell like Colt.

Instead of borrowing one of Regan’s oversized tees, I open his dresser and find a soft one that smells just like the sheets—like him. Comforting. Familiar. Like safety and history and everything I don’t have words for.

I move to the window, my eyes drifting out to the old oak tree, its wide limbs still stretching toward the sky like they did when we were kids.

It was a link to our sanctuary—Maverick’s and mine.

A place to hide when the house wasn’t safe.

When the kind of people our father brought around made it better to vanish into the leaves than stay in our rooms.

A smile tugs at my lips, touched with both ache and warmth. That tree. Those nights. Colt. Some bonds don’t break. Not with time. Not with silence. Not even with distance. And the one I have with Colt? It’s always been unshakable.

Have I missed it all along? Has Colt always been my protector, the one I’ve been drawn towards like a magnetic force I can’t ignore? The one guy who hasn’t let me down.

I’m not sure, but something tells me we’ll be having the conversation that I’ve been avoiding soon.

Shaking my head, I step away from the window and head down the hallway toward the upstairs bathroom. After scrubbing every inch of my body and washing my hair, I finally wrap myself in a towel and retreat to his bedroom again, slipping just the large T-shirt over my bare skin.

His scent envelopes me like a warm blanket. I know I’ll fall asleep quickly cocooned in what feels like his embrace. I wonder how it’d feel to have his arms around me, holding me tightly tonight, something we never dared to do even on those nights where Mav and I slept in his room as kids.

The storm rages on outside, louder now but it feels soothing in the comfort of the Marshall’s home. My mind stills as I slip under the covers, my heartbeat races as I take a deep breath and slowly, I drift into a deep sleep…