But instead, there’s snow piled along the fence posts, the porch light glowing in the distance, and the dark silhouette of the barn against the winter sky.
Dallas opens his door and steps out into the cold. The night air rushes in as he offers his hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
I take it.
The second my boots hit the ground, I’m surrounded by the McCoy brothers. We move toward the porch when Maggie McCoy steps out like an avenging angel in a cardigan.
Her eyes land on me, and her expression softens. She walks down the steps, straight to me, and before I can panic about boundaries or etiquette or whether I’ve earned this, she pulls me into her arms.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, and her voice is rough like she’s been holding herself together with grit. “You’re home.”
My throat closes. I can’t talk. I just cling to her like I’m five again.
Dallas’s hand stays on my back, steadying me without stealing the moment.
Maggie pulls back and cups my face in her hands like she’s checking if I’m real. “You okay?”
I nod, but it’s a bad lie. My chin trembles.
Maggie’s eyes sharpen. “We’ll handle the rest tomorrow. Tonight you eat something, and you sleep.”
My lips wobble. “Yes, ma’am.”
Maggie sets a bowl of stew in front of me at the kitchen table like it’s a ritual. Steam rises. The smell hits my stomach, and for the first time in days, my body remembers hunger.
“Eat,” she says.
I take a bite.
Warmth spreads through me in slow waves. It tastes like potatoes and beef and onions and something herbal I can’t name.
Dallas sits across from me with his own bowl, but he barely eats. His eyes keep flicking to my face, like he’s checking whether I’m fading.
Maggie watches us both, then says briskly, “I’m going to bed. Boone’s back with Rose and the kids. Nash and Clay are doing their little cowboy patrol. If anyone comes near this house, they’ll regret being born.”
I blink at her.
She pats my shoulder. “Sleep.”
Then she leaves, and the kitchen quiets until it’s just me and Dallas and the hum of the refrigerator.
I eat a few more bites, then my hands start shaking again, delayed reaction catching up.
Dallas stands and comes around the table. He crouches beside my chair.
“Faith,” he says softly. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do.
His eyes are calm, but there’s a rawness underneath. He looks like he’s been holding back a storm for days.
“You’re safe,” he says. “You’re here. Nobody’s taking you.”
Tears spill. I press my fists to my eyes like I can stop them.
Dallas rises and pulls me up gently, careful of my trembling legs, and wraps his arms around me.
I melt into him like my body has been trying to get back to this for weeks.
