Page 5 of Tethered

She nudges my head with hers, which I take as a yes. I kiss her nose before tossing my things in the saddlebags and mounting her.

“Let’s go find Riggs, shall we?”

She takes off on a trot, in no rush herself. After a few days of nothing but rain, it was nice to get out and enjoy the sunshine. It seems Willow agrees with me.

I take in the land as we move over it—the crops that had been planted were almost ready to be harvested, and I had fresh fields that needed to be sown. I fell into bed each night exhausted from the back-breaking work, but I loved every minute of it. I felt fitter and stronger than I ever had, physically, at least. The rest would come. I ride Willow back, passing the newly refurbished farm store where we produce wagyu burgers and steaks that I sell directly to customers. Every other day, food is collected and delivered, becoming incredibly lucrative, even though the actual process turns my stomach. I sure as heck wouldn’t give up being a vegetarian anytime soon.

Willow comes to a stop, pulling me from my thoughts of bloody meat. I lead her inside and give her a brush-down andsome food before heading into the house, where the smell of lasagna has my stomach rumbling.

I walk up behind Riggs and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing the side of my face against his back.

He places his hands over mine for a minute before spinning. “You were gone too long.”

I laugh. “You knew where to find me.”

“I know, but I also know you like to work alone.”

“I don’t mind when it’s you.”

“Good to know.” He reaches down and sweeps me up before carrying me to the counter. We’ve been more tactile with each other since the hospital, but the night always ends with him locking himself in his ranch house and me sleeping alone. He felt me retreat. My heart got bruised by Shepard’s actions, though I try to pretend it didn’t. It made me question my ability to read people. I’d failed at it time and time again. I didn’t think I could handle being wrong about Riggs, too. Instead of being pissed, he stood firm, giving me all the space I needed, never once making me feel like an inconvenience.

I wrap my legs around his hips as he cups my face and kisses me. He starts gently, but it’s not enough. Something shifted in me today. I’m not entirely sure what, but I’m done holding back. I slide my hands underneath the hem of his T-shirt, sliding it up his body, only for the house to pull my focus away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s here,” I grunt, straightening my hair while Riggs curses and adjusts his cock.

“I’ll get rid of them,” he offers, but I shake my head.

“It’s fine. Might as well see what they want.”

He lifts me down off the counter and walks with me to the door. I open it as a familiar red Toyota pulls up in front of the house.

I stay where I am, not sure what Dawn is doing here, unless she needs more cream. She climbs out with her head down, then moves to the rear passenger door and opens it. She reaches inside and pulls Hannah into her arms before heading my way. I feel a tingle in my bones, and I don’t know if it’s coming from the house or if it’s female instinct. But when she gets to the steps, she looks up, and I already know what I’m going to see.

“Fuck!” Riggs snarls as he takes in her split lip and bruised eye. Her eyebrow is bleeding along with her nose, and one of her eyes is almost entirely swollen shut.

It isn’t until I notice the red handprint on the side of Hannah’s face that I feel my power spark and coil inside me. It takes me a while to calm it down enough to be able to speak. “What happened?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. The answer is all over her face. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

I walk toward her slowly, not wanting to spook her any more than she already is.

“Let me take Hannah for you. I can see that it hurts to carry her. I swear she’s safe with me.”

Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“You’ve done the hard part, Dawn. Let me help you with the rest.”

“Okay.”

I look at Hannah. Her eyes tell me she’s seen far too much for someone her age.

“Your mom’s hurting, little one. Will you let me carry you for a minute so we can get her patched up?”

Hannah studies me, her eyes flashing with understanding before she reaches out her arms. She’s not a toddler. Most kids her age are beyond being carried, and I’m guessing it’s the same for Hannah. But as she clings to me, I know I’d carry her until my legs gave out if she needed me to.