HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

"I Am My Beloved's and My Beloved's is Mine."

**Eight Months Ago**

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Jack had told Tris to meet him in the old hay barn.

Fraught with nerves at being alone with Jack after dark she paced the kitchen, biting down the nails on each of her hands.

"Kid, would you stand still? You're making me anxious." Arthur frowns at his daughter, normally the picture of confidence, but her sudden change in mood was putting him on edge. "Everything okay?"

"Fine." her voice cracks and she clears her throat, trying not to raise suspicion as she tries to figure out why Jack had been so cryptic. "Fine. Just thinking."

"Need to talk?" he kicks out the chair across from him, his hands busy working the gun oil into his revolver. The table is littered with old rags and weapons.

"M'good." She pauses, raising her eyebrow at the dark liquid currently dripping onto the table. "Ma's gonna kill you."

Her father smirks, "Nah she won't she–" he follows her gaze and spots the growing stain.

"Shit'!"

Rushing to the sink he dampens the cloth and busies himself with the cleanup, leaving Tris in peace with her musing.

Waltzing into the room John pauses, taking in the scene and shaking his head. Leaning back against the door frame he folds his arms looking smug.

"Tris, would you believe your Pa was once one of the top bounties across five states? Now, look at him. Domesticated husband, afraid his wife will yell at him because he made a mess on the kitchen table."

"Shut it." Arthur scowls while scrubbing desperately at the dark stain. "You're just jealous your bounty was half of mine ."

" Don't give me that. Tris, you're good with the numbers tell me, if you count the trai–."

"-Train you robbed in Annesburg and the horse you stole in Strawberry you'd be ahead by $50. Yea got it." Tris recites, having heard the argument from her Uncle over and over. "Have you seen Jack?"

"He headed out to the barn. Said he was meeting you," He picks up one of Arthur's guns and inspects the inlay. Her father did have a beautiful collection of weapons. "I'm pretty sure it was more than $50 because of the--."

"He told you?" she cuts him off, her mind racing.

"Sure" John shrugs, "Said he had a birthday gift to give you."

Arthur pauses his head lifting from the stain to smile, "You didn't think he would forget your birthday, would you? You're family."

Scrunching her nose she makes her way outside, "We're not related Pa." she throws over her shoulder, slamming the door behind her.

Disappointment runs through her as she makes her way toward the old hay barn. She had been foolish to think Jack wanted to seek out her company privately. He would never see her as anything but his family friend and that stung more than any physical pain. Her heart aching she shoulders open the barn door, stopping dead at what lies before her.

Hung around the barn were rows and rows of string lights. Their bulbs cast a warm glow over the hay making the space feel cozy and warm. In the corner, a thick fur lays sprawled across the floor, styled into a nook with piles of books surrounding the edge.

Moving from behind the post, a single candle flickers above a small chocolate cake. "Happy early birthday." Jack grins.

"Jack." she gasps, unable to find the words.