no turning back

• thirty one •

elijah

A sigh filtered passed my lips as I pushed the gear shift into park. My gaze swept the yard and animal pens, a routine glance I did every time I came home. Naturally, I narrowed in on the first sign of movement from the horse pasture. The stark black color of a baggy t-shirt made my heart jump.

Cutting the engine, I slid out of the cab. I wanted to investigate immediately, but something kept me from moving toward Gladys. The thought of her outside, visible and exposed to the world, unsettled me still. Even in the middle of rural Arkansas, I felt defensive.

Fucking Ammu and his threats. I'd let him right into my head, right where he nor any of my family belonged. I couldn't afford to ignore him either, though. If something happened to Angel . . .

Nausea rolled up my throat. She had to be safe.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before reaching across the cab. Closing the door, I calmly approached the soft chatter of voices. My steps slowed as two figures came into view.

The horse was tied to a fence post, standing cogently while Gladys and the little shit stood at its side, stroking brushes along its golden coat. A stab of envy knifed through my chest. My brows knitted together as Brant noticed me first, glancing up warily and then in surprise.

He murmured something to Glady and stood straighter with a nod at me. She whipped around instantly. Her eyes fell to the object in my hand, a bouquet of white lilies I'd forgotten about. The smile she flashed me was stunning.

She ducked between the fence panels and jogged over, her grin growing. "Hi," she greeted, cheeks glowing with heat.

My shirt hung loosely around her, covering the shorts I assumed she wore underneath them. The shorts she better have been wearing unless she wanted my handprints on her ass. Her hair was tied sloppily into a bun on top of her head, rogue flyaways enshrouding her flushed face.

I cleared my throat and glanced back at Brant. He'd removed the horse's halter and was carrying the box of grooming tools to the barn.

"Are those for me?" asked a soft, sweet voice.

My gaze followed her line of sight to the flowers, which I'd forgotten about again. Wetting my lips, I nodded and held them out to her. Delight shined brightly in her tender hazel eyes as she accepted the bouquet, raising the delicate white petals to her nose. Her lashes fluttered while she took a big sniff.

"Oh, these are nice," she groaned.

I found myself staring at her smile, wondering why I didn't work harder to see it more often. How could I let my worries distract me from admiring my sweet wife?

My entire body tingled under her attention. I was instantly addicted to this feeling between us, a feeling I had feared we might never recover.

"Did you have a good day?" I asked. "What have you been up to?"

She reached forward to grab my hand and started for the house, tugging me along after. "These need to be put in water," she explained. "But yeah, it was alright. Brant's been showing me how to take care of Lucky."

"The horse," I assumed, at which she nodded. My brow arched. "You're not mad at him anymore, I take it?"

My stomach clenched at that. I wasn't sure how close I wanted them to get, seeing that he would be home with her alone more than me most days. She might not ever dream of kissing him again, but I hadn't forgotten about that incident. Pencil Dick would not live another day if he pulled that shit again.

"Eh." Gladys shrugged. "I guess, somewhat. I understand him better now . . . and I decided to forgive him."

"That's . . . good," I grumbled reluctantly.