Jamie.
Across from her now, his body tense, his hair a mess, but that warm, unwavering smile on his lips.
“Hey, love,” he said, the simple word a lifeline.
Her heart shattered again, the reality of Harry’s death crashing back. Her chest heaved, and the sobs tore through her.
Jamie surged forward, his large hands wrapping around her, pulling her into his arms, her sobs muffled by the heat of his body.
He didn’t speak at first—just held her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice thick. “No matter what.”
His lips brushed against her temple, offering more comfort than words ever could.
“C’mon, love,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above her ear. “The chopper’s waiting outside. We’re going home.”
“No,” she murmured, her voice small but resolute. “This is my home… I have to sort everything. Trixie, the business...it’s all on me now.”
Her eyes flickered, torn between the comforting safety of his arms and her responsibilities. She couldn’t just walk away from everything she had built.
Jamie cupped her face, lifting her watery gaze to meet his. “I’ll help you—whatever you need.”
She pulled away just enough to shake her head again.
“I appreciate it, Jamie... But I need to handle this myself. I need to prove I can.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on, stubbornness edging her words. “I can’t just walk away from everything. I owe it to myself… and to Harry.”
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the tension between her independence and his desire to take care of her.
“I’ll let you handle things here, no problem,” he said, his voice dropping to a firm, possessive murmur. “But when I said you belonged to me, I meant every part of you. Even your grief. I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to see you smile again, and you won’t fight me on it.”
“I’m not pushing you away.”
“And I’m not leaving you here, not when that fuckers gonna show his face any day. Not happening.”
44
Shannon
After Harry’s funeral, Bucky, and Shannon ran the yard together, since the will hadn’t been read.
One thing they were certain of was that Harry wanted his ashes scattered in the fields near the house. But the ceremony remained on hold until Niall returned from rehab.
“You don’t need to muck out, Jamie,” Shannon said, leaning her hip against the wooden frame. His hoody hung over the stable door, leaving him in nothing but a black t-shirt and muddy sweatpants. “Manual labour looks good on you.”
“You checking me out, love? Thought you were here to supervise, not undress me with your eyes.”
His gaze, almost black in the dim light, drifted from her dusty boots to the messy hair framing her face.
“I’m doing this for you, you know,” he said, driving the prongs into the shavings. “I like seeing you breathe easier. Makes me feel like I’m doing my job right.”
Dark scruff covered his jaw, giving him a rough edge that only made him more irresistible.
“I can handle horse shit.” He shrugged. “It’s been a rough few weeks, and I want you to know I’m here.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, clearing sweat from his brow.
“It’s dirty work,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I didn’t think a pretty boy like you would enjoy getting covered in shit.”
