Page 25 of Finding Peace
Abigail barely seems to notice it.
The walk across the driveway is quiet. Snow crunches beneath our boots, the barn looming ahead like a familiar promise. Light spills from the cracks beneath the doors and through the windows, warm and golden against the dark.
The moment we step inside, something shifts.
The barn smells like hay and leather, like animals and home. It always has. I’ve walked into this space a thousand times over the years, half asleep, half distracted, thinking about which animal needs to be tended to on which day or fence lines or feed schedules.
Hell, one time I even stumbled in here after one too many beers at The Busted Barrel and passed out in an empty stall.
This place has always been my anchor. My constant.
But tonight—
Tonight, it all looks different.
Because she’s here with me.
Abigail moves throughthe barn like she belongs to it now, like it recognizes her. She murmurs to the horses as she passes, fingers trailing along stall doors, her voice low and gentle. Griffin lifts his head the moment she approaches, his dark eyes softening as he nudges into the touch of his favorite person.
She laughs quietly, the sound light and surprised, and something inside me gives way as I lean against a post and just watch.
I’ve stood in this exact spot more times than I can recount. Same boards. Same lantern light. Same quiet creaks and shifting hooves.
And yet—
With her here, the barn feels fuller. Warmer. Like the walls themselves knew she was the missing piece.
She turns, catching me staring at her, and her brows lift. “What?”
“You’ve been quiet,” I say.
She looks down, suddenly shy, and that alone tells me everything I need to know.
Leaning the rifle against one of the stall doors, I close the distance between us before pulling her into my arms. She immediately sinks into my touch. Her forehead presses against my chest, and her breath hitches like she’s been holding it in for far too long.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
The silence stretches.
“I—I don’t want to be a burden,” she finally says.
The words land like a punch to the ribs, and my jaw tightens. But I let her finish.
“I know it’s irrational,” she continues, voice thin. “I know none of you see me that way, or you’d never have even let me stay here. But… I don’t want to be the reason anyone gets hurt. And I don’t want you tohave to do terrible things because of me. I don’t want to be the reason—”
I tilt her face up gently. “I need you to hear me when I say what I’m about to tell you.”
She nods.
“When I was a kid,” I begin, “I thought I was poison. That the reason everything around me was shit because of me. I was told time and time again by someone who was supposed to love me that everything bad that happened in her life was my fault. It happened over and over again, until… until she died. And somehow, even though I knew drugs were the real reason I lost my mother, I believed that was my fault too.”
Tears shine in her eyes, but I don’t stop.
“After my mom died when I was in high school, I was left with her boyfriend at the time. Nobody thought to look out for me. Nobody thought to put me in a better home. Nobody thought of meat all.I was in trouble…hewas trouble. Despite my being seventeen, Ray—that was his name—beat the shit out of me whenever he had the chance. Spent all his money on booze and drugs, never botherin’ to get me food or pay bills. I was broken, beaten, hungry, and dirty. Everyone could see it, but nobody cared. Nobody except…”
“Them,” she says softly.
“Lincoln was in the same class as me. He knew I needed help and told Lawson all about me. Hell, even Jasper, who was nothing more than a scrawny fourteen-year-old, tagged along to help me.” My lips pull up at the corners, despite the traumatic memory. “Anyway… Lincoln, Lawson, and Jasper followed me home one day from school. All it took was one look at the place I was living in, and Lawson knew I needed out. He didn’t give it a second thought. He just knocked on the front door and demanded I come with him.”
