Page 58 of Finding Peace
Chris followed a second later, and I swear I understood immediately why these boys are the way they are.
He’s handsome in a quiet, unassuming way. The kind that probably turned heads without him even trying when he was younger—still probably does now. His eyes are dark like Lawson’s, intense and deep. There’s that same protective instinct in them. That same readiness to shoulder whatever needs carrying.
But when he smiles—
God.
It’s Lincoln’s smile. Wide and warm and just slightly crooked at the corner, like his face almost isn’t used to the gesture. It softens everything about him. Laugh lines carve deep around his eyes, and his hands are large and rough when he shakes mine—working hands. Ranch hands.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” he said, voice low and sincere. “We’ve heard nothing but good things.”
And just like that… I realized I’d been worried for nothing.
Now, hours later, I’m sitting in the living room, staring down at a photo of sixteen-year-old Lawson scowling at the camera, hair too long, jaw a bit sharper, one arm slung protectively around a much smaller Lincoln.
“Oh my god,” I whisper before trying and failing to cover up a laugh.
Jasper walks in a second later with a tray of coffee mugs. “Remember when—” he says, handing Beau a cup. “You tried to ride that bull bareback and Chris made you muck stalls for a month?”
Chris huffs. “That was generous.”
“I was a teenage boy trying to work out some angst, okay?” Beau defends.
“You were dumb,” Lincoln says, leaning forward to grab his mug.
Jas continues to hand them out one by one. Lincoln gets a splash of Baileys. Lawson gets whiskey. Chris too. Billie waves hers off.
“Black is fine. Thank you, sweetie,” she says, smiling up at Jasper.
When he gets to me, his expression shifts just slightly. Softer.Happier.“Cream and sugar,” he says, pressing the mug into my hands.
It’s a small thing, them always remembering my coffee just how I like it. And yet… it isn’t.
I watch the way Lincoln shifts on the couch to make room for Billie beside him when she gets tired of sitting on the floor, his arm draped across the back behind her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Or the way Law leans forward when Chris talks, really listening to his father, even when he pretends to be annoyed at hisparents’ antics.
I see the way Jasper rests his hand on Chris’s shoulder as he passes behind him, squeezing once. Chris reaches up automatically, patting his hand in return.
Meanwhile, Beau leans into Billie’s other side when she teases him about a disastrous high school haircut, and she nudges him with her elbow like he’s been hers since the day he was born.
They may not share blood, but you would never know it. There’s no divide. No invisible line.
Just history. And choice. Andlove.
This is why the four of them are the way that they are.
This is why Lincoln double-checks the locks at night. Why Lawson carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why Jasper pretends he doesn’t need anyone but always shows up anyway. And why Beau loves so openly it almost hurts.
They learned it here.
From them.
Lincoln’s fingers find my shoulder from where I’m still sitting on the floor. Reaching up, I lace them together without even looking, and his thumb brushes small circles over my knuckles absentmindedly.
Lawson stands to grab another album at his mom’s request—regardless of all his groaning—and presses a kiss to the top of my head as he passes.
And when Jasper comes back into the living room, he drops onto the arm of the couch and hooks a finger into the collar of my sweater, tugging me back just enough to steal a quick kiss.
Noticing my ridiculously wide smile, Jasper rises from his spot just to crouch down next to me and whisper in my ear, “I love seeing you smile like this.” Before kissing my cheek and returning to the end of the couch.
