Eight

How was it possible for a heart to feel like it was filling up and breaking at the same time?

Seeing Warren with Stella was something Honey had never expected to experience. And now that she had, she feared what it could mean.

To Stella.

And to herself.

Her world had twisted itself inside out. She was desperate to do the right thing by her daughter, but she wasn’t sure what that was. Not when her own heart’s desires were too powerful and confusing to ignore.

With the truth about the past known and the anger that had sustained her obliterated—or at least shifted to the correct target—Honey was forced to acknowledge that she had never really stopped loving Warren. She had hated him, but only because of how badly she had been hurt by his abandonment.

Now all that was changed.

She did her best to stay occupied with preparations for the holiday dinner. But it was a challenge. Especially once Warren began to interact with the rest of the boys. It was unnerving to see him, so sophisticated and refined, in the midst of a gang of former cowboys, soldiers, and wanderers who had come together to form a sort of family. There was even a point when Warren approached Luke, and the two of them had what appeared to be a frank discussion that perhaps started out with an inquiry into her brother’s condition and ended with a handshake.

It was all so strange.

Just before dinner was to be served, Honey claimed a moment to step outside and grab a few deep breaths of the crisp night air.

The sky was still clear and the moon was nearly full, casting a bright silver glow through the night as it reflected off the snow. Her breath puffed in the frigid atmosphere, but she welcomed the icy nip on her skin. Drawing her woolen shawl around her shoulders, she wandered down the length of the porch to the corner where she could peer up through the trees in the direction of her little cabin. Just knowing the home she’d created for Stella was there, comfy and secure, filled her with a sense of rightness.

Stella’s happiness and safety were what mattered most. Honey’s personal longing would never take precedence over her daughter’s well-being.

Acknowledging that to herself cleared some of the anxiety she had been fighting since seeing Warren riding into the valley with Eli. She didn’t know why he’d returned and she couldn’t deny the combination of thrill and fear it ignited, but she wouldn’t lose sight of what was most important.

Just as she turned to go back inside, the door opened and a large figure stepped out. The shadows of the covered porch concealed his face, but Honey knew it was Warren. She knew it by the fiery rush through her blood and the way her breath froze midexhale.

The door closed behind him, blocking out the light and noise from within as he approached her. Stopping only when they were nearly toe to toe, he looked at her with an expression she could not read.

And she looked back. Unable to turn away. Unwilling to break eye contact even though her heart pounded so hard, her ribs ached.

Then, still without a word, he lifted his hand to the side of her face. The warmth of his bare palm contrasted against her cold skin. When his thumb brushed across the crest of her cheek, she knew he was going to kiss her.

Considering what they had done the last time he had been there, a kiss shouldn’t have terrified her. But it did. This was different.

Because he had come back. Because they both knew the truth now. Because it felt the way it had that summer when she was seventeen.

Breathless, hopeful, new.

He leaned in slowly, his gaze holding hers. The touch of his mouth was warm and soft. Her eyes fell closed and her body swayed toward him. Though she still clutched her shawl with her arms folded tight across her chest, he wrapped his arms around her anyway, drawing her into the heat of his body.

He wore his heavy coat, but he hadn’t buttoned the front. She pressed in against his chest and the edges of his coat came around her, enclosing them both. It felt safe and warm.

And then it felt hot as his kiss changed from soft to passionate with a tilt of his head and sweep of his tongue. She opened to him and returned the stroke of his tongue with more of her own. Relaxing her arms, she slid them around his waist and rose up on her toes, wanting nothing more than to get closer to him. To feel the way she remembered in her dreams.

He tightened his hold around her, and the hard evidence of his desire brought her back to reality. They couldn’t exactly slip away to find a quiet corner somewhere, no matter how badly she wanted to.

She broke from the kiss, her breath puffing harshly as she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. He tightened his embrace even more.

“I have to go back in,” she whispered.

“Not yet.” His voice was raw and deep. The thick emotion revealed in his words matched the weight of her own. “I’m not going to let you go this time.”

A lump rose in her throat at his declaration. Heartache returned with the force of a winter storm.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“There is more than just my heart at stake.”

“I would never hurt her.”

Honey tipped back her head to see his determined expression. “Not intentionally, I know. But we have security here. A home and family—”

“With a bunch of renegades and outlaws,” he interrupted, frustration coloring his tone.

Honey stiffened and drew back. He let her, his hands dropping to his sides as she grasped the edges of her shawl to fold it tight across her chest again. “Yes,” she replied, pride in her tone. “I built a home here. It is a place where Stella and I are loved and happy. Why should I risk that?”

Warren frowned. “You don’t trust me.”

She didn’t deny it. He may not have left her in the way she had believed, but he had left her. She had been on her own, forced to take responsibility for her life and her daughter’s and make the most of what they had available.

Luke had done what he could to help, but his life was about taking risks. Honey’s had been about the opposite.

And loving Warren again felt like the biggest risk she had ever faced.

“It’s time for dinner,” she said as she stepped around him and strode across the porch to reenter the house.

He did not immediately follow, only coming back in just as everyone was taking their seats around the long table for the Christmas Eve feast. The table was loaded with the results of her loving labor: a large ham glazed with a brown sugar syrup, a haunch of venison that had been basted with butter over several hours, thick gravy, mashed turnips, roasted sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, mince pie, pickled beets, sugared nuts, and more.

Stella had helped in the preparations of nearly everything that was being served, and her little face glowed with pride as the men expressed their praise and gratitude for the delicious food.

It was hard to ignore Warren’s presence throughout the meal, but Honey focused her attention on Stella and purposefully engaged in the raucous conversation flowing around the table.

Still, she felt his regard and knew their conversation was not finished.