Raven’s POV
Guitar lessons become my anchor.
Every evening on the porch with Weston, his calloused fingers guiding mine, his low voice patient as I fumble through chord progressions. G to C to D and back again. My fingertips are building calluses now—proof I'm becoming someone new. Someone real.
Theron watches from a distance. Not jealous, exactly. Just aware. He still makes me laugh at breakfast, still finds excuses to brush against me in the kitchen, still looks at me with that devastating combination of hope and acceptance.
I love him for it. Love them both in ways that tear me apart.
But something is shifting.
When Weston shows up instead of running, when he initiates conversations instead of avoiding them, when he shares Elena's guitar like he's handing me a piece of his soul—I feel myself tilting toward him. Slowly. Inevitably. Like gravity I can't fight.
Jonathan hasn't left. His presence in town is a constant pressure—gifts arriving at the ranch that are clearly the try to buy my hapiness, messages passed through locals, reminders that he's waiting. Patient. Predatory.
I've managed to avoid him since the collapse. But I know it can't last.
He corners me at the general store.
I'm in the vitamin aisle, trying to be discreet about the prenatal supplements, when his voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.
"Sweetheart. We need to talk."
My stomach drops. I turn to find him blocking the exit, immaculate as always, smile sharp as a blade. He looks absurd and terrifying.
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Then listen." He steps closer, lowering his voice to something intimate. Conspiratorial. "Richard is still willing to proceed with the engagement. Even with the... situation. We can spin it—previous relationship, tragic loss, very sympathetic for the press." His eyes gleam. "The public loves a redemption story."
I stare at him. "You want me to lie about my children?"
"I want you to secure your future." His tone hardens. "These ranchers can't give you what I can. What happens when the money runs out? When the romance fades and you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with two babies and no career?"
"I'd rather be stuck here than trapped with you."
"You're being naive."
"I'm being free." I push past him toward the door. "For the first time in my life."
He catches my arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm. Controlling. The grip I grew up with. The grip that says you're not going anywhere until I say so.
"I didn't want to do this, but you've left me no choice."
Something in his voice makes me freeze.
"I know exactly what happened that night, Raven. Two brothers. One drunken evening. Don't know which one got you pregnant." His smile turns cruel, satisfied. "Quite the predicament."
Ice floods my veins. "How—"
"I have resources. Did you really think the local doctor was discreet? Everyone has a price, sweetheart. I thought I taught you that."
My throat closes. He knows. He actually knows.
"Imagine what the press would do with that story." He's enjoying this now, savoring my horror like wine. "Jonathan Lockwood's daughter, the wholesome actress, getting drunk and sleeping with two men at once. Brothers, no less. Your career would be finished. No studio would touch you."
"I don't care about my career—"
"But you care about them, don't you?" His grip tightens. "Those cowboys. Their precious reputation in this little town. How do you think the neighbors would react? The Callahan brothers who took advantage of a vulnerable runaway girl. Plied her with alcohol. Used her." He leans closer, breath hot against my ear. "Is that the legacy you want for your children? To grow up knowing how they were conceived? Knowing their mother was the town scandal?"
I can't breathe. Can't think. He has me. He finally, truly has me.
"That was my fault."
Theron's voice cuts through the tension like a blade through silk. Apparently he followed me to make sure I was safe. Classic Theron
He's standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, expression hard as stone. Gone is the golden boy, the easy smile, the deflecting charm. This Theron is someone I've never seen—cold, controlled, dangerous.
Jonathan's eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"
"That night. It was my doing." Theron moves closer, positioning himself between me and my father. A shield. A sacrifice. "I got her drunk. I pushed the situation. She was vulnerable and lonely and I took advantage of that. Convinced my brother to go along with it."
My heart stops.
He's lying. Making himself look like a predator. A monster. Destroying his own reputation to save mine.
"Theron, don't—"
"Quiet." He doesn't look at me. Keeps his eyes locked on Jonathan. "She didn't want it. Not really. But I didn't give her much choice."
The words land like stones. False. Horrible. And exactly what my father wants to hear.
"So if you're going to destroy anyone's reputation," Theron continues, voice steady, "destroy mine. Tell the press the younger Callahan brother is a manipulative piece of shit who pressured his brother and a scared girl into something they'll regret forever." His smile is cold, nothing like his usual warmth. "I'll even give you quotes."
Jonathan studies him, calculating. Weighing the offer like a business proposal.
"You expect me to believe she was innocent in all this?"
"I expect you to believe whatever gets you what you want." Theron's jaw tightens. "You want a villain? I'll be your villain. But Raven walks away clean. That's the deal."
Silence stretches between them. Two predators circling, sizing each other up.
"Interesting," Jonathan finally says. "You'd sacrifice yourself for her."
"Without hesitation."
"How noble." My father's grip on my arm loosens. He steps back, adjusting his cuffs, reassembling his civilized mask. "I'll consider your offer. But this isn't over, Raven. One way or another, you're coming home."
He walks past us toward the exit. The bell above the door chimes cheerfully as he leaves, obscenely normal for what just happened.
The moment he's gone, my legs give out.
Theron catches me before I hit the floor. Guides me to sit on an overturned crate between shelves of canned goods. His hands cup my face, forcing me to look at him.
"Breathe. Just breathe."
"What did you do?" The words come out ragged. "Theron, why would you—"
"Because you matter." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Those babies matter. Everything else is noise."
"But your reputation. If he tells people—"
"Then people think I'm an asshole. Wouldn't be the first time." He tries for a smile. It doesn't quite land. "I've been the charming one my whole life. Maybe it's time to be the villain."
I grab his shirt, pull him closer. "You're not a villain. You're the best person I know."
"Tell that to the tabloids."
"I'm serious." Tears spill down my cheeks. "You just threw yourself under the bus for me. Made yourself look like a monster. Why?"
He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is rough.
"Because I love you. And love means protecting the people you care about, even when it costs you everything." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Now let's get you home before your cowboy notices you're gone and comes looking with a shotgun."
Home. The ranch. Weston.
Theron just sacrificed his reputation to protect me. And I'm still thinking about his brother.
What kind of person does that make me?
I don't know. But as Theron helps me to my feet and guides me out of the store, I realize something with devastating clarity:
He'll always put me first. Even when it costs him everything.
And I don't know if I can ever deserve that kind of love.