Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
And then there's Cade, who keeps one hand on my knee under the table like he's afraid I might bolt.
"So," Beau says, refilling my wine glass with a grin that could probably charm paint off a barn, "journalism, huh? You going to write about our boy here?"
"Maybe," I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds. "Depends on whether he gives me anything worth writing about."
Jack's wife Delaney, laughs. "Oh, I like her already."
"Don't encourage her," Cade mutters, but I can see him fighting a smile.
"What's your beat going to be?" Colt asks, cutting into his steak with surgical precision. "Politics? Crime? Human interest?"
"I'm hoping to do investigative work. Real journalism, not puff pieces." I take a sip of wine for courage. "I want to tell stories that expose uncomfortable truths."
"Like what?" Delaney leans forward, genuinely interested.
"Like..." I glance at Cade, then decide to test the waters. "Like how our traditional education models are fundamentally flawed. How sometimes the most profound learning happens outside institutional frameworks, through... unconventional teaching relationships."
"Unconventional how?" Jack's eyebrow raises.
"As an example… Authority-based learning, where one person has complete knowledge and control, and the other learns by being guided." I feel heat creeping up my neck but force myself to continue. "Trust dynamics that create deeper transformation than any classroom could achieve."
Cade's hand tightens on my knee, and I can practically feel his amusement radiating through his skin.
"Sounds like you speak from experience," Jack observes, and there's something knowing in his voice that makes me wonder exactly what Cade has told them.
"I do." I feel Cade's thumb stroke across my kneecap, offering silent support. "I was the perfect academic product. Graduated high school at sixteen, started my Master's at eighteen. But I couldn't skip a stone or start a fire or make a decision about what I wanted for lunch without calculating the optimal nutritional outcome."
"And now?" Beau asks, his charm dialed down to something more genuine.
"Now I'm learning that maybe intelligence isn't all about accumulating information, but can also be about having the courage to admit when you don't know anything at all about a subject, and trust someone else to guide you through it."
The words feel dangerous coming out of my mouth, loaded with implications. But the language is the same as I’m using in my newly written thesis, designed to obfuscate any real truths that aren’t meant for anyone but me and Cade.
The table goes quiet for a moment, and I wonder if I've revealed too much. Whether the language needs toning down before my final presentation. Then Jack raises his beer bottle.
"To unconventional education," he says.
"To unconventional education," the others echo, and I feel something warm settle in my chest that has nothing to do with the wine.
"So when's the wedding?" Beau asks, and Cade nearly chokes on his beer.
"Jesus, Beau."
"What? You brought her to Sunday dinner. That's like putting a ring on it in Boone family terms." Beau's grin is unrepentant.
"Time doesn't matter when it's right," Colt says quietly, his sheriff's eyes taking in details I probably don't want him to notice. "What matters is whether you're brave enough to trust it."
"She's brave enough," Cade says, his voice full of quiet certainty. "She just doesn't know it yet."
The conversation moves on to safer topics—Beau's latest motorcycle project, Colt's ongoing battles with drunk tourists, Jack and Delaney's crazy successful nursing rocking chair business. But I find myself watching the way these men interact with each other, the easy affection and gentle ribbing that speaks of bonds forged in childhood and strengthened by choice.
This is what family looks like when it isn't about competition or performance or maintaining appearances. When it's just about showing up for each other, no questions asked, no conditions attached.
"You're quiet," Cade murmurs in my ear as Delaney and Beau argue about the best fishing spots in the county.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About how different this is from my family dinners." I lean into his warmth, breathing in his familiar scent of pine and something indefinably male. "My parents would spend the whole meal quizzing me about my studies, making me recite quotes from classic literature or discussing my 'trajectory' like I wasn't even there."
"Well, you're here now." He presses a kiss to my temple that feels like a hug. How quickly I’ve come to rely on his touch for comfort. How I seek it out for pleasure, and purpose and safety. "And we're not going anywhere."
It's such a simple statement, but it hits me harder than any declaration of love. We're not going anywhere. Like permanence is just a given, not something that has to be earned or maintained through perfect behavior.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I ignore it. Then it buzzes again. And again.
"You should probably check that," Delaney says gently. "Could be important."
I pull out my phone and see three missed calls from Professor Harrison and two from my mother. My stomach drops like a stone. This is it. Crunch time.