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But hell, I know it's more than attention between me and Nora. It's a fire that can't be doused by doubt or fear, not by mine nor her daddy's. It's raw and real, and it kills me that I can’t shout that truth for both of them to hear.
Nora bites her lip.
Damn.
I can't stand here and watch her crumble under the weight of her father's fears. I step forward, my boots thudding on the worn wooden floor of the barn. "Nora," I start, my voice low but unwavering, "I know this is hard, and I know your daddy's only lookin’ out for you, but what we have..." My hand reaches out to her, hovering in the space between us, desperate to bridge it. "It's real, darlin'. Don't let fear steal away something that could be damn beautiful."
Her eyes, those big doe-like pools reflecting a storm of emotions, meet mine. Tears brim and threaten to spill over, carving wet trails down her cheeks. She blinks rapidly, trying to hold them back, trying to hold everything back.
"Your dad's right about one thing—I am experienced," I admit, and there's no shame in that truth because with every year, every heartbreak, I've built up to this moment, to her. "But that just means I know when something's worth fightin' for. And Nora, you’re worth every damn second of the fight."
She stands frozen, a statue carved of confusion and longing, torn between the pull of her blood and the call of her heart. Her lips part slightly, trembling as if they're battling the words that want to escape.
"Dad says..." Her voice is barely above a whisper, carried away by the tension in the room. "Sawyer, I don't know if I can?—"
"Can what?" I push gently, needing her to voice it, to own whatever fear's got her shackled. "Can stand up for yourself? Can choose who to love? 'Cause I think you can, Nora. You're strong, fierce even. Don't let anyone, not even him," I nod toward Edward, my gaze never leaving hers, "tell you otherwise."
The silence stretches between us, so thick I reckon I could lasso it. She chews on her bottom lip—a nervous habit I've come to find endearing—and I see the battle raging within her. Love versus loyalty. Desire versus duty. It's tearing her apart, and fuck if it doesn't tear at me too.
"Say something, darlin’," I coax, willing her to speak her mind, to listen to that wild heart I know beats inside her chest. "Tell me you feel it too. This ain’t just some fling. It's you and me, against the odds."
Nora's shoulders slump as if the burden's grown too heavy. Her tears finally break free, rushing down her face like a river after a storm. Yet, despite the downpour, there's a fire in her eyes that refuses to be snuffed out.
"Sawyer, I—" She starts, but the rest gets lost, choked back by a sob.
"Take your time," I say softly, giving her the space she needs because I know this ain't easy. But I also know we won't get nowhere if we don't face this head-on, together. The rawness, the intensity of it all—it's what makes this real. It's what makes us real.
The air in the barn's thick with tension, a storm brewing in Edward's eyes—a hurricane about to make landfall on my damn face. His step forward is all it takes, and his fist comes swinging like a sledgehammer. I don't back down, never have, not with the stakes this high.
"Damn it, Sawyer! Stay away from my daughter!" Edward snarls, a wild fire in his gaze.
"Like hell I will," I grunt out as I dodge his punch, feeling the whoosh of air as it narrowly misses my jaw. I ain't no stranger to a brawl, but fighting Nora's father? That's a new level of hell I hadn't planned on visiting.
"Stop it! Both of you, please!" Nora's scream slices through the cacophony of our grunts and the thud of fists against flesh.
I throw a punch that lands square on Edward's shoulder, feeling the jolt run up my arm. He retaliates with a blow that grazes my cheek. We're two rams butting heads, locked in a battle neither is willing to lose. Every hit, every grunt echoes Nora's name in my head—she's the reason for this fight, the prize, and the damn referee all rolled into one.
Nora rushes toward us, her hands reaching out in a futile attempt at peacekeeping. "Dad! Sawyer! Please, this isn't the way!"
"Stay out of it, Nora!" Edward roars, even as he throws another punch, which I sidestep, my boots scuffing the dirt floor.
"Fuck, Eddie, don't you see you're scaring her?" I spit out between clenched teeth, trying to keep my focus, though every cell in my body screams to wrap Nora up and shield her from this ugliness.
"Scaring her? You're corrupting her, you son of a—" His words cut off with a grunt as I land a solid hit, and I'm not sure if it's satisfaction or regret that twists in my gut.
"Stop hurting each other!" Nora's plea's desperate, her voice shattering against the wooden beams above.
Her face is a canvas of fear and anguish, tears streaking down her cheeks, and it stabs at me sharper than any punch ever could. This ain't what I wanted—for her to witness her world, her men, her heart, clashing in a violent dance meant for enemies, not lovers, not family.
"Enough!" The word explodes from her lips, and everything freezes for a heartbeat—my fist midair, Edward's face a mask of rage, the dust swirling around us like specters.
A sob breaks from her chest, raw and ragged, slicing through the chaos. It's the sound of breaking—her heart, my resolve, the very earth beneath our feet.
"Please," she whimpers, and God, if that plea doesn't bring me to my knees.
I shove Edward hard, and he stumbles back. Blood tastes like iron in my mouth, and I swipe at the trickle leaking from my split lip. My chest rises and falls like I've been running miles instead of trading blows with a man old enough to know better. But hell, I should've known better too.
"Look what you've done!" Nora cries out, her voice trembling worse than a leaf in a storm.
