Page 31 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

She turned off the county road onto a long gravel drive lined with mesquite and old oak. The headlights swept across the familiar silhouette of the ranch, a place he’d bought right after he left the military, when he’d been young and angry and in desperate need of solid ground.

Jessa slowed the SUV as the house came into view. A low, sprawling, single-story home with warm stone walls, a wide porch, and the glow of soft exterior lights that cast the place in a steady, comforting amber. The barn sat behind it, two horses tucked in for the night. The pastures stretched out beyond, dark and quiet under the Texas sky.

She’d been here plenty of times back when they were together. But tonight she looked at it like she was seeing it through different eyes.

Deacon pointed as they approached the front of the house. “I upgraded the security last year. Motion sensors on the drive. Perimeter cameras. Reinforced locks. And a silent alert to the sheriff’s office if the system gets breached.”

Jessa lifted a brow. “All that to keep bad guys out?”

He smirked. “All that to keep you out, originally.”

For half a heartbeat, she almost smiled.

The SUV rolled to a stop. She grabbed her go-bag from the back, slinging it over her shoulder with practiced ease, and they headed toward the front door. Deacon unlocked it, ushering her inside first.

The interior was clean and simple, efficient lines, cool tones, a mix of rustic and modern. Hardwood floors. Dark leather furniture. A stone fireplace. Everything in its place. No clutter. No chaos. A space built for someone who needed order after years of living by the gun.

He hit the keypad beside the door, resetting the security system with a quick series of taps.

A soft whine came from the hallway. Then a rush of paws. A black-and-tan mutt barreled toward them, ears flopping, tail whipping like a helicopter. Deacon crouched, bracing his ribs as the dog skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Easy, Ranger,” he murmured, rubbing the dog’s head.

Ranger, a rescue he’d taken in four years ago, immediately leaned into his side, nuzzling him as if he’d been gone for days.

Jessa knelt too, scratching behind the mutt’s ears. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”

Ranger’s joyous yip said yes.

Deacon stood, grimacing at the pull in his stitches. “I’ve got someone who comes by a couple times a day to check on him if I’m tied up at work.”

Jessa’s eyes softened as Ranger pressed his side against her leg. The house felt different with her in it again. Warmer, fuller, sharper at the edges. But Deacon pushed that thought down.

Or rather he tried to do that. As usual, he failed big time.

Ranger finally trotted off toward his water bowl, leaving the house quiet again. Too quiet, considering the night they’d just had.

“You want something to eat?” he asked. “I can throw together a sandwich. Or heat up something.”

Jessa shook her head immediately. “No. I’m exhausted. And I need a shower before I fall over.”

He nodded, not the least bit surprised. “Guest room’s this way.”

Even though she knew the way, he motioned down the hall, and she followed him, her boots whispering across the hardwood. The hallway lights glowed low. Warm, steady, familiar. He bypassed his own bedroom, stopped at the next one across from it and pushed the door open.

The guest room was simple, clean, functional. Queen bed, dark wooden dresser, a soft gray comforter, and a small lamp that cast a dim pool of light across the neatly made bed. He’d never had many guests. The room saw more dust than people. But Jessa had slept here before, back when they’d needed space from each other after a fight, back when space hadn’t really fixed anything.

He caught himself staring at her and looked away when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Deacon pulled it out, half hoping, half bracing, that it was Wynn. It wasn’t.

It was a text from Sheriff Chase.

Shade lawyered up. Interview’s postponed till morning. I’ll keep you updated.

Deacon felt his jaw go tight. Perfect. Just perfect.

Jessa was watching him, reading the shift in his expression. “What now?” He held the phone out so she could see. She skimmed it and groaned. “Of course he lawyered up. Coward.”

“Yep,” Deacon muttered, pocketing his phone.