The Last Ride
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 7
Night had settled over the small town, the desert outside quiet except for the occasional scrape of wind through the red rocks. The lanterns in Ione Beaumont’s room cast warm, flickering shadows across the walls, illuminating the plastered legs and rigid spine brace that held her body in careful alignment.
Rigg entered quietly, boots muted on the floorboards. Even after a month, he felt the tension of the day melt slightly as he crossed the room, drawn irresistibly toward her. She was sitting propped, green eyes alert and watching, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“You’re still awake,” he said softly, lowering himself into the chair beside her.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “Too quiet. Too much time to think.”
Rigg’s gaze drifted to the subtle movements of her arms, the slight rise and fall of her chest under the brace, the delicate curves of her shoulders. He felt his pulse quicken, not with lust, but with something deeper—care, fascination, concern, and a growing tenderness he could not easily define.
“I brought you some tea,” he said, lifting a small cup to her lips. Her hands, though stronger now, still trembled slightly as she guided the cup to her mouth. Their fingers brushed, and a spark of warmth passed between them. She caught his glance and smirked faintly.
“You’re too attentive, Marshal,” she teased softly.
“Too worried, maybe,” he said, voice low. “Or maybe ... too aware of how stubborn you are.”
She tilted her head, studying him with those sharp green eyes. “Stubborn enough to survive,” she said. “Do you approve?”
“I do,” he admitted, a small, reluctant smile breaking across his face. He reached out, almost instinctively, and adjusted the strap of her brace, careful but lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft laugh, a sound that made his chest tighten.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” she murmured, teasing but unafraid.
Rigg chuckled, feeling the tension between them tighten and loosen in turns. He let his hand rest lightly against the side of her brace, careful not to startle her, but close enough that the warmth of his palm pressed against her side. She shivered slightly, either from the contact or the evening chill—it was impossible to tell, and he didn’t care to separate the two.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.