I swallow. “I think so.”
She nods slowly, then offers something I didn’t expect.
“When Gwen left, he didn’t talk to anyone for months. He stayed out here, buried himself in work and music and horses. Didn’t let anyone in. You’re the first person I’ve seen him look at like that since…”
Her voice trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish.
I already feel the weight of it in my chest.
“You’re not some fling to him, Charlotte. If you were,you’d already be gone.” She gives me a long look. “Has he told you about our family’s history?”
“He told me about Elijah Stone founding the ranch.”
“Did he tell you about Elijah’s wife, Mary?”
I shake my head.
“Elijah met Mary in town at a Sunday social. Two weeks later they were married. Same thing happened when my grandpa met my grandma.” Phern smiles. “Supposedly, they hardly left their bedroom during that first month. Sounds familiar, if you ask me.”
“That’s sweet, but that was a long time ago.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just scared.”
The tractor swings back around again, and Sam catches my gaze from across the snow. Just one look. But it’s enough to make my breath catch.
Phern bumps my arm gently. “Don’t go breaking my brother’s heart unless you’re absolutely sure he deserves it.”
“I’m not planning on it,” I whisper. “But I’m scared he’s going to break mine.”
She shrugs. “Yeah. That’s kind of how you know it’s real.”
I blink fast, trying to clear the sudden sting behind my eyes. But it’s no use. The tears come anyway. Not the ugly kind. Just quiet. Hot. Honest. Because somewhere between a snowy bridge and Sam Stone's hands on my skin, I let something real take root.
And now it’s terrifying.
Phern doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t fuss. She just steps a little closer, nudges my arm with hers, and says, “You don’t have to decide everything right now, Charlotte. You just have to be honest. With him. With yourself.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” She glances toward the drive, where Sam’s just slowing the tractor to a stop. “He’s not perfect. Lord knowshe’s stubborn. But if you’re looking for a man who’ll stand beside you when shit hits the fan? You’ve found him.”
I follow her gaze, watching Sam hop down from the cab. He wipes his brow with the sleeve of his flannel, sun cutting across his face, his eyes already scanning for me. When he finds me, he gives a half smile—small, crooked, pure Sam.
And it hits me.
He’s not the fantasy.
He’s the man.
And he might just be mine.
Phern clears her throat beside me. “I’ll go check the barn. Let y’all talk.”
She walks away without waiting for a reply, boots crunching over the snow.
Sam starts toward me, shovel in hand, brow furrowed like he knows something’s shifted. My hands fist inside my borrowed sleeves as I wait.
“You okay?”
