When training wraps up, Aria hugs me so tightly I almost drop to my knees. She skips back toward the cabin, shouting that she can’t wait for tomorrow’s session. I watch her go, smiling faintly.
Ava’s words echo in my mind. Men like Cole don’t run because they don’t care. They run because they care too much.
I take a slow breath, feeling the dust settle around my boots, the sun warming my shoulders, the familiar ache of remembering who I was before everything fell apart, and who I’m finally becoming again.
This time, my healing won’t come from a doctor, a therapist, or a forced break from the saddle. It’ll come from choosing to reclaim myself. Piece by piece. Day by day.
And if Cole Dawson eventually learns that I’m not someone you push aside… well. That’s his lesson to learn.
I dust off my hands, gather the reins, and turn toward the barn with a quiet, steady resolve building in my chest.
I’m playing the long game, and I’m not losing.
16
COLE
I’m halfway across the ranch yard when I realize I’ve been checking my watch every two damn minutes, like some idiot waiting on a dentist appointment instead of the woman who’s been living rent-free in my mind for weeks.
It’s just paperwork.
That’s what I tell myself as I climb the front porch steps to the cabin turned administrative office for the duration of this project, papers tucked under my arm, boots tracking dust behind me. I need Ella’s signature on a few purchase orders—gravel supply approvals, updated labor estimates, and the authorization for the foundation team scheduled tomorrow at dawn. Simple, normal shit. Nothing complicated. Nothing thatshould make my chest tighten the way it does when I reach for her door.
But it’s Ella. Which means nothing is ever simple.
I knock once. No answer.
I try again, harder. Still nothing.
I frown, glance through the side window, and see the glow of a lamp spilling across the floor. She’s here. She has to be. She always is. Morning, night, and every stolen second in between, she pours herself into this ranch the way she pours herself into taking care of everyone else.
I hesitate only a moment before pushing the door open. “Ella? I just need you for a sec…”
The words die in my throat the second I step inside.
She’s on the couch, curled tightly on her side, a throw blanket twisted around her legs like she fought it off in her sleep. Her chest rises and falls too fast—shallow, uneven. One of her hands is clenching the cushion so hard her knuckles are white.
My stomach drops. She’s not sleeping. She’s trapped. The kind I know too damn well.
“Ella!”
She flinches at her own name, body jerking like someone just struck her. She makes a sound—broken, soft, terrified—and I’m across the room before I realize I’ve even moved.
I kneel at the edge of the couch and touch her shoulder as gently as I can. “Ella, sweetheart… wake up.”
She gasps so sharply it slices clean through me, and suddenly she’s clawing up from the nightmare so violently she nearly falls off the couch. I catch her before she hits the floor, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into my chest.
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Her breath shudders, and for a moment she doesn’t know where she is—eyes unfocused, wide, shimmering with tears she’s trying to blink back even while trembling in my arms.
And then she realizes it’s me. Her fingers fist in the front of my shirt, gripping like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she loosens even an inch.
“Cole.”
It’s a whisper, but it tears something open in me. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.”
