“You sure you’re good?” I ask.
He gives a small, tired exhale. “Now that they’re gone? Yeah. I’m good.”
I touch his arm one more time—soft enough no one would notice, firm enough he feels it. “I’ll bring her back focused.”
He nods. “I trust you.”
And just like that, something warm and solid settles between us again.
I turn toward the warm-up pen, heart steadying, steps quickening, ready to gather my girl and make sure her head, and her heart, are right where they need to be.
Time to get her ready to fly.
22
COLE
Aria is vibrating. Not just excited—she’s glowing. She’s standing on the podium, her ribbon in both hands, Daisy beside her, clutching her own, both girls grinning like someone hung the moon just for them.
The crowd cheers as the announcer calls their names again. Zane whistles loud enough to break glass, Beck lifts Oliver onto his shoulders, Tessa’s crying into Jace’s shirt, and he’s pretending he isn’t wiping his own eyes on the sleeve of his flannel.
And me? I’m just… trying to breathe.
Because my daughter, my girl, just won her first medal at a barrel racing competition, and I can’t remember the last time Ifelt this proud. Aria runs straight to me the second the photos wrap up. I catch her mid-jump, lifting her off the ground as she laughs into my neck.
“Daddy! I did it! I did it!”
My voice cracks. “Yeah, baby. You did.”
She pulls back, breathless, cheeks tinted pink. “Miss Ella taught me everything. She told me to breathe, trust myself, trust Cinder, and it worked and—“
I glance at Ella, who is standing a few feet away, watching us with Aria’s helmet tucked under one arm, her cheeks flushed from the sun, brown curls escaping her braid in soft wisps. She looks proud, relieved, and a little emotional. She gives me a small smile, the quiet, private kind she only ever gives when it’s just for me.
I mouth, “Thank you.”
Her smile deepens, her eyes warming. God help me.
The entire Morgan clan piles into the holding pen for pictures after. Mom insists on taking some on her phone “for the mantle, honey,” and Aria poses with everyone, including Daisy, Tessa, and Ava, who hands Luella to Zane so she can fuss over both girls.
The celebratory dinner ends up being a chaotic Morgan-style feast. Hank grills, Ava makes a massive salad, Quinn bakescornbread because Mom brought the lemon bars, and we all know she’ll fight whoever tries to compete with her desserts.
Aria barely sits still, buzzing all over the place, replaying her run in perfect, breathless detail. Daisy is the same, and I spend most of dinner with some strange ache blooming in my chest, watching my daughter be so… happy.
And I know exactly who helped her get there.
Ella catches my eye across the table at one point, and something tightens in my throat. She has no idea what she’s done for us. I need to make sure I properly thank her later.
After dinner, dessert, every congratulation and celebration the girls can possibly withstand, I take Aria back to our cabin while the rest of the family starts cleaning up.
She drags her feet the whole way, suddenly exhausted. I tuck her into bed, smoothing her hair back, brushing a kiss to her forehead.
“Daddy?” she mumbles sleepily.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for letting me do barrel racing.”
My chest pulls tight. “Thank you for loving it.”
