He reached out, slowly, deliberately, and brushed that smudge of dust from her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his calloused finger, and she leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly.
“We should...” she started, but didn’t finish, didn’t step away.
His hand lingered, cupping her cheek now. “Should what?” he asked, his voice rough with wanting.
“I don’t know anymore,” she admitted, and he felt the tremble in her breath against his wrist.
He leaned down, drawn by something beyond thought orreason, something more powerful than gravity. Her lips parted on a shaky exhale, her eyes fluttering closed as she tilted her face up to meet him. The space between them narrowed to nothing, their breath mingling in the cool air of the tack room.
The rumble of a diesel engine firing to life outside shattered the moment.
Johanna jerked back, eyes wide. Walker’s hand fell away from her face as they both turned toward the sound.
“That’s—” she started.
“Jonah’s truck,” he finished, already moving toward the door. She was right on his heels.
“Where’s he going? It’s supposed to storm.”
A fine, misty snow had begun to fall while they were inside, and the temperature had dropped sharply as the storm front approached. Walker’s breath clouded in front of him as he moved.
Jonah’s battered Silverado was parked beneath the big cottonwood, its engine running, exhaust billowing white in the cold air. Jonah stood beside it, methodically scraping snow and ice from the windshield. A duffel bag was on the seat, visible through the passenger window.
“Dammit,” Walker muttered, quickening his pace with Johanna right behind him.
“Jonah,” she called, her voice carrying across the yard. “What are you doing?”
He straightened, the scraper still in his gloved hand. “I appreciate everything you’ve both done for me, but it’s time for me to move on.”
Walker stopped a few feet away, close enough to talk without shouting but far enough to give Jonah space. “Where will you go?”
“I’ve got a buddy from my unit in Spokane. He’s got a couch I can crash on until I figure out my next move.” His jawwas set, his decision made. “Already cleared it with my parole officer.”
“That’s a four-hour drive,” Johanna said, stepping forward. “And it’s supposed to storm tonight.”
“I’ve driven through worse.”
“What happened with Hank?—”
“It’s not just that.” Jonah’s gaze shifted to the barn where Sunshine’s stall was visible through the open door. The mare was leaning out of her stall, staring in their direction, and a flash of something like pain crossed his face before he masked it. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t fit here.”
“That’s bullshit,” Walker said, the words escaping before he could soften them. “You fit just fine. With the horses, with the work.”
“And what about Sunny?” Johanna asked.
Jonah turned back to his truck, scraping the last bit of ice from the windshield. “Sunny deserves someone who’s staying. Someone who can give her consistency.”
Walker caught the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned the mare. The kid was attached, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. “She’s bonded with you. You’re willing to break her heart like that?”
His shoulders tensed. “She’ll be fine.”
“Son,” Walker said, the word slipping out before he could stop it, “running doesn’t solve anything. Trust me on that.”
Jonah finally turned to face them fully, snowflakes catching in his auburn hair and on the shoulders of his jacket. His expression was carefully blank, but his eyes—those gave him away. They were the eyes of a man who’d already made up his mind but was still fighting to convince himself he was right.
“I’m not running,” he said, but his gaze slid away. “I’m being realistic. I tried to help, and I made things worse. Story of my life.”
“You made a mistake,” Johanna said. “We all do. That doesn’t mean you don’t belong here.”
