I manage a weak smile and step farther into the room, every instinct telling me I don’t quite belong here. Still, the smell of food is too inviting to ignore.
Colter isn’t here. I can feel the absence like a draft in the room, subtle but impossible to ignore.
Someone slides a plate toward me filled with eggs, biscuits, something that looks like homemade jam. I murmur a quiet “thanks,” even though I’m not sure who handed it over. The scrape of chairs resumes, conversation slowly picking back up.
“Sleep okay?” Jackson asks after a moment, tone unreadable.
I nod, stabbing absently at my eggs. “Yeah. Fine.”
He studies me for a beat longer, like he knows that’s a lie, then hums under his breath and goes back to his food.
The rhythm of the table takes me in after that. Jackson’s ridiculous stories, the way the men laugh too loud, someone arguing about whether a horse outsmarted them yesterday. It’s easy to get lost in it. Easy to pretend this is normal.
But under it all, my thoughts keep slipping back to last night. To Colter’s voice, low and steady, the way he said my name like it anchored him. The way he looked at me right before the world went quiet between us.
“Colter’s out in the south field,” Ace says, like he can read my mind. “Had a call come in early about a fence that went down. He’ll be back in later.”
I nod, pretending that information doesn’t send a little pulse through me. “He always start this early?”
Jackson snorts. “Man never stops. Think he sleeps with one eye open.”
That earns a few laughs, and I find myself smiling before I mean to.
Maybe that’s how it starts, I think. The soft pull of belonging sneaking up on you when you least expect it.
After a while, the plates are empty and people start scattering, grabbing hats, finishing coffee, heading toward the day waiting outside. The kitchen quiets, leaving behind only thefaint sound of boots on wood and the smell of coffee that’s gone lukewarm.
I stay seated for a moment longer, fingers tracing the edge of my mug, trying to ignore the restless feeling curling in my stomach.
Because as easy as it is to sink into this illusion of calm, I know better.
Things this peaceful never last.
It’s nearly a week before Colter takes me back to John’s. By now, I’ve figured out I won’t be staying in the room Sutton set up for me at Broken Ridge. Somehow, that boundary disappeared without us ever talking about it.
Part of me knows I should slow things down, that this isn’t how normal relationships work. Not that I’d know whatnormaleven looks like. But still, it feels like we’ve skipped all the middle parts. One minute we were circling each other, and the next… I was waking up tangled in his sheets, his world already wrapping around mine before I had the chance to question it.
Colter hasn’t said we’re together. Not officially. There’s been no label, no conversation. Only heat and quiet understanding and the unspoken certainty that, for now, I’m his.
John doesn’t seem to mind that I’m staying with Colter. Sutton’s another story. She smiles, says this is how cowboys are, that when they want something, they don’t waste time. But there’s a flicker in her eyes when she says it. A tiny crack of caution that she tries to hide but doesn’t quite manage.
I don’t think she doubts Colter. She trusts him. What she doesn’t trust are the shadows sitting between all of us. The things we don’t say, the histories we keep buried.
This thing with Colter… it’s new. Terrifyingly new. Being wanted like this, beingseen, it’s a language I’ve never spoken. My life before this was about survival, about staying small and unseen.
Love, or whatever this is, feels too big for someone like me. And yet, when I’m with him, I start to believe I might be able to learn it. Being with Colter feels safe and secure which surprises me. It’s a powerful feeling; one I haven’t experienced before. Not truly. I want to hold on to that security and never let it go.
I want to talk to him about getting a job. One that actually pays, not only mucking out stalls for John. Not that I’ve been doing that over the past few days while I’ve been at Colter’s. I’d talked to him about helping out at Black Diamond, but he shut that idea fast saying that is what they have ranch hands for.
Sutton had been thrilled this morning when I told her I was coming over. She didn’t say anything about the sudden change with Colter; she simply smiled and nodded as if everything was perfect.
When he’d dropped me off this morning, I’d been reluctant to get out of the truck. The cab still held the faint smell of coffee and leather, and the weight of his hand had lingered on my thigh long after he’d put the gearshift into park.
I’d wanted to stay there, just for a few more minutes. To exist in that quiet bubble we’d built, where the world couldn’t reach us. But John had already been standing on the porch, coffee mug in hand, watching us with that patient, knowing expression he gets when he’s pretending not to be amused.
So, I forced myself to climb out, clutching my jacket tighter around me as the early chill of the morning bit at my skin.
“Peyton,” Colter had said, his voice low enough that only I could hear it. I’d leaned back against the open door, my pulse flickering wildly beneath my skin.
