“Sure as hell sounded like it,” I snap. “You think you get to claim me like some prize?”
He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me. “That guy was hitting on you.”
“And?” I throw my hands out. “I’m a big girl, Sullivan. I can handle myself.”
“You don’t think I know that? I see it every day, Iz,” he replies. “You’re so good at taking care of yourself you’ve built sky-high walls and you’re not letting anyone in, least of all me.”
“So what are we doing here then?” I throw back, my heart pounding in my chest. A voice inside my head is screaming at me to back away, like I’m on that trailer roof in the storm, knowing I’m making a mistake.
“Right now? I have no idea.” He sighs. “I want you, Iz. And maybe I didn’t say it right back there, but I’m not going to pretend I didn’t feel something watching that guy flirt with you.”
Suddenly, everything feels too much. Too intense. So I do the only thing I know how to do. I walk away. I yank open the truck door, climb in, and slam it shut.
The drive back to the ranch is silent. Anger hangs heavy between us. The second we’re rolling to a stop in the driveway, I’m out. Striding across the dirt. Boots kicking up dust. My pulse hammering in my ears.
I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all Dylan Sullivan.
The second I’m inside the trailer, the door slammed shut behind me, I press my back against the cool metal. I grab my phone and throw myself onto the bed.
My fingers fly furiously over the screen as I tap out a message to Flic, filling it with expletives and pitchfork emojis. I’m still breathing fast as I read it back. My thumb hovers over send, but I hesitate, already hearing Flic’s mocking tone in my head.
So another man hit on you and Dylan stepped in. Did he punch the guy? Did he threaten to kill him? No! He just made it clear that the guy didn’t have a chance.
Tears prick at my eyelids. I can feel the shadows of annoyance shifting to something else and I don’t want to go there. I know where I am with righteous indignation. It’s practically my default setting. But the other feeling is creeping in, taking over. I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing the first tears to fall as my mind races back over our evening. Our perfect evening I didn’t want to end.
Then the little boy came over to us and Dylan lit up, like he was stepping into a role he belonged in. Like football was still his world. Like it always will be. A stone lodges in my chest. Sharp-edged and cutting. It’s not anger I’m feeling. It’s fear. Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop seeing this ranch and this lifeas a distraction for Dylan. And one day soon he’ll get bored and go back to his old life, and he and his friends will laugh about the time he played at being rancher.
Where does that leave me? And Madison?
The stone moves to my throat, blocking my airway.
No matter how much I want to deny it, Dylan is more than an itch I want scratched. He’s more than the magnetic pull I feel around him. And that terrifies me more than I can voice. Because if I continue down this road, if I let him in and he proves me right, it will be Hooper all over again, and I’m not sure I have the strength to pick up the shattered pieces of myself a second time.
Maybe if this was just about me, I could go all in. But it’s not. I have to think about what’s best for Madison too. If Dylan lets her down like her dad, it will destroy whatever whispers of trust she has in men. She deserves better.
Silent tears trail down my face. Madison deserves… She deserves… A sob catches in my throat. She deserves someone who’ll build her a rope swing. Someone who’ll throw her a dinner with burgers because she’s sad and it’s her favorite food. She deserves someone who listens to her and treats her like she matters. She deserves all the tiny moments I’ve seen between her and Dylan in the time they’ve spent together, heads bent, talking and teasing. The way she lights up around him. The way I do. I press my palms to my eyes. I don’t know if I can trust Dylan. But if I don’t try—if I let fear win before I’ve taken a step—then I’ve already failed Madison. And I’ve failed myself.
I draw in a shuddering breath and push myself off the bed. I will not let fear be the reason I don’t try. With that, I throw open the trailer door and head out into the night.
THIRTY-FOUR
DYLAN
I scrub a hand over my face as I pace my bedroom in long, impatient strides. I’m torn, furious. Confused. My mind stuck on a loop. I want to storm after Izzy and yell at her for being so infuriating. But another part of me wants to stay right where I am and leave Izzy to her irritation. What the hell just happened?
We were having a good time. No—the best time. It felt like we were really getting to know each other. Telling her about Dad and the night he died, her hand in mine, her eyes softening like she was right there with me. It meant something.
Then it went to shit over one comment. I head for my weights corner, needing the burn of a routine—a distraction. I grip the dumbbells tight in my hands, launching straight into a vicious set that has my pulse racing in seconds. I close my eyes, leaning into the burn of each rep, but all I see is Izzy—the fire in her eyes as we argued. The way she spun on me, ready to fight—because that’s what she does. The way her voice wavered, just for a second, before she stormed away. I drop the weights with a frustrated growl, my heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with the workout. It’s just one fight. Not our first, and it won’t be our last, I’m sure, but I don’t know what this means for us.
My feelings for Izzy are tied up with the ranch and the horses and this life I’m carving for myself. A mess I need to untangle. But I’m not giving up. She can push me away, pick fights, slam those walls up, but I know that beneath the cutting remarks, that temper that flares from nowhere, the jokes, and the eye rolls is a woman who is kind and funny. The way she loves Madison is fierce. She’s a protector. Not just for her daughter, but for the horses too. I know without a shadow of a doubt that she’d burn everything to the ground to protect what she loves.
My thoughts spin as I strip off my clothes and stride to the bathroom, heading straight for the huge walk-in shower. I turn the shower to hot and step beneath the spray. The heat of the water pounds my shoulders, rolling down my back as I brace my hands against the tiles and try to empty my head.
Then I hear it. A noise that I think might be Buck coming to say hi, but when I turn, it’s Izzy standing in the entrance to the shower. Her cheeks are flushed, her green eyes wide and glassy. She looks wild and so fucking beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, her voice soft but urgent.
I push my hair back, water dripping down my face, and step out of the spray, not giving a damn that I’m naked right now. “I shouldn’t have said?—”
