“But I want to stay involved. What if instead of coaching the pros, I lend a hand in the youth outreach program? There are kids out there who need football and what this game gave me when I lost my dad. It’s an outlet. A place for them to feel like they can belong. The program is good, but it can be so much better, and I want to help make it that.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then a slow smile spreads. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah. I am.” Since Coach called me, I’ve been thinking of my future as either running Oakwood as a horse ranch or going back to the Stormhawks to be part of the coaching staff. Football is a part of who I am. Turning my back on it completely isn’t the answer, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another choice. A way I can do both.
Coach leans back, nodding. “I’m proud of you, son. That’s one hell of a thing you’re proposing. Let me speak to management, but I have a feeling they’ll be biting your hand off.”
We clasp hands again and Coach pulls me in for a manly half-hug. And when I walk away from his office this time, it feels like I’m walking toward my future.
I’m climbing into my truck in the parking lot when my phone rings. Izzy. Seeing her name light up on my screen causes my pulse to race, my movements urgent. There’s so much I have to say. I answer with a rushed, “Izzy, I need to tell you?—”
“Is Mad with you?” Her words cut over mine, just as rushed but laced with a panic that stops me dead. “Are you at the ranch?”
“No. I’m at the stadium, but I’m leaving now. I’m half an hour away. What’s?—”
“Is Mama there or Jake or Chase?”
“No, they’re in New York. What’s going on?”
Her next words come in a frantic rush. “Hooper picked Mad up from school and she asked him to drop her off at the ranch and he did and now she’s there and I think… I think she’s run away, Dylan. She’s been so upset about not being there.” Her voice breaks before she heaves in a breath. “I’m on the other side of the city. It’s going to take me hours to get to the ranch.”
I start the engine and throw it into drive. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes and I’ll call Travis. Don’t worry, Iz. Mad is a smart girl. She’ll be OK.”
“Call me as soon as you get there,” Izzy replies.
“I will,” I promise, already moving the truck to the parking lot barriers. They rise with an infuriating slowness, but then I’m out, heading for the highway, my phone on speaker as I call Travis. The second time it goes to voicemail, my eyes flick to the clock on the dash. The feed delivery is due now. Travis will be unloading it to the feed stores.
What was Madison thinking? My heart refuses to slow as I hit the highway and gun the accelerator. Images of the night my daddied fill my head. The horse rearing at the sound of the thunder. The hooves coming down. The sickening thud of impact. My pulse races, breath short. What if Madison tries to talk to Fury? What if he’s spooked? What if she falls?
My hands grip the steering wheel. I can’t lose her. My whole world feels like it’s shifting beneath me. Madison has to be OK. I’ll make sure of it. Because just as I’m certain that my future lies with the ranch, there is no possible version of that future that doesn’t have Izzy and Mad in it.
FORTY
DYLAN
I hit the dirt track to Oakwood Ranch in a cloud of dust, skidding to a stop on the driveway and running straight for the open barn.
“Madison?” I call out, my heart sinking at the sight of the empty space.
There’s a movement behind me and I spin toward it, but it’s Travis, not Mad. He’s carrying a bag of feed and looks surprised to see me. “Hey, Dylan. You’re back early.”
“Have you seen a little girl?” I blurt out. “Dark blonde hair. Eight years old.”
His brow furrows as he shakes his head. “No, but it’s funny though because I was in the paddock with the mares, and…”
“What is it?” I push, willing him to get to the point.
“I think one of the mares is missing. I was just going to call you.”
“The little one, Rosie?” I ask.
“Yeah, how did you know?”
I glance over to the paddocks. Mad has taken Rosie. She knows she’s not supposed to go out without one of us. Izzy was right. She’s run away.
I’m already sprinting to the ranch house to get Buck as I yell at Travis, “Grab me Rusty’s saddle.”
It takes minutes before the orange gelding is ready and Buck is by our side. I don’t know how much use he’ll be, but Madison adores him. If anyone can coax her back to the ranch, it’s Buck. I swing into the saddle, my pulse hammering. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be on Rusty’s back, urging him toward the lake with nothing but a gentle squeeze of my thighs. We slow to a fast walk as we hit the trees. I’m breathing fast, barely registering the dewy pine scents and the cool of the shade before we’re by the lake and I’m scanning the water and banks for any sign of Madison or Rosie.
