"Have you slept at all?" The question was soft, careful, his voice dropping lower, like he was afraid the wrong word might send me running. He took a small step toward me, then stopped himself, respecting the distance between us.
"Some." It was a lie, and we both knew it. I'd dozed a little, leaning against the wall, jerking awake every time Bella shifted or a sound came from outside. But real sleep? The kind where you actually close your eyes and let go? I couldn't remember the last time I'd done that. My eyes dropped to the straw-covered floor, unable to hold his gaze.
Nolan's jaw tightened more visibly this time, the muscle flexing beneath his fair skin. He glanced at Bella, then back at me, and I watched him make some kind of decision behind those patient green eyes—watched the way his expression shifted, became more determined.
"She's stable." He said it carefully, like he was choosing each word with precision, his voice gentle but firm. His hands spread slightly at his sides, palms up, an open gesture. "Won't foal for at least another day or two, based on what I'm seeing. You could take a break. Get some real rest."
"I'm fine." The words came out sharper than I intended, defensive in a way I hadn't meant them to be, my chin lifting stubbornly. I forced my shoulders to relax, forced my voice into something softer, less hostile. "I said I'd watch her."
Nolan didn't argue. Didn't push. Just nodded slowly, his sandy hair catching the light from the high windows, his green eyes holding mine with an understanding that made me want tolook away. His expression was patient, accepting—no judgment, no frustration.
"Okay." He said it simply, the word soft and easy, accepting my choice without pressure. His weight shifted, settling more comfortably on his feet, like he was prepared to stay a while. "But if you change your mind, I can stay with her for a while. Give you a chance to eat something. Stretch your legs." He paused, his mouth curving into that small, careful smile again, a hint of warmth flickering in his green eyes. "I'm told the cook makes a mean breakfast burrito on Thursdays."
Despite everything—despite the exhaustion and the wariness and the voice in my head screaming at me not to let my guard down—I felt my lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but close. My arms loosened slightly where they were crossed over my chest.
"It's Thursday?" I hadn't been keeping track of the days. They all blurred together when you were running on no sleep and pure stubbornness. My voice came out rough, confused.
"All day." Nolan's smile widened slightly, crinkling the corners of his eyes, something warm and almost playful flickering in their green depths. He shifted his weight, angling his body toward the stall door. "I could bring you one, if you want. Breakfast burrito. Coffee. Whatever you need."
I should have said no. Should have told him I didn't need anything, that I could take care of myself, that I'd been doing it for years without any help from anyone. But my stomach chose that moment to growl, loud and undeniable in the quiet of the stable, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. My hand pressed against my belly as if I could silence it.
Nolan's smile softened into something almost tender, the teasing warmth fading into something gentler. He didn't comment on the noise, didn't make me feel embarrassed about it—just nodded like my answer had already been given, like my body had spoken for me and that was enough.
"I'll be back in ten minutes." He picked up his medical bag, slinging it over his shoulder, the strap settling across his broad chest, and headed for the stall door with easy, unhurried strides. At the threshold, he paused, turning back to look at me, one hand resting on the wooden frame. His green eyes found mine, steady and warm. "She's lucky, you know. Bella. Having someone watch over her like this."
I didn't know what to say to that either. Lucky wasn't a word I'd ever associated with myself, and hearing it applied to something I was doing felt strange. Foreign. Like trying on clothes that didn't quite fit.
"I'm just sitting here." My voice came out rough, dismissive, my shoulders lifting in an awkward shrug. My eyes dropped to the straw at my feet. "Anyone could do it."
"Maybe." Nolan's green eyes held mine when I looked up, steady and warm, the morning light catching the gold flecks in their depths. His expression was serious now, the smile faded, replaced by something more intent. "But you're the one who's doing it. That counts for something." He gave me one last small smile, soft and genuine, then turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the stable aisle until the creak of the main door told me he was gone.
I stood there for a long moment after he left, my back against the wall, my heart doing that strange stuttering thing in my chest. I didn't know what to do with his kindness. Didn't know what to do with the way he looked at me—like I was something worth being careful with, something worth feeding and protecting.
No one had ever looked at me like that before. Not until I came to this ranch, anyway. Bella nickered softly, drawing my attention back to her. She was watching me with those big, soft eyes, her head tilted slightly to one side like she was trying to figure me out.
"What?" I asked her, my voice rough and tired, the word coming out almost like a challenge. "You think I should trust him?" The mare just blinked at me, her long lashes sweeping down and up, and went back to her hay with a dismissive snort. Not helpful. But then again, I wasn't really expecting advice from a horse.
I sank back down onto my hay bale, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, and tried not to think about green eyes and gentle hands and a voice that made something in my chest go quiet and still.
True to his word, Nolan was back in ten minutes. He appeared in the stall doorway carrying a paper bag that smelled like heaven and a thermos of coffee that I could smell from across the room—rich and dark and exactly what I needed. My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I stopped pretending I wasn't starving.
"Breakfast burrito." Nolan crossed the stall with careful steps and set the bag on the hay bale next to me, keeping a respectful distance between us. His movements were slow, deliberate, giving me time to adjust to his presence. The scent of eggs and bacon wafted up from the bag, mixing with his eucalyptus-and-honey scent. "Eggs, cheese, bacon, peppers. And coffee—black, because I didn't know how you take it. There's cream and sugar in the bag if you want them."
I took the bag with hands that trembled slightly—from hunger or something else, I wasn't sure—and opened it to find the promised burrito wrapped in foil, still warm. The smell hit me full force, and my mouth watered. My fingers tightened on the paper bag.
"Thank you." The words came out quiet, almost lost in the space between us, barely more than a whisper. I wasn't used to thanking people. Wasn't used to having anything to thank them for. My eyes stayed fixed on the bag in my hands.
"You're welcome." Nolan's voice was soft, warm, and I heard him settle himself on the floor against the opposite wall, his back sliding down the wood until he was seated. His long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and he turned his attention to Bella rather than me—giving me the privacy to eat without feeling observed. His profile was calm, relaxed, his green eyes soft as he watched the mare.
I unwrapped the burrito and took a bite, and for a moment I forgot everything else. Forgot where I was, forgot who I was with, forgot all the reasons I shouldn't be letting my guard down. The food was hot and savory and exactly what I hadn't known I needed, the flavors bursting across my tongue.
"Good?" Nolan asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice even though I wasn't looking at him. He kept his gaze on Bella, giving me space.
"Yeah." I took another bite, then another, forcing myself to slow down even though every instinct screamed at me to wolf it down before someone took it away. My voice came out muffled around the food. "Really good."
We sat in silence while I ate, the only sounds Bella's occasional shifting and the distant noises of the ranch waking up outside. It should have been awkward—two people who barely knew each other, sitting in a horse stall at dawn—but somehow it wasn't. Somehow it felt almost... peaceful.
I hated how much I didn't hate it.
