Angry tears stream down my cheeks, and I swipe at them furiously. How could he give up? I never imagined he'd just quit like this.
I take the porch steps two at a time, the bang of the screen door echoing behind me as I climb into my truck. By the time I get home, I barely take a breath before heading straight to the stables. I need to ride. I need distance. I need to figure out what the hell to do about Wes—about all of this.
The temperature is dipping, and the wind is frigid against my cheeks as I tack up Dolly. I want to beg Wes to stay, but I don’t want to be one more person he’s scared to disappoint.
The farther I get from my house, the clearer everything becomes. I understand why Pops made this decision now. He knows Wes as well as I do. He doesn’t want him to feel obligated to stay, to shoulder a burden that isn’t his.
Maybe that means I should let Wes go, too.
Maybe I shouldn’t fight for him, tooth and nail.
My heart twists painfully in my chest, and I give Dolly free rein as the cold air freezes the tears on my face. My breath whispers past my lips like puffs of smoke from a chimney, vanishing into the wind. Before long, Dolly leads us to the spot Wes brought us to not so long ago with the sandy buttes, the copse of trees, and the pond with the water rippling in the wind.
I could have stayed inside my heated house to cry, but this is more fitting.
It feels right to mourn the loss of Dawson Ranch right here, in its most beautiful spot.
I dismount, my boots crushing the brown grass. The trees have gone bare over the last few weeks. Winter’s snuck in quick this year and I rub my hands together to keep warm as I cry for a number of reasons.
For Pops and my fear of losing him.
For the ranch and whatever will happen to the wild land that encompasses it.
For Wes leaving and the knowledge that whatever we had will be gone.
I sob for it all, and when my toes are numb and my fingers feel like ice in my gloves, I hear a horse picking its way through the dry prairie grass.
There’s a thump as his boots hit the ground on dismount, and my back straightens when I feel him step up behind me. I wipe off the tears that stain my cheeks before crossing my arms and turning around to findWes in a Carhartt coat, watching me with soft eyes and a plaid blanket draped over his arm.
“You’re gonna freeze out here, Red. I've been looking everywhere for you.” He unfolds the blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. I grab it and tuck my chin inside the warmth of the heavy material.
My nose is running from the cold and the crying, and I surreptitiously swipe at it with the corner of the blanket before turning back toward Wes. “You stole my horse,” I mumble.
"I needed a horse to chase you around the entire countryside. Guess that means I owe you one," he says.
I give him a reluctant smile. "Guess so."
"I saw you tearin’ down Pops’ driveway. I thought you went home. I went to look for you and your truck was there, but you were nowhere to be found. When I noticed Dolly was gone, I got worried you were out in this cold.”
Gray clouds hang low in the sky over the field, and I can make out tiny flurries of snow beginning to swirl in the mid-November air. "I needed to ride for a bit."
He peers down at me with those hazel eyes flecked in gold. “You heard what Pops said about selling the ranch?” he guesses.
I nod, swiping away a stray tear. He stays quiet for a moment before stepping closer.
“I’m sorry about what happened at your place.”
I bite my bottom lip, willing it not to tremble.
“I felt manipulated… like everything I believed was real between us had been a lie, too.”
My eyes snap to his, and I shake my head back and forth vehemently. "Nothing between us was a lie, Wes."
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt. "I told you how I felt about you last night… and I guess I'm still not sure how you feel about me."
His voice is steady, but I don’t miss the way he avoids my eyes, the restless energy in his stance. Wes rarely fidgets—he’s always been the kind of man who stands firm, who knows exactly where he belongs. But right now, he’s unsure, waiting for me to either pull him closer or push him away.
It makes me want to soothe the lingering doubt, so I can get the self-assured Wes back. I had worried he might think it was another strategic maneuver on my part if I told him how I felt. But looking at him now, I know he needs to hear the truth.
