By the time Darby finally calls it for the day, the sun is already sinking low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink that don’t last nearly long enough. My shoulders ache. My hands are blistered despite gloves. I welcome the exhaustion the way I welcome sleep—because there’s something satisfying about putting in a hard day’s work.
Momma took Ruby with her this evening to the ladies’ group down at her church. Something about a fall festival planning meeting, which Ruby took very seriously when it was explained to her, nodding like she’d been appointed to an important committee. That gives me a small window of time to myself—something that still feels strange after two and a half months of never being alone.
So, instead of heading straight to town, I point my truck toward Wildhaven Storm.
We’re moving into the cabin tomorrow. The little place is tucked just far enough away from the main house and the barns of the ranch to feel like it’s in its own world, close enough that I won’t be burning gas every morning. I took Ruby by it last night, showed her around, lifted her up so she could see out the bedroom window that was hers.
She was excited.
“This one’s mine?” she asked, spinning in a slow circle, like the walls might disappear if she didn’t keep an eye on them.
“All yours, bug.”
She nodded, thoughtful, then looked up at me with those big baby blues that cut straight through me. “Can I still sleep with you though?”
She’s never slept alone. Not once. Every place she’s ever lived, every couch, every bed, she’s been right there beside her mother or me. I haven’t cared. Keeping her close has been a comfort to the both of us.
But standing there in that cabin, looking at my little lady, I knew it was time to try.
So, I made a deal.
I told her if she was brave enough to ride a horse, she was definitely brave enough to sleep in her own bed. And if she tried—really tried—to stay in her room like a big girl, I’d let her start barrel racing lessons.
Her eyes went wide. “Tomorrow?”
“I can’t promise tomorrow. I have to talk to Shelby and set it all up first. But soon.”
That sealed it.
Momma’s been bringing her down to the round pen every afternoon at lunchtime so she can ride Honey while I walk alongside them. Every day, her confidence grows a little more—her back straighter, her hands steadier on the reins. She laughs now, relaxed instead of clinging.
When she agreed to the deal, all serious and solemn, like she was signing a contract, I texted Shelby.
Actually, I texted her three times.
I didn’t get a single reply.
So, here I am, pulling into Wildhaven Storm Ranch, dust kicking up behind my tires. I spot Shelby and Charli near the barn, standing with a man I don’t recognize. They’re close enough that whatever he’s saying has Shelby smiling, which, for some reason, tightens something in my chest that I don’t bother unpacking.
I park and climb out of the truck.
Charli sees me first.
Her expression darkens instantly.
What the fuck? Why does every Storm woman look at me like she wants to punch me?
Charli breaks away from the other two and meets me halfway, arms crossed, posture defensive, like she’s a bouncer at a bar and I just flashed a fake ID.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Well, hello to you too, Charli,” I say mildly. “I’m here on business. Came to speak to your sister.”
“Matty isn’t here,” she says. “She had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”
“Yeah, I meant Shelby.”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you want with Shelby?”
