But love is a luxury I don’t know how to have with Ollie. Because in my world, when you love something, you lose it.
I wave and start the engine. Tell myself I’m fine all the way back to town.
Owen falls asleep halfway home, smiling in his dreams. And I drive through the dark feeling grateful. And more cracked open than I’ve ever let myself be. Because tonight, we did feel like a family. And that terrifies me.
Chapter 5
Ollie
Days Like These by Luke Combs
Wilder Ranch smells like hay and warm sun cutting through a cold day and feels like every damn dream I ever had about what a safe life could feel like on a ranch. Horses huff contentedly in their stalls. The wind moves softly and easily through the crisp winter air. Somewhere behind me, Owen laughs loud enough that it echoes through the barn, and my chest tightens at the sound.
Wilder Ranch didn’t always feel like this. It did back when my grandparents were alive. Back then, this place was steady and happy. After they passed, it stopped being safe for my sister and me. Our parents made sure of that. I couldn’t wait to get out, to move into town, to put distance between myself and everything this place had become.
The Wilder Ranch was where all my core childhood memories were magic until I was about thirteen. Then it all changed and my parents ran it into the ground. Jack Jessop’s family ran the neighboring ranch, and they were family rivals to my parents. His father was also a criminal who is now in prison fora very long time. Jack, his siblings Weston, Jenna, and Tucker have all worked hard to turn their family’s ranch and name around. Jack fell in love with my sister Cami and they’re married now.
Jack bought our family’s ranch and folded it into his family’s land. Brought it back to life in a way I didn’t know was possible. Somehow, the magic is creeping back in, quiet and stubborn. And he renamed both ranches Wilder Ranch. Because my grandparents meant something to him and his brothers and sister, too. They were good people who loved this land, this town, and all of the people in it. Seeing it now heals something in me every time I come out here.
It’s been a week since the locker room incident. A solid week of practice that actually feels good. A week where Owen’s confidence climbs higher every day. He walks taller now, cracking jokes. He looks more like a kid who’s having fun playing a sport instead of bracing for the next insult, and that’s the way it should be. Sports saved me from my home life, and I want that for any kid there who needs it too.
Toddy coached as if it were his personal mission to break those kids down, and that’s not what sports are supposed to be about. It’s about showing up and teaching them to work hard without losing their sense of joy. About letting kids be kids. Something Poppy and I are both passionate about.
Watching them have fun feels good. Watching Owen feel safe feels even better.
And damn if isn’t the biggest win. Getting to help make a place safe again. A place where kids are protected. A place I needed when I was young, too.
Owen stands beside Jack now, brushing a chestnut mare. Jack gives him pointers, and Owen listens and watches, as if every word is gospel. His cheeks are flushed and happy, and I swear that’s all I ever want to see. He reminds me of me with mygrandpa Wilder when I was a kid in a barn working with horses. And those are the days and memories that I miss. I know my grandpa Wilder would be so proud of the way Cami and Jack have turned this place around.
On the other side of the barn, Poppy leans into Jack’s truck engine, humming off key. It’s soft and absentminded, something she does when she’s concentrating hard. I don’t think she even realizes she does it.
I do.
Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck, strands slipping loose and brushing her cheeks. It’s the color of wheat in late summer, darker near the roots where grease has smudged it, lighter at the ends. There’s a faint streak of oil along her temple she hasn’t noticed yet.
Her eyes are clear, bright blue, sharp and curious, always looking for how things work and how to fix them. Right now, they’re narrowed in focus, lashes dark against her skin. She’s got freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, the kind you only see when someone’s been outside their whole life. There’s a small scar on her knuckle from when we were teenagers and she slipped changing a tire, and another faint one near her collarbone she got long before I met her. I know every one of them.
She’s wearing her usual work clothes. Faded overalls smudged with grease. A soft gray long sleeved t-shirt underneath. No makeup. No effort to impress anyone. Just Poppy as she is when she feels safe enough to forget the rest of the world exists.
She looks relaxed here. Peaceful, as if she’s finally breathing without carrying the weight of everything on her shoulders.
The shop does that to her. Being around engines and tools and problems she can solve gives her a break from everything else that presses down on her. She needed this. I knew she did.So, when Jack and Cami invited us out and asked her to look at his truck, she didn’t hesitate for a second.
Watching her like this, I feel it again. That quiet, steady certainty that hits me every time I see her in her element.
She’s more beautiful like this than anyone dressed up and polished and perfect. Not because she’s trying. Because she isn’t.
No one else even comes close.
She smiles to herself when she gets a bolt loose, and then reaches for the replacement part.
“You’re staring,” Cami says beside me, arms crossed, sounding smug. “Big time.”
“She’s happy out here,” I murmur.
“She is,” Cami replies. “I think we all are.”
My gaze drifts to Owen’s small hand running the brushes over the horses, Jack laughing at something he said, then back to Poppy—focused, soft.
