"It will."
He left, the door clicking shut behind him, and I was alone again with the ledger and the weight of what came next.
Ruby stopped by an hour later.I was still staring at the same pages, my coffee gone cold.
She didn't knock.Just walked in carrying a clipboard and a thermos, setting both down with the kind of efficiency that suggested she'd already decided how this conversation would go.
"You look like hell," she said.
"Thanks."
"I’ve got stock updates."She flipped through the clipboard, rattling off names and timelines I only half-absorbed.The rodeo machine was grinding forward whether I was ready or not.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she cleared her throat."So, how are you handling Lilah leaving in a couple days?"
The words cut me off at the knees.I looked up."What?"
"She’s running a teaching clinic," Ruby said, her eyes glued to her notes."Down in Bozeman.I thought maybe you could offer to let her take one of the horses she's been working with.It would be good exposure."
My chest tightened."She didn't mention it."
Ruby's gaze sharpened."Are you surprised?"
I didn't have an answer.
She set the clipboard down, her expression softening in that way that meant she was about to say something I wouldn't want to hear."She's good at what she does, Dawson.People are starting to notice.The town will feel it when she's gone."
The town.Not me.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat."How long will she be gone?"
"A week, maybe two.Depends on how it goes."She paused, studying me."You didn't know."
It wasn't a question.
"No."
Ruby sighed, the sound carrying more weight than I expected."That girl doesn't ask permission, and she doesn't wait around for someone to tell her she's allowed to leave.If you want her to stay, you're going to have to give her a reason that isn't silence."
She picked up her clipboard and thermos, heading for the door.Before she left, she glanced back.
"Don't let the rodeo be the only thing you fight for."
After she left, I sat there, the ledger forgotten.Lilah was leaving.
Not forever.Not yet.But she was already planning her next step, building her path forward, and I'd been so focused on managing risk and containing damage that I hadn't noticed she'd stopped waiting for me to catch up.
I'd kept her close without claiming her.Let her into my routine without making room for her in my future.Held her at night and then buried myself in paperwork the next morning, convinced that restraint was the same as respect.
It wasn't.I was a fucking coward.
And now she was leaving, because I hadn’t given her a reason to believe staying was an option.
I found her in the barn, checking cinches and sorting tack with the kind of methodical focus that meant she'd already compartmentalized whatever came next.
She didn't look up when I stopped in the doorway.Just kept working, her hands steady as she coiled a lead rope.
"Ruby told me about the clinic," I said.
