I foundher in the barn at dusk.
Cassiopeia’s stall. Of course. The place Rose went when the world was too much, when she needed something warm and steady and incapable of lying to her.
She was brushing Cassie’s coat in long, slow strokes. The barn was golden with the last of the daylight, dust motes floating in the angled beams, and she looked so beautiful and so broken that it physically hurt to breathe.
“Rose.”
“Not now.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Her hand stopped mid-stroke. She didn’t turn around.
“The team is packing tonight. Dex booked flights out of Denver in the morning. I wanted to tell you myself.”
Silence. Just the sound of Cassie shifting her weight and the barn settling.
“Good,” Rose said quietly. “That’s... good.”
“Is it?”
She turned around then, and her face nearly destroyed me. Red-eyed. Jaw set. The look of someone holding themselves together through sheer willpower and nothing else.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t have this conversation.”
“Then just listen.” I took a step closer. “I love you. That’s not a negotiation or an offer or a rescue. It’s just the truth. I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you whether I’m here or in Scotland or on the other side of the world.”
“Graham—”
“And you were right about the distraction. Not because what we have isn’t real, it’s the most real thing in my life. But because you need to survive right now, and I need to let you.”
Her eyes filled. She blinked hard, jaw working.
“You might be right about Denise,” she said.
The words stopped me cold.
“I’ve suspected for days,” she whispered. “Maybe longer. The way she had every explanation ready. The way Taylor looked at her when I fired him. Things Hank said about her talking in town.” She shook her head. “But I can’t, Graham, I can’t process that right now. I can’t grieve her on top of everything else. So I’ve been pretending you’re wrong because it’s easier than accepting that my entire life is built on?—”
She stopped. Pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
I wanted to give her the proof. Concrete proof, the kind that would make the betrayal undeniable and actionable instead of this agonizing slow recognition.
I couldn’t. Not yet.
“I know. And you don’t have to deal with it now.” I kept my voice steady even though steady was the last thing I felt.
“I need you to go.” Her voice cracked wide open. “Not because I don’t—” She pressed her fist against her sternum. “Because you’re the one thing that hurts worse than everything else. Losing you feels as bad as losing the ranch. And I can’t afford to feel that right now.”
“I know.” My voice wasn’t steady anymore either.
“If I let myself love you, I’ll start hoping. And if I start hoping, I’ll break when it falls apart.”
“Rose—”
“Please.” Tears now, falling freely, and she didn’t wipe them away. “Please just go.”
I crossed the distance between us. She didn’t back away. I took her hands, both of them shaking, and lifted them to my mouth. Pressed my lips to her knuckles. Left them there for a long time.
