But no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps wandering back to last night. To them.
Clint, with that quiet intensity in his eyes. The way he looks at me, like there’s a thousand things he wants to say, but he’s waiting for me to make the first move. His presence lingers in my thoughts, a promise I’m not sure I’m ready to keep.
Sawyer, with his calm, thoughtful way of speaking. He listens. Really listens. It’s such a rare gift, and it makes me feel seen in a way that’s almost foreign to me. When I’m around him, I can breathe a little easier, and it feels like maybe the weight I’ve been carrying isn’t all mine to bear.
And then there’s Reid, always so full of life, so effortlessly charming. His laugh is infectious, his energy impossible to ignore. There’s something about the way he touches me, alwaysjust a little playful, daring me to join him in whatever adventure he’s got planned next.
It’s exciting, thrilling, and… terrifying.
I press my pencil a little too hard into the paper, the tip scraping the surface with a squeak. The bird’s wing takes on a jagged shape, nothing like I intended, and I let out a sigh.
“Charlie,” I call softly, catching in the quiet room. “Can you come sit with me for a minute?”
Charlie looks up from his blocks, his eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s up, Mom?”
I smile at him, motioning for him to come over. He hops off the floor and climbs onto the couch beside me, his small body settling next to mine.
His energy is boundless, but when he’s close, there’s a calming effect.
I show him my sketch. “What do you think? Does it look like a bird to you?”
Charlie studies it, furrowing his brow in that serious way he gets when he’s really concentrating.
Finally, he grins. “It looks like a bird to me. But, um…” He hesitates, tapping his finger against the paper. “It needs to be flying.”
I laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Flying, huh? You’re right. It does.”
Charlie leans forward, his little fingers brushing the edge of the sketchbook. “Mom, are we going to live here for real?”
I swallow, my heart tugging. The thought of Charlie dreaming so big, of wanting a future here, of maybe even calling Colter Creek home, warms me, but it also brings a rush of uncertainty.
Can I really build that kind of future here, with Clint, and Sawyer, and Reid? Can we make it work?
“Maybe we can,” I murmur, more to myself than to Charlie. “If that’s what you really want.”
He smiles at me, his wide eyes full of hope and excitement. “I think it would be awesome, Mom.”
The birds begin to take flight on the page, their wings lifting upwards. And finally, I feel something close to peace.
I’m starting to take flight, too—one cautious moment at a time.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sawyer
“What do you think about this?”Clint asks me as he peers over the wooden bed we’ve been working on for the past few days. “Do you think Charlie will like it?”
I glance up from the hammer in my hand, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. The house is quieter than usual today, just the steady rhythm of our work filling the air.
It feels… good. Different, but good.
I study the bed, taking in the craftsmanship. The wood is a dark oak, polished smooth, with a rustic charm that fits the ranch’s vibe.
It’s the kind of thing that could make a kid feel they’re getting their own little world.
“Charlie will love it,” I say, offering Clint a quick nod. “He’ll feel like a cowboy living here. And I have to say, the horse carved into the side… genius.”
Clint grins, but it’s the kind of grin that says he knows exactly how much thought went into this. He’s proud of it, even if he won’t say it out loud.
