No.
I didn’t have time for this.
I had a ranch on the edge of collapse, a stack of debt so high I couldn’t see over it, and a past relationship I hadn’t fully escaped. Wanting someone, wanting him, was the last thing I should let myself do.
By the time I hit the gravel of my lane, the softness hardened into something sharper. Anger mostly. At myself. At him. At Ray for leaving me this mess. At the world for handing me everything at once.
I was still stewing in it when I noticed the gate latch hanging open.
Not loose-from-wind open, or something the livestock opened. It was deliberate.
I parked and stepped out slowly, eyes scanning the yard.
Another detail hit next, the barn door cracked wide, too wide for the breeze drifting across the foothills. The ground carried prints, boot treads I didn’t recognize, edges sharp and fresh.
The unease slid from my stomach up into my chest.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
I walked toward the barn, drawn forward and repelled at the same time. Sunlight hit the dust motes floating in the doorway, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone too still, like even the air was holding its breath.
“Ray,” I whispered, barely audible. “What did you leave behind?”
No answer came.
My own fear echoed back at me from the dim inside of the barn.
I stood there for a long moment, arms wrapped around myself, the afternoon heat pressing against my back, the cool of the barn brushing my face.
Everything felt wrong.
Everything felt unsettled.
And despite every part of me insisting I didn’t need him?—
The first name that rose in my throat was Wyatt.
I shoved it down, walked to the house, locked the door and closed the blinds.
And that night, when the house was quiet, and the fear finally dissolved into loneliness, I did the one thing I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do.
I imagined him.
The bedroom felt too big that night.
Too quiet.
Too hollow around the edges.
I lay on my back in the dark, the sheet warm against my legs, the window cracked open enough for the breeze to carry in the smell of cut grass and the distant sound of cattle shifting somewhere beyond the tree line.
But all I could think about was the booth.
His thigh against mine.
His breath brushing the side of my cheek when he leaned in to pass me the salt.
