It was beautiful and lonely all at once.
By the time I reached the porch, the headlights were clearer. Two steady beams cut through the falling snow. I stepped under the overhang, brushing frost from my collar, and waited.
The shape of the vehicle came into view: A small, familiar car. My chest tightened.
Tanner.
He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.
I leaned against the post, watching as his car crept up the drive. The tires made soft, muffled sounds against the snow. He parked near the fence, engine idling for a few seconds before it cut off. Then silence again.
For a moment, I didn’t move. Just stood there, heart thudding like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
It definitely felt that way even though this was as much my home as anyone else’s.
Tanner had been around the ranch for years. He was a lawyer, then a friend, and finally a quiet miracle worker.Everyone spoke highly of him. He’d helped Jackson with his custody case years ago, and after that, it seemed like he’d just become part of the family. Whenever there was trouble, Tanner was the one people called.
But I’d always seen something more when I looked at him.
The first time we met, he’d offered me a handshake that was too soft, his smile just shy of nervous. He had the kind of face that made you want to trust him. He lit from within somehow. His laugh had been quick and bright, and for a moment, I’d forgotten how heavy I’d felt that day.
Since then, I’d seen him here and there on market days, at ranch events, and during the holidays. Always surrounded by people, but never really with anyone. There was a light in him that drew people close, but also a distance, like he kept part of himself tucked away.
And every time he was near, something in me stirred.
I told myself it was admiration. Gratitude, even. But as the months went by, I stopped believing that lie. It wasn’t just gratitude.
It was longing. A slow, steady ache I tried not to name.
He wasn’t mine to want.
Sadly, the heart doesn’t listen to reason.
I watched as he climbed out of the car, pulling his coat tight around his shoulders. Snow clung to his hair, silvering the edges of it. His movements were careful, deliberate, like he was holding himself together through sheer will.
My chest tightened again, and something unspoken moved through me. Recognition, maybe. Or hope.
What are you doing here, Tanner?
The question burned at the back of my throat, but I didn’t call out. I just stood there, letting the wind carry the moment.
It struck me then how strange life could be. Two years ago, I couldn’t imagine feeling this again. This sharp awareness of another person. This quiet ache in the chest.
I’d thought that part of me was gone forever.
Yet here I was, standing in the snow, heart pounding like a fool, watching headlights fade behind him.
Maybe Wren had been right. Maybe love didn’t end. Maybe it just changed shape as it waited for us to be ready again.
As Tanner shut the car door, he paused, glancing up toward the house. His breath fogged in the air, his shoulders lifted with a shiver. There was something tentative in the way he moved, like he wasn’t sure if he should knock or turn around and drive away.
I took a step forward before I could think better of it. My boots crunched in the snow, breaking the silence. He turned toward the sound, eyes catching mine across the distance.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The wind moved between us, gentle but sharp, carrying the faint sound of the barn door creaking in the distance.
The look on his face… God, it did something to me.
He looked tired. Worn in a way that went deeper than lack of sleep. There was a weight in his eyes I hadn’t seen before, and it made me want to close the space between us, to offer warmth, comfort.
