Tanner's lips twitched into a crooked smile. "Want me to help you find it?"
I shook my head, knowing that if he went back inside with me, it would be another hour or two before we left. I’d been putting off meeting up with my cousin and needed to stop by to see him in person and check on the gelding again before it got too late. "No, I've got it. You go on ahead."
“See you soon, Kincaid.” He leaned down and kissed me goodbye. It was the kind of kiss that made me want to drag him back inside, but I resisted.
Once he’d driven away, I stepped back into the cabin and flicked on the small lamp next to the old couch. Soft light spread across the worn rug and the rough-hewn table where my bag should have been.
It wasn't there. I scanned the room, catching sight of it half-hidden next to a chair by the window. As I leaned over to pick it up, my gaze snagged on something I’d never noticed before. There was a drawer under the narrow window ledge. The wood looked swollen, and it sat slightly ajar.
Curiosity got the better of me. I set my bag on the table and tugged the drawer open. Inside, I found an old wooden box. The wood had worn over time, and someone had secured the lid with a small lock.
I pulled it out to take a better look. Did Tanner even know this was here? The box was heavy and when I gently shook it, something rustled inside. I pulled a pin from my hair that I’d used to tame my bangs. The lock opened easily, and I slid the lid aside.
For a split second, my chest tightened with a tiny bit of remorse. Maybe it was best to leave the past in the past. But then I saw the bundle of letters inside, tied with a thin pink ribbon. The paper had yellowed over the years, and my heart skipped ahead a few beats while I wondered what secrets I might have uncovered.
I untied the string and picked up the envelope on top. A man’s name was written on the front in the type of elegant handwriting that had disappeared over the years. The pages slid from the envelope and I unfolded the letter, being careful with the fragile paper.
Dearest—
The word tugged at something inside me, and I immediately wondered about the sender and recipient. I skimmed the letter, my eyes tracking the inked lines, piecing together snippets of a conversation that had once mattered.
I see you in the wind over the fields, hear your laughter in the creek's song. The world feels dimmer without you by my side.
The name at the bottom made my chest tighten.
Yours,
H.M. Kincaid
My next breath stalled in my throat while a thousand unspoken questions crowded into my head. These were letters between a Kincaid and… I glanced at the front of the envelope again and verified the name… Eleanor Hollister.
It was like finding a photograph of a time I couldn't imagine, a connection history had buried under layers of the feud.
Feeling like I’d just trespassed somewhere I didn’t belong, I slid the letter back into the envelope and retied the string around the bundle. The weight of what I'd uncovered made my fingers shake. The cabin felt different somehow, the air thicker with the presence of those who’d gone before us, treading the same delicate line Tanner and I now seemed to be balancing on.
I replaced the box and drawer just as they were, already knowing I’d be back to read the rest.
With my bag in hand, I stepped back outside. The whispers of the past would wait, holding their breath like Tanner and I did, poised on the edge of something neither of us could quite name.
CHAPTER 7
TANNER
Music was already playing when I stepped into the community center, the kind of low, steady country rhythm that settled into the room and made everything feel easier than it actually was. Strings and steel guitar wound through the chatter, softening the edges of laughter and clinking bottles. Local music night had become a regular thing at the community center, and I’d actually attended a few times.
But tonight felt different the second I saw her. Waverly stood near the edge of the dance floor, talking to a couple of locals I recognized from town. She looked relaxed in a way I rarely saw outside the cabin, her shoulders loose, one hand gesturing as she spoke. She had on a simple dress, but it hugged her curves in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her dark auburn hair fell in loose waves instead of her usual braid, catching the light every time she turned her head.
She fit in here more than I expected, and maybe more than I wanted to admit. The realization sat wrong in my chest, heavy and uncomfortable, like something shifted out of place.
I kept my distance at first, staying in the shadows near the back wall. A few people nodded my way, mostly ranchers I'd worked with and neighbors who knew better than to ask questions. I returned the nods, accepted a beer from someone's cooler, and tried to look casual. But I couldn’t keep my attention from drifting back to her.
She laughed at something one of the women said, the sound carrying over the music just enough for me to catch it. It wasn't the breathless laugh I heard in the cabin, tangled up with my name. This was lighter, more carefree, and I liked it.
I took a long pull from the bottle, the beer bitter on my tongue.
A couple moved past me onto the dance floor, their boots scuffing against the worn planks in time with the music. Others followed, filling the space with movement that felt natural as breathing. The song shifted into something slower, the kind of song that let couples press close together.
Then someone asked her to dance. I recognized him as a ranch hand from one of the spreads north of town. Ethan was young, maybe mid-twenties, with an easy confidence that came from never questioning where he stood. He moved through the room like he owned a piece of it, nodding to folks as he passed, until he stopped in front of Waverly. He said something I couldn't hear, then held out his hand.
