What has passed between us was never meant to bear the weight we have placed upon it. I do not say that lightly, nor without understanding what you have entrusted to me. The knowledge that there is now a life depending upon decisions we cannot undo has not been absent from my thoughts, and I cannot be the man who brings further harm to your name or mine.
You must think carefully on the path before you. The offer that has been made to you is a sound one, and I would see you settled where you are protected from talk and from consequence.
I will not pretend this is easy, nor that I have come to this conclusion without struggle. But I believe it to be the right course, however little comfort that provides.
What we shared will remain with me, though it must remain unspoken.
—H.M.
I sat down hard in the chair, the letter still in my hand. I read it again. Then a third time, because the words didn’t make sense the first two passes through.
The knowledge that there is now a life depending upon decisions we cannot undo has not been absent from my thoughts, and I cannot be the man who brings further harm to your name or mine.
The memory of Waverly's voice washed over me immediately. I’d been standing by the fence, watching her cool down after her winning run. I'm done letting you decide I'm worth having in private but not in public.
I’d done the same thing to her. Different century, but the same pattern.
I looked at the letters spread across the table. They were evidence of something that had existed only in hidden spaces. Meetings no one knew about. Feelings that couldn't be acknowledged. A relationship that lived entirely in the gaps between what was expected and what was real.
The same way I'd treated Waverly.
I’d confined everything between us to the cabin. Made excuses about evaluating horses while I drove her to places where nobody would ask questions. Every time I'd kissed her it had been somewhere no one could see, then I’d turned away from her when we were around others. I’d watched her dance with another man, let him put his hands on her, while I’d stood there, then let her walk away rather than say a single damn word that mattered in front of people who'd remember it.
I'd told myself it was about the feud. About protecting the Hollister name, maintaining boundaries, keeping things from getting complicated in ways I couldn't control. But sitting here with these letters—with proof that someone else had made the same choice a lifetime ago—the excuses felt more fragile than the yellowed paper in my hands.
H.M. Kincaid had chosen the feud over the woman he loved. He’d chosen his reputation over truth, safety over risk, the known weight of family expectations over the uncertain future of standing with someone people said he shouldn't want. And he'd lost her.
I didn't know how their story ended. Whether Eleanor had married someone else or moved away. The letters didn't say. But the last one told me enough. She'd asked him to choose, and he hadn't. Not in the way that mattered.
I'd done the same fucking thing. Stood at the community center and said nothing while Winslow had run his mouth. I’d offered professional small talk when Waverly had given me the chance to claim what we were in front of the whole town. I’d shown up at her competition but only to evaluate her horse, keeping everything hidden behind the excuse of work. Every time it counted, I'd stepped back. Chosen silence over risk. Protected something that was already breaking under the weight of staying secret.
You want me—I know you do—but only in ways that don't challenge the lines you've drawn.
Waverly’s words burned now, sitting in this cabin that had held nothing but secrets. Everything between us had existed only because no one else knew about it. I'd brought her here because it was safe…private… controllable. That was the same reason H.M. had met Eleanor in canyons and back trails where their families wouldn't find them.
And Waverly had left these letters here for me to find. Not to punish me. That wasn't her style. But to show me what I was doing. What I'd been doing from the start, dressing it up as protecting her when really, I'd been protecting myself from having to choose.
The chair scraped loudly on the wooden planks as I stood. I gathered the letters carefully, placed them back in the box, and closed the lid. Then I left it on the table where she'd put it. This wasn't my history to keep. It belonged to both families and hiding it would just be one more thing kept secret because it was easier than facing it.
I walked outside. Juniper raised her head as I approached, patient as always. I untied her reins and swung into the saddle, turning her back toward the main trail.
Movement caught my eye before we reached the trees. Hades stood on the ridge above the cabin, his dark coat standing out against the golden aspen behind him. And next to him, close enough their shoulders nearly touched, stood Persephone, Mack's sled dog, the one Hades had chosen despite every practical reason he shouldn't have.
They didn't hide. Didn't slink around in shadows or meet in places where no one would see them. Hades had walked right into town with her, laid down outside the mercantile with Persephone at his side, let the whole town see exactly what he'd chosen. Even the damn wolf had more courage than I did.
I watched them for a long moment. Neither moved. They just stood there together, visible to anyone who looked, and didn't apologize for it.
I turned Juniper toward home. But the route I took didn't lead back to the barn. It led toward town.
CHAPTER 10
WAVERLY
Ace's Place hummed louder than usual tonight. Music filled the corners where conversation usually settled and couples moved across the worn floor under lights that had probably been dim since before I was born. I hadn't come looking for anything specific, just a drink. I needed a moment to exist somewhere familiar without the weight of everything that had shifted in the past few weeks pressing down on my shoulders.
But the second I stepped inside, I felt it. The attention hit me differently than before. It wasn’t the sharp-edged curiosity that had followed me the first time I'd walked in here with the Kincaid name hanging around my neck like something I hadn't earned. This was quieter. It felt like recognition instead of judgment. I got a few nods from ranchers leaning against the bar. Tamsin sat near the bar and made a couple of comments about my run at the jackpot, congratulating me on my winning time. It seemed like I'd proven something that needed proving.
I moved through the room without hesitation, ordering a whiskey from the bartender who didn't ask what kind anymore, just poured the Devil’s Dance neat the way I liked it. I found a spot at the far end of the bar where I could watch the room without being in the center of it. The music spilled from the speakers, familiar enough to relax into.
