Ryder exhaled. He looked lighter.
"I'm retiring," he said. "For real this time. No more bulls. No more eight seconds."
He reached out his good hand.
"I want the long ride, Elena. I want the slow ride. The one where I stay."
Elena looked at his hand. She thought about the last six years. She thought about the pain.
But then she thought about Leo in the tree. She thought about Ryder entering the freezing water without hesitation. She thought about the way he had looked at her in the round pen.
She took his hand.
"The long ride is hard, Ryder," she warned. "It's boring. It's work. It's fixing sinks and packing lunches."
"I know," Ryder smiled. It was the Stone grin, but softer. Weathered. "I think I can handle boring. As long as I get to do it with you."
Elena leaned down. She kissed his forehead. It was warm.
"Okay," she whispered. "But you're still fixing my sink."
II. The Family
August in Stone Creek was golden. The sun turned the dried grass into amber, and the light had a hazy, dreamlike quality.
Ryder stood in the center of the round pen.
He wasn't on crutches anymore. He was walking with a cane—a sturdy piece of hickory that Cole had carved for him. He leaned on it, watching the boy on the pony.
Leo was wearing his red boots, but he had traded the overalls for jeans and a proper button-down shirt. He sat onBiscuit, the ranch's oldest, bomb-proof pony.
"Heels down," Ryder called out. "Chin up. Look where you're going, not where you are."
Leo frowned in concentration. "Like this, Dad?"
Dad.
The word still hit Ryder like a physical shock. Every time. It was better than any gold buckle. It was better than any adrenaline rush.
"Perfect," Ryder said. "Now, ask him to walk. Squeeze with your calves. Don't kick."
Leo squeezed. Biscuit took a slow, lumbering step forward.
"I'm doing it!" Leo shouted. "I'm riding!"
Ryder grinned. "You're doing it, cowboy."
He looked toward the fence.
Elena was leaning on the rail. She was wearing a sundress. She was smiling.
Next to her, Cole and Maya stood arm-in-arm. Maya was visibly pregnant now, her hand resting on her stomach. The next generation of Stones was already on the way.
Ryder looked at his family.
He looked at the scar on his leg. It ached when the weather changed. He would never run again. He would never ride a bull again.
But he was standing on his own dirt. He was watching his son ride. He was coming home to a woman who loved him, not for what he could win, but for who he was.
