We ride home as the stars appear overhead, the same ones from all those years ago when I told myself forgetting him was possible. The same stars from not too long ago when I stood on Cabin 5's porch and tried to convince myself that heading back was the right choice.
At the barn, Cash helps me dismount, and we work together untacking the horses in a familiar routine. His hands brush mine when we reach for the same gear. We share the comfortable silence of two people who've learned each other's rhythms.
As we walk toward our house, his arm settles around my waist, and I lean into him. The porch light glows warm through the darkness, and through the window, I can see the evidence of our life together. The hanging flower basket on the porch. Our clothes drying on the line.
I stop on the porch and turn back to look at the ranch, at the guest cabins with lights burning yellow. This is the ridge where truth lives. Tomorrow, Andrea will wake to her first morning ride. Her guide will knock on her cabin door with coffee, and the cycle will begin again with another woman learning she's worthmore than her productivity. It’s another second chance, more proof that choosing yourself isn't selfish.
"I'm staying forever this time," I whisper. I’ve said it so much that it’s become an inside joke between us.
"Good." He pulls me closer, his chin resting on top of my head. "Because I'm never letting you go."
And I know with a certainty that lives in my bones instead of my head that this, right here between us, is exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Not because I stopped running.
But because I finally found home. In this place. In this man. In myself.
Forever isn't a promise. It's a choice you make every morning when you wake up and decide to stay.
And I'm staying.
For good.
Chapter ten
Bonus Epilogue - Sloane - A Year Later
The realtor's boots crunch on the gravel with each step, but my boots stay planted firm on the ridge overlooking three hundred acres of raw Texas land. Mesquite and live oak stretch toward the horizon, limestone outcroppings catching the afternoon sun, and the air smells like possibility mixed with dust and sage.
Linda flips through her folder, mentioning compromised fencing and a few errant structural issues, but calculations are already running. The land is a former dude ranch vacation property that went bankrupt a few years ago, but everything’s still solid. I envision our guest cabins spread across the southern pasture. The main lodge sits near the access road for easy check-in. A therapy barn and round pens lie closer to the ridge, where the view quiets something restless in your bones. The numbers map to the same calculations once reserved for quarterlyreports, except now they mean lives changed rather than profits maximized.
Cash stands nearby. He hasn't said a word since we arrived, just follows us at a respectful distance while Linda and I walk the property. His presence is a solid pressure against my spine, grounding without crowding, and when a glance back catches his gaze tracking my movements, butterflies fill my stomach.
Linda continues her pitch about the asking price and condition concerns. "Don't you want to discuss it with—" Her gaze flicks to Cash.
"We'll take it." The words are the most certain I’ve been in days. "Full asking price. Sixty-day close."
Linda's eyebrows climb, but Cash's voice carries across the space between us before she can finish the question. The land is a steal, and we don’t want to lose it. "If Sloane says we're buying it, we're buying it."
Fierce pride flares behind my ribs. A year ago, I’d have needed someone’s approval, hedging and qualifying every decision. Now there's just the pull of my phone from my pocket and a few taps to look at the calendar app. My schedule is clear, but it’s an old habit I can’t shake.
Linda recovers quickly, making notes. "You'll want an inspection—"
"I can have a team here tomorrow morning. If everything goes well, our attorney will send the offer letter by the end of the day. We'll coordinate with our contractor for the build-out timeline and start permitting during escrow." The professional competence slides over me like a second skin, except it doesn't feel like armor anymore. Its purpose, not performance, building something that matters instead of maintaining something that's killing you.
Cash moves closer. His palm settles against my lower back, the touch both possessive and grounding, thumb stroking oncethrough my shirt before going still. Looking up finds hunger darkening his expression, his jaw tight, and gaze locked on my mouth.
Linda clears her throat. "I'll send over the contract when I get back to my office." We say our goodbyes, and she heads toward her car. And then we're alone on the ridge with three hundred acres of future spreading out below us.
"What?"
He doesn't answer immediately, just cups my face with both palms and tilts my head back until meeting his gaze becomes unavoidable. His eyes shine, breath coming faster than the walk up the ridge warrants, and the muscle in his jaw jumps when my palm presses flat against his chest to count his hammering heartbeat.
"Watching you own your life is the sexiest thing I've ever seen." His voice sends a flush of heat through my chest. "The way you handled that negotiation. The certainty in your voice. Knowing exactly what you want and taking it."
Blood rushes to my face and lower, heat blooming in my pussy at the raw want in his expression. His thumb traces my lower lip.
"Cash—"
