It took her a moment to realize he was referring to himself.
For the first time since everything had fallen apart, being with him felt almost normal. It wasn’t the easy companionship they'd shared before, but close enough to remind her what she'd been missing—and to make her wonder if, maybe, they could find their way back.
The conversation drifted from there, touching on safe subjects neither of them had to think too hard about. She admitted she'd never realized there was a difference between hay and straw until Tucker had patiently explained it to her.
Seth told her that the crew had started setting up the fairgrounds for next week's Rodeo Bonanza and promised she'd seen nothing quite like it. Shylo mentioned she'd offered to take a few shifts at the Bar None's booth during the event. Before long, they were laughing over Ashley and Sassy, both agreeing it was impossible to tell whether the toddler or the puppy was leading the other into mischief these days.
It wasn't the effortless back-and-forth they'd once shared.
Not yet.
But it was close and more than she'd dared hope for when she'd ridden Daisy out of the corral a short time ago.
The trail curved gently to the left before opening into a thinner stand of trees. Sunlight spilled across the path ahead, bright enough that she had to squint.
Seth slowed Maple to a stop, and Shylo did the same. Her gaze drifted past the trees to the narrow stream, then the small glade on the other side, and she recognized the spot instantly.
It was where they'd shared their first kiss.
Before she could find the words to ask why they were there, Seth swung out of the saddle. He draped the horse’s reins over a low branch, then crossed to Daisy and held out a hand.
“Need some help?”
Not really, but she didn’t decline his offer. She slipped her fingers into his, expecting him to let go the moment her boots touched the ground.
He didn't.
Their hands remained linked as he led her toward the stream, his thumb resting lightly against the back of hers as though it belonged there. Neither of them acknowledged it or seemed in any hurry to break the contact.
Shylo certainly wasn't.
The gentle rush of water grew louder with every step, blending with birdsong drifting through the trees and the lazy chirp of cicadas farther out in the summer heat. Beneath the canopy, the air remained comfortably cool while bright July sunlight poured into the glade beyond the stream.
Seth guided her to a broad, weathered boulder beside the stream. Its flat surface was large enough for them both to sit. Moss clung to one side, and generations of flowing water had rounded its edges smooth.
Only after they sat did he let go of her hand.
She missed the contact immediately.
He removed his cowboy hat and set it beside him before running a hand through his hair. A few tousled strands fell back across his forehead. She longed to reach out and smooth them into place, but kept her hands to herself.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The stream gurgled over smooth stones, carrying tiny ripples downstream while a dragonfly skimmed across the surface before disappearing into the trees.
Shylo shifted her gaze toward him. “What are we doing here?”
He kept his eyes on the water for another second before answering. “I wanted to apologize.”
She gaped, then shook her head. “For what? If anyone needs to apologize, it's me.”
He turned to face her. “No. You already did. I just refused to listen.”
Another protest was on the tip of her tongue, but he lifted a hand, silently asking for a chance to finish.
“I've spent the last two weeks thinking about everything.” He let out a slow breath. “At first, all I could think about was that you'd lied to me. That's all I focused on.”
She swallowed hard, but let him continue.
“But after Shane...” He huffed out a small laugh. “Well, after Shane got my head out of my ass last night, I finally stopped thinking about how it affected me and started thinking about what it must've been like for you.”
