Page 53 of More Than This Land

Concrete boots would be easier to move than his own feet. They held him there, stone-solid, until her taillights disappeared.

Then finally managed to climb into his truck but didn’t have the energy to leave, so he sat in the empty lot with both hands on the wheel and sorrow building in his chest that had nowhere to go.

Drive safe.

He’d spent three weeks developing the courage to say something real and he spouted a weather advisory. Good grief.

Luke started the engine and pulled out of the lot. The truck’s headlights swept across the empty road, and he drove with the window down despite the cold because he needed the air to dislodge the pressure behind his ribs.

He’d been about to tell her to stay. No. Not tell her. He’d been about to beg her. It built in his heart a wave that almost drowned him, and then his need for control kicked in, rerouting the words before they reached air. It kept him safe. And alone.

His grandfather would have been disgusted.

The thought hit with almost the same force as his own regret. He didn’t try to soften it.

Claire scared him.

She showed him what could be possible if he’d open up, but fear of her rejection ensured his silence. What if he asked her to stay, and she chose Billings anyway?

If she chose Billings before he asked, that was her decision about her life and her career and her future.

But if he asked and she still chose Billings, that was a verdict. About him. About what this thing between them was worth against the weight of everything she’d built before she came back here. About whether the man he was becoming was enough to make someone rearrange her entire life.

Who in their right mind would upend their life like that? If the roles were reversed, wouldn’t he be tearing out of town at the first opportunity?

Every breath caught in the wind whipping in through the open window. He’d never known a broken heart made noise, but his did with every thump of protest.

The one place he’d learned to release control, the one area where he’d genuinely practiced trusting God with results, had never included his own heart.

He’d opened his hands around the ranch, the community relationships, the vendor partnerships, and the guest ranch expansion. Add in his brothers’ opinions and his father’s health and the slow work of rebuilding what he’d damaged, and he’d done quite a lot of growing since the day he walked into his office and found Claire sitting there.

But not enough. Not anywhere near enough.

The ranch house came up on the right, lit against the dark. Luke pulled in, cut the engine, and sat.

His head dropped back against the headrest.

The problem with loving someone stubborn was that he couldn’t reason his way out of it. Maybe he shouldn’t run mental gymnastics to admit he loved her. Why try to hide the truth from himself? The cost-benefit analysis was clear: risk the ask, face the answer, accept the result. Or maintain the distance, preserve the ambiguity, and spend the rest of his life wondering what he might have done differently.

Neither option satisfied him.

A groan sent his head forward thudding against the steering wheel. He rocked it side to side, which brought the entire front yard and house into view.

Caleb’s truck sat in its usual spot. Graham’s too. Light burned in the living room and spread through the window onto the flower beds out front.

Enough rolling around in pity.

He climbed out of the truck.

Caleb sat in the living room, holding a book with a cracked spine in front of his face. His eyes didn’t move, which meant he wasn’t reading as much as just staring at the page. He looked up when Luke came through and set the book with his pages splayed across the arm of the chair.

“Mom’ll hang you by your toenails for that.” He sat in the chair across from his brother and tried to relax.

Being with family was supposed to help.

Caleb shrugged. “It’s my book, not hers.” But he picked it up, found a bookmark in the jar on the bookshelf beside him, and marked his spot.

Luke took off his hat and tossed it onto the closest shelf, where it spun in a circle before coming to rest beside Dad’s. “Claire’s looking at office space in Billings.”