Page 121 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. “Done with the circuit?”

He nodded. His fingers tightened around mine as if bracing himself. “I want this land to be ours. I don’t want to be like him—gone all the time, missing things, not showing up when it matters.”

“But you wouldn’t be,” I whispered. “Just because you’re gone every weekend doesn’t mean we can’t work. We’re stronger than that. I don’t want to be the reason you give up your dreams.”

He turned then, amber eyes locking onto mine, holding me steady with the weight of his gaze. “I’m tired, Fable. I loved bull riding so much, but . . .” He swallowed thickly. “I’ve had a good run. I’ve won enough buckles. I want to give the rope to someone like Dalton, someone who still loves it. I want something different now. Something more.”

I nodded slowly, the ache in his words pulling at something deep within me. “I know what it feels like to want a change,” I murmured, my gaze drifting out toward the fields that stretched beneath the darkening sky. The distant sound of horses echoed softly in the air. “That’s why I’m here.”

“To get away from your ex?”

I nodded again, my throat tightening as the memories stirred beneath my ribs. He didn’t know everything—the engagement, the heartbreak, the way Mike hurt me emotionally. This wasn’t the time to explain.

“Yeah.” The word caught in my throat.

Beau said nothing for a moment, just looked out at the fields with a gaze that seemed to see more than grass and fences. Finally, he exhaled.

“How’d your dad take it?” I asked gently.

Beau’s lips pressed together as if weighing the memory before speaking. “Better than I thought he would. I think . . . I think he understood more than I expected. Told me he was proud of me. For the first time in a long time, it felt like we saw eye to eye.”

My heart swelled at the quiet emotion laced in his voice. “I’m proud of you too, Beau,” I whispered.

He sighed, eyes locked on the horizon, where the stars were fully out and twinkling.

“When I was about six, Mom used to take me to this little creek behind the house. Just the two of us.” His lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’d run through the water while she sat on this big rock with her feet in the stream. She’d laugh—God, that laugh . . . like it could make the whole world stop and listen.” His grip on my hand tightened slightly. “One time, I caught this tiny fish with my bare hands. It was flopping all over, and I was so damn proud. I showed her, and instead of telling me to let it go right away, she knelt down, cupped her hands over mine, and said, ‘You’ve got to be gentle, baby. Even when you’re proud, you’ve still got to be kind.’ ” Beau chuckled quietly. “I let that fish go, and she kissed my cheek and told me that kindness would always matter more than strength. I didn’t get it then, but . . . I do now.”

Without thinking, I stood and moved toward him, stepping between his knees and lowering myself into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me instantly, pulling me in like I was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

As he held me, his breath was ragged against my shoulder and his chest began to shake. The hot drop of a tear hit my neck, then another. His hands fisted the fabric of my shirt as if afraid I might disappear if he let go.

“I miss her so damn much,” he choked out, his voice cracking beneath the weight of all the years he’d carried this alone.

“I know,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know, baby.”

I held him as he broke, as years of grief and loneliness poured out in silent sobs. I didn’t try to fix it, didn’t offer empty words of comfort. I simply held him the way I’d wished someone had held me when my world had shattered.

Because this was what love looked like. Not grand gestures or perfect words, but holding each other in the moments that hurt the most.

The thought struck me so suddenly that it stole the air from my lungs.

Love.

God, I might be in love with him.

Falling in love meant risking everything—my heart, my peace, my carefully built walls. But as Beau held onto me like I was his only safe place in the world, I realized I wasn’t afraid.

Not with him.

“I’m so embarrassed.” He pulled away slowly, but I cupped his cheeks and searched his gaze.

“Never be embarrassed about showing your emotions to me,” I whispered. “Come on,” I murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Let’s go to bed.”

He nodded, his grip tightening briefly around my waist. For the times when he’d been my strength, it was my turn to take care of him.

Sliding off his lap, I stood and offered my hand. He took it without hesitation, his calloused fingers rough but familiar against mine. We moved through the house in silence, the creak of the stairs beneath our feet the only sound.

Upstairs, I led him into the room, the faint moonlight filtering through the window casting shadows across the walls. Without a word, I pulled back the covers and helped him sit on the edge of the bed.