Seth closed his eyes and pictured Ryan’s smile, the dimples that appeared deep in her cheeks, the way her midnight hair caught the sunlight, making it appear streaked with midnight blue. She would never trade her place for his home in Montana. Could he really upend everything, chase a life down south and abandon the only place where every fence post and creek bend held a memory?
He snapped the footrest closed with a decisive click, stood, and strode from the living room into the kitchen where hesnagged his sweat-stained Stetson from the peg by the door, settled it low on his forehead, and stepped outside. The sun had bowed out hours ago, leaving the ranch under a velvet sky.
Heading toward the weathered barn, he paused on the gravel drive, boots crunching to stillness. The night air was crisp, scented with fresh-cut hay, distant pine, and the earthy musk of horses. Stars burned overhead, countless pinpricks of light shimmering like diamonds scattered across black silk, more stars than Ryan would ever see through the city’s bright lights in California.
“Seth?”
He paused, the soft thud of his boots on packed earth echoing in the still night. Beyond him, the low-slung barn’s interior glowed amber from the doorway. Gravel crunched under Cull’s boots as he stepped into view, shoulders back, silhouette sharp against the warm pool of light.
Seth straightened. “Cull, what are you doing out here?”
Cull leaned casually against the barn’s rough-hewn frame, arms crossed over his chest, one hip cocked as he leaned against the open door. “Had to shoe Thunder,” he said, nodding toward a faint whinny drifting from the stalls. The light cast dancing shadows across his Stetson. “I was packing up to call it a night when I saw you meandering around.” His voice was low but firm, a question wrapped in concern. “What’s on your mind?”
Seth shrugged, shoulders slumping as a cool breeze whispered through the grass at the fence line. “Just needed to get out of that damn house for a bit.”
Cull shook his head. He exhaled a visible puff in the chill air. “I was surprised to see her today.”
“She said she wanted to tell you all goodbye.” Seth’s voice caught on the last words.
“And you? Did she tell you goodbye?” Cull’s eyebrows rose, the question more hopeful than accusation.
Seth paused, then shook his head. “No.”
He walked over to the corral fence, where the old oak rails were chipped and smooth from years of restless horse leaning. Resting his forearms on the top rail, he watched the Paint mare drift across the dusty paddock under a pale wash of moonlight. Cull fell in beside him, their boots scuffing the dirt.
“I thought she left.” Cull’s voice was soft, as if afraid to shatter the quiet.
“Yeah, me too. But she said she pushed her flight back so she could see you guys.” Seth removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair, stiff with dust, and replaced the hat.
“Why didn’t she let you know before she showed up?”
“She knew I’d tell her not to come out here,” Seth admitted, shoulders hitching. He pushed off the rail and met Cull’s gaze. “Cull, if I packed up and moved to California to be with her… could you run this place?” His voice dropped to a whisper, as if the horses in the stalls might overhear and fret.
Cull frowned. “Run this place? What are you talking about?”
“If I went to her… could you handle growing feed for Ash?” Seth fiddled with the railing’s chipped paint, anxious.
“Are you actually planning on moving?” Cull asked slowly.
Seth’s chest tightened. “I don’t know, Cull. I’m in love with her.”
“I know,” Cull said, his tone steady but warm. “She’s in love with you too.”
Seth studied his friend’s face, lit by flickering light and shadow. “I know. She told me.”
“She told you? When?” Cull shook his head.
“When she left today. She said she wouldn’t tell me goodbye, but she’d tell me she loved me.”
“I could see it every time she looked at you. Hell, any time you were a prick to her, you hurt her, but I could still see it.”
Seth ran both hands along the grain of the fence rail. “It was a defense mechanism. If I didn’t act like that, I’d have been dragging her off to bed every time she walked into a room.”
“Which you did anyway.” Cull leaned back against the rail; one foot braced on the bottom rung. “This is your home, Seth. Could you really give this up? I mean, I’d keep it going for you, sure, but these fields, these fences, this land… they’re yours.”
Seth tipped his head, stifling a sigh. The night air smelled of hay, horse sweat, and earth. He watched a lone cricket slip across a fence post’s rough surface. “I’m just trying to figure things out,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I can train horses anywhere, but… Ash came to me for help, and I can’t just walk away. If I do decide to go to California, I want to know this place still plants feed for him.”
Cull’s breath puffed white in the moonlight as he studied Seth. “I don’t like the idea of you leaving. You built this land. It’s in your blood. I think it’d be a mistake, but I get it. Ultimately, it’s not my place to run it. It’s yours.”
