The crunch of his boots fades as he walks away. Time drags—minutes feel like hours when you’re sitting all alone with your thoughts and a racing pulse. I’m just about to peek when I hear him again, footsteps returning, slower this time.
The driver’s-side door opens. He slides into the seat beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him through the space between us. Even before he speaks, I know it’s him.
“Hold out your arms,” Wesley murmurs, his voice low and smooth.
I could pick his voice out of a crowd. I already do. It doesn’t matter if I’m sweeping stalls or hauling feed buckets—if he’snearby, Ifeelit. Like some invisible thread tightening, tugging my attention until I’ve found him.
I hold out my arms.
Something warm and soft is placed gently against my chest.
“Okay,” he says. “You can open your eyes.”
I do—and instantly fall in love.
A tiny speckled puppy blinks up at me, all oversized ears and solemn little eyes.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Is this real life?”
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. All my worries and concerns melt away as I cradle her closer.
The world narrows instantly, my problems shrinking down to something manageable and quiet as I cradle her closer. She lets out a tiny sigh and settles into my lap, warm and real and utterly perfect.
When I look up, Wesley is watching me with a soft expression.
“Do you want to name her?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, still a little stunned. “Yeah. Okay.”
The drive back is quiet—the good kind. The kind that doesn’t demand to be filled with awkward confessions of childhood trauma or forced small talk. The few stops we make are to let the puppy out for potty breaks and to stretch her tiny legs.
She’s been curled in my lap for most of the ride, a warm little cinnamon roll of fur.
“I’ve got a name,” I say as we turn onto the ranch.
Wesley slows to a stop in his usual spot in front of the barn, reaching across the seat to pet the sleepy girl on my lap.
“Yeah?” he asks. “Let’s hear it.”
“Iris.”
I watch his face when I say it, trying to gauge his reaction. There’s a tiny, nearly insignificant flicker in his eyes before a slow smile pulls at his lips.
“I think that’s perfect for her.”
The sun is low now, casting everything in gold. We’re angled toward each other without realizing it, knees nearly touching. It’s so quiet and we’re so close, I can hear every exhale of his breath.
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering, his fingers flexing against his thigh.
Too long to be nothing.
Not long enough to be something.
I don’t move. Neither does he.
There’s a hum under my skin, settling into my bones. A pull that feels reckless and unfamiliar, like gravity has quietly recalibrated itself.
And then—
