Page 42 of Ethan

She tilted her head. “Really? What changed your mind?”

“I realized I was better with horses than I was with the science behind them.” He turned the glass slowly on the table. “Once I started competing, I knew I wanted to train one day. Once I figured that out everything came together.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No.” He said it without hesitation. “You?”

“Regret what?”

“Your path. The way things went.”

She was quiet for a moment. “No. The hard parts got me here.” She looked at him steadily. “I don’t regret any of it.”

He held her gaze across the table and said nothing. He waited.

“That’s not true,” she whispered. “I regret that I didn’t have parents who wanted me, but I can’t change that.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah, me too, but my grandmother was the mother I didn’t have. She was a wonderful woman.”

“You loved her a lot, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. Are your grandparents living?”

“No, neither side. It was my father’s great-grandparents who bought the land, and when they passed away, it was handed down to the next generation. My father was an only child. He was devastated when he almost lost it. Being in the family for generations, he didn’t want it to end with him.”

“So how long have you had your part?”

“Since I was twenty-two. Eighteen years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Naomi tilted her head. “Why aren’t you married?”

“Why aren’t you?” He threw back.

“I was. As I told Serena, for about a minute. My training took a lot of time and then traveling to the competitions.” She sighed. “It just tore us apart. Your turn.”

“I’ve never been married.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? You cannot sit there and tell me that you have never been in love.”

He was quiet for a long moment, turning his glass on the table.

“No,” he said finally. “I can’t say that.”

She waited.

“Her name was Claire. We were together for three years. I thought we wanted the same things.” He took a deep breath. “Turns out she wanted the ranch but not the life that came with it. The early mornings, the work, the fact that I’d never want to live anywhere else.” He looked down at his glass. “She left. Moved to Billings, married a man with a desk job and a house in the suburbs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” He glanced up at her. “Eight years.”

“That’s not as long as you make it sound.”