Page 164 of Sunrise & Serenity

I take a sip. “I thought you hated coffee.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you drinking it?”

He shrugs. “Gives me something to hold while I pretend I know what I’m doing.”

A laugh slips out despite myself.

He studies me for a long second. “You did good today.”

“Yeah.”

He’s right. I did better than I thought I would, anyway. Helping the kids. Talking through techniques. Watching them light up when something finally clicked. I enjoyed it. Which should make this easier.

Instead, it somehow makes it harder.

Rick jerks his head toward the hospitality tent. “Sponsors are waiting. They want to finalize things.”

My stomach sinks. My least favorite part of this whole thing.

He grimaces, clearly picking up on my reaction. “That bad, huh?”

A few months ago, I’d have been halfway into that tent, ready to hear whatever they’d lined up next—travel, clinics, sponsor appearances. With a shake of my head, I turn, and the two of us walk across the fairgrounds together.

The afternoon sun beats down on the packed dirt. Behind us, an announcer’s voice crackles. Nearby, livestock shift in their pens.

Everything looks the way it’s supposed to. And still, none of it feels right.

I’m not sure it ever will.

For the past week, I’ve been trying to convince myself that this can still be my life. Good money. Familiar territory. Practical. Safe.

But every morning, I wake up forgetting where I am and reach out for a soft, warm body that isn’t there. And when my mind clears, my first thought is always of home. Not the arena, not the road, not the endless movement pretending to be freedom.

Wild Ember.

Sage.

And every morning, I remember that I left it all behind, and my gut twists into a tighter knot.

I don’t even realize I’ve stopped until Rick steps in front of me, his brows drawn together. He shakes his head. “Nobody would blame you if you decided that ranch life suits you better these days.”

A humorless laugh scrapes out of me. “You might not.”

“Don’t worry about those guys.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to where the sponsors are waiting. “I can deal with them if you’ve got other places to be.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Every time you mention the ranch, you look like a guy talking about an ex-wife he’s still in love with.” He scratches at his scruffy jaw. “And for what it’s worth, you stopped looking happy in this world a while ago. Even before you got trod on.”

I scan the trailers, the arena, the crowds. The life I spent twelve years chasing.

Since I’ve been back, all I can think about is mornings on the ranch, Chance calling out from one of the barns, Dad’s breakfasts, Taryn’s laugh when Quinn is acting a fool. And Sage… Sage standing on the ridge, holding a camera as the sunrise hits the mountains behind her.

Every dream I’ve had this week has been about her. Her laugh, her smile, the way she goes completely still when she sees something beautiful, the way she looks at Wild Ember like there’s nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.

The way she looks at me like she sees every part of me, even the ones I spent years trying to hide.