Page 179 of Sunrise & Serenity

“Every time I went through it again, every time I came up with another scenario, all I really got was another chance to hurt.” His jaw flexes. “And for a while, that felt important.”

It’s like he’s reached inside my head and put words to something I never could.

“For a long while, I thought I owed it to her.”

“Owed her what?”

“The hurting.”

The simplicity of the answer knocks the breath out of me.

He lifts one shoulder. “Didn’t seem right to move on, you know?”

I stare at him as he studies the image of the original ranch house.

“Eventually, I realized she’d have hated that.” He levels his gaze on me. “But you know what would’ve really broken her heart?”

I can’t answer.

He shakes his head slowly. “Watching you spend twelve years punishing yourself for a moment none of us could change.”

For a second, the room tilts. Every rodeo. Every motel. Every excuse. Every mile I put between myself and this place.

Punishment, not escape. Punishment.

Dad steps forward and squeezes my shoulder once, then turns and starts for the door. Halfway there, he pauses. “Sage texted.”

My heart kicks against my ribs, and he smiles like he knows. “They’re about ten minutes out.”

Then he’s gone. Once the door closes behind him, silence settles across the lodge again.

I look back at the wall. At evidence of generations who endured, who loved, who lost, and kept living anyway.

My gaze drifts across the photographs, across the story Sage somehow saw so clearly.

She would have loved Sage too.

Yeah, she would have.

With nothing but her on my mind, I wander back to the ranch house. Ten minutes turns out to be closer to fifteen.

Not that I’m counting.

I sink onto the porch swing, one foot pushing against the floorboards as my gaze drifts back to the driveway every few seconds.

The screen door creaks open behind me.

Taryn steps out onto the porch, easing it shut before sitting on the top step beside the railing. She folds her arms across her knees, staring out over the paddocks.

For a minute, neither of us says anything.

“You okay?” I ask.

She shrugs, but it’s not convincing.

“Dad told me you went to see him.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “I just…” She swallows. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”