Page 147 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

The word rattled in my head, unsettling, frustrating.

Who knew?

I sure as hell hadn’t.

There was so much I wanted to ask. So much I needed to understand. Yet, every thought felt like a tangled mess, and I couldn’t pin down where to start.

Instead, I set the plate and the glass on the small two-person kitchen table, then pulled out a chair and sat, waiting.

A few minutes later, she stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in a short cotton robe, her wet hair twisted into a bun on top of her head.

I didn’t speak. Just watched as she moved closer, giving her the space to decide where this went next.

“Hi,” she said softly.

I stood and pulled out the chair for her.

She nodded, dipping her chin, eyes still downcast as she stepped forward and lowered herself into the seat. I slid the chair in gently, then went back to my spot across from her and sat down, the wood creaking under my weight.

Under the table, I curled my fingers tight, like I could hold myself still if I gripped hard enough.

“This was very thoughtful,” she said, gesturing toward the sandwich and water in front of her. “Thank you.”

Finally, she looked at me.

Her green eyes met mine, and like that, I melted.

Everything about the night—the anger, the frustration, the unanswered questions—took a back seat to the quiet vulnerability in her gaze.

She swallowed hard before asking, “How . . . how is your arm? Your head?”

I lifted my hand in a casual gesture. “Broken, but nothing that won’t heal.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but hesitation held her back.

“I-I⁠—”

“It’s okay, Fable.”

She shook her head, her breath hitching as tears slipped down her face. “I— he— I didn’t know he was coming here.”

“I know.”

She wiped at her cheeks, but the tears kept falling.

“Ironically,” I added, leaning back slightly, “I saw him earlier today. At the coffee shop.”

Her eyes went wide. “At Nance’s?”

I nodded.

“Wow.” She exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t know who he was at first, but when he said he was coming from Chicago . . . I had my suspicions.” I sighed, watching her carefully. “Please, Fable. Eat.”

She picked up her sandwich and took a small bite.

I let her eat for a moment before speaking. “I was out on the porch when I saw the bulls get out. I grabbed Ginger to help Kline round them up. Rode past your house on the way, and you were asleep.”