Page 158 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“There’s a lightness to you. You don’t even wash your hands the second you step into the office anymore.”

Therapy had helped. Healing helped. It had been slow, frustrating at times, but the changes had crept in. The grip my fears once had on me was loosening.

I exhaled, glancing out over the land. “Life out here is nice. Every evening, I sit with Beau on the porch, and we watch the stars. We rarely turn on the television because we’re always busy.” A soft chuckle slipped out. “I live on a ranch, for God’s sake.”

Harleigh laughed, shaking her head. “Can you believe that? You—a year ago, you couldn’t even step into the arena at the first bull riding event.”

I swallowed hard. I remembered.

I’d always remember. That moment, that fear. But more importantly, the journey since.

I wasn’t always home because I still traveled with Kline. Since Beau was in retirement, we were preparing to buy a couple of Kline’s bulls—an investment in our future. Beau had an official job working with the bulls on the ranch, which meant we were together often, but even when he wasn’t with me, I was still healing.

Life was messy. It was different.

Harleigh smiled as we started walking back toward the house. My house. Beau’s house.

Our house.

Wow.

I chuckled to myself as we stepped through the field that connected the two properties.

“You know,” she murmured, nudging me gently with her shoulder, “if I could go back a year and show that version of you this—your home, your happiness, the way you’ve healed—I don’t think she’d believe it.”

I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.

“You left Mike. You moved on. You faced things that used to paralyze you. Your OCD doesn’t own you anymore. You still fight it, but I see you. You’re here. Living. Healing. Loving.” She exhaled, blinking quickly, and I could tell she was trying not to get emotional. “I’m . . . fucking proud of you.”

I bit my lip, warmth blooming in my chest, my fingers flexing at my sides. “Healing’s hard,” I admitted. “I work at it every day. Some days are easier than others, some days I backslide, but . . . it’s helped.”

Harleigh squeezed my arm. “You deserve it.”

I let out a breath, my lips curving into a small smile.

As we neared the house, Harleigh suddenly veered toward the barn instead of heading straight up the porch steps.

I frowned. “Why are we going through the barn?”

She smirked. “Come on.”

The barn was still under construction for the expansion—we needed the extra space for the new bulls—but it was still livable for Ginger.

Harleigh pulled open the barn door and gestured for me to step inside.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you up to?”

She grinned. “You’ll see.”

The barn smelled of fresh hay and wood shavings. My boots scuffed against the floor as I stepped inside, and standing in the middle of the barn, tied loosely to a post, was the most beautiful black horse I had ever seen. Her coat gleamed, the exact color of Harleigh’s hair. Her ears perked up at my presence, and as soon as she noticed me, she let out a soft, welcoming neigh.

I inhaled sharply. “Hey, pretty girl,” I murmured, taking a hesitant step forward before stopping myself.

I was working on healing, working on trusting, but stepping up to a new animal, one I didn’t know, was something I struggled with.

Still, my heart hammered in my chest, something warm unfurling inside me.

That’s when I noticed it—something tied around her neck. A thick rope looped loosely, and at the end of it, a small, square box dangled against her sleek coat.