Page 161 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I laughed, shaking my head as tears pricked at my eyes again.

This was home.

Because a year ago, I was still running.

From the past. From the truth. From the things I didn’t want to face, the things that controlled me more than I ever realized.

Anxiety and OCD had gripped me so tightly for so long that I thought it was who I was. That I had to live within the walls my mind built for me. That my life would always be limited.

Healing—real healing—meant leaving what was comfortable.

It meant looking in the mirror and telling the truth, not just to the person I loved, but to myself. It meant setting myself free before someone else could do it for me.

And when I finally did?

When I let go of the things I thought I needed to survive and started following the journey instead of fighting it?

It led me here.

To a place I never imagined I’d belong.

A city girl in a small town.

A girl who once hated dirt and feared it, standing in a field, watching the sun set over a ranch she was building with the love of her life.

A woman who once thought she was too broken to be loved—learning that love had never been about being perfect.

It had always been about choosing each other, over and over again.

As I stood there, wrapped in Beau’s arms, surrounded by the warmth of people who had become my family, something settled deep inside me. Not an epiphany, not some grand, earth-shattering realization—a quiet, steady knowing.

I wasn’t running anymore.

I wasn’t gripping so tightly onto the things I thought kept me safe.

I had let go.

In that space, in the uncertainty, in the messiness of healing and love and choosing to be here, I had found something better than control.

I had found peace.

Not the kind that came from everything being perfect, but the kind that came from knowing that even when it wasn’t, I wasn’t alone.

Heck, maybe that was the point all along.

“I used to be terrified of losing you,” Beau admitted. My glazed eyes snapped up to his. “The way I lost my mom, the way my dad lost himself after she was gone. I thought if I held on too tight, if I let myself love you too much, you’d slip right through my fingers.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around his as I remembered what we’d gone through.

“I didn’t lose you,” he continued, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I gained everything. A whole new life. A future. Us.”

“Then let’s hold on, bull rider.” I leaned in, my lips brushing against his, my voice a whisper.

“Because the best rides don’t last eight seconds—they last a lifetime.”

Beau

11 Months Later