Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I needed something to do because the silence felt overwhelming, so I walked over to the porch swing and sat. For a moment, I thought he might stay where he was, but then the wood creaked beneath his weight as he lowered himself beside me. He kept enough distance between us that our bodies didn’t touch, but I felt his presence as strongly as if he had wrapped an arm around me.
The last edge of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains, crickets started chirping in the grass, and somewhere in the distance a horse made an impatient sound.
“I thought you started fixing things after my father died,” I said. “Then I found the tax receipt and realized you’ve been doing it… forever.”
Ryder’s hands rested loosely between his knees. “Should’ve made sure you didn’t see that stuff.”
I turned toward him. “You paid so much money toward a ranch that wasn't yours. I don’t understand.” He remained silent, so I pressed, trying to make sense of any of this. “It wasn’t your debt, Ryder.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
He dragged one hand over his jaw, the rough sound of his palm against his scruff filling the quiet. “Because it was yours.”
I stared at his profile, at the slight scar curving from his mouth and the hard line of his jaw. “You didn’t know if I was ever coming back,” I whispered. “Why take that chance?”
“Didn’t matter.”
“You might’ve spent all your money taking care of a place I never wanted to see again.”
His gaze shifted to me. “I know. Didn’t matter.”
The simple certainty of his answer stole the breath from my lungs. “And no matter what, you would’ve kept doing it anyway?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I felt like I was grasping at straws, but they kept slipping between my fingers.
His jaw tightened. “You keep asking questions you already know the answers to.”
“But I don’t. Everything has been so damn confusing since coming back here. Nothing makes sense.”
Ryder suddenly stood and walked to the porch railing. He braced both hands against the wood and stared out at the darkening fields. I watched the tension settle across his shoulders but didn’t dare say anything. I’d let him open up to me on his own.
“I couldn’t do shit when we were younger,” he finally said quietly. “Couldn’t stop him from drinking. Couldn’t stop him from hurting you.” I saw the way his knuckles turned white as he tightened his fingers around the railing. “Every time I saw you scared, knowing you were hiding until he passed out….” He stopped speaking, but I saw the way his jaw clenched hard. “I wanted to fucking kill him so many times, Lila.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The evening breeze drifted across the porch, carrying the scent of dry grass and earth. Ryder stood with his back to me, broad shoulders rigid beneath the fading light.
Then he spoke again. “Dad died when I was twenty-two. Heart attack while he was out checking fences. Mom followed him a few years later.” His gaze shifted toward me. “By then, I was already running most of the ranch anyway. There wasn't any place else I wanted to be.”
My breath caught. “Oh, Ryder.” Guilt hit me so hard I could barely swallow around it. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”
“Didn't expect you to.”
I looked down at my hands. “After I left, I cut myself off from all of it. This town. The ranch. Everybody.” I glanced back at him. “I didn't stay in touch with anyone. I thought if I put enough distance between myself and this place, I could pretend none of it had ever happened.”
His expression softened.
“I should've known,” I whispered.
“No, sweetheart, you shouldn't have.” He took a small step closer. “My folks kept to themselves, and so did I after they were gone.” He glanced toward the pasture, his gaze following the fence line in the distance. “There wasn't any place else I wanted to be,” he said quietly. “I grew up here. Learned this land the same way I learned my own name. By the time Dad died, I was already running most of the ranch anyway, so I just kept going.”
His gaze was trained so hard on me it felt like a physical touch.
“Although this was always my home, it was missing the most important part.”
I held my breath.
“You.”
I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t let all my emotions control me, not now. In private… that was another story.
“You left, but I knew one day you'd come back. Maybe not in a year or five years, but eventually.” His jaw tightened. “I wasn't leavin' when I knew exactly where you belonged.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe. The boy I'd left behind had lost both of his parents while I was gone, and somehow he was standing here telling me he'd stayed because of me.