12. Dawn
Chapter 12
Dawn
T he morning after the storm, the ranch felt like a battlefield. Debris scattered the grounds, and the smell of wet wood and mud hung heavy in the air. I couldn’t believe the roof of the residents’ lodgings had caved in, leaving Clara, Benjamin, and Simon shaken, but thank God, unharmed. Willow had already taken charge, clearing out what she could salvage from the outside stocks. Her determination was fierce, her voice calm but authoritative.
I should have stayed.
But here I was, alone, amidst the sea of trucks, trailers, and cowboys. The rodeo grounds hummed with life—a sharp contrast to the chaos back home. Celine, my horse, shifted beneath me, sensing my unease. I ran my hand down her neck, trying to reassure us both.
I told myself this was for the ranch. For the people who needed me. The benefit concert would help, but the money would only stretch so far. These competitions were meant to be a lifeline. But as I sat there in the saddle, waiting for my turn, the weight of it all felt heavy. The cheers of the crowd rang in my ears, but they felt hollow. What once was the thrilling anticipation of the barrel race had turned into just another obligation.
When my name was called, I forced a smile, nudging Celine into the arena. The barrels gleamed in the midday sun, a familiar pattern that used to make my blood race. The announcer’s voice blurred into the background as I focused on the run. Celine bolted, her hooves thundering against the packed dirt. We weaved around the barrels with the kind of precision only years of training could afford.
It wasn’t our best run, but it wasn’t our worst. As we crossed the finish line, I patted Celine’s neck, whispering, “Good girl.” The crowd clapped politely, and I trotted her back to the holding area, the adrenaline already ebbing away.
Third place.
It wasn’t bad. A small ribbon, a modest cash prize—enough to cover a fraction of what the ranch needed. But it wasn’t enough to feel like a win. Not enough to take away the guilt eating at my gut for leaving Willow and Billie to clean up the mess at home.
I used to love these races—the rush, the camaraderie, the pure joy of competing. But now, watching the other riders celebrate their victories, I felt like an outsider. The thrill was gone. In its place, a dull ache simmered—resentment I couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was because of my parents and the legacy they left me to deal with. Or maybe it was for myself—for not being brave enough to walk away.
Celine nudged me, her soft breath brushing against my arm, pulling me back from the whirl of my thoughts. “I’m okay, girl,” I murmured, though it was a lie. I led her back to the trailer, the ribbon limp in my hand. Around me, the rodeo continued, alive and vibrant, but I felt distant—like I was watching through a fog.
I didn’t know how much longer I could keep chasing these races, chasing money that always seemed just out of reach. But right now, I didn’t have a choice. The ranch needed me, and there was no other option.
The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting orange light on the buildings just outside the city. I stopped at a gas station on my way back to Skyline Acres, the tires of my truck splashing in a puddle left by yesterday’s storm.
I got out of the truck, boots clunking against the pavement as I walked to the pump. The cold metal of the handle sent a jolt through my hand as I began filling up. The faint hum of the neon gas station sign buzzed in the background. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure stepping out of a shiny silver pickup a few pumps over.
“Nash?” I called, though it wasn’t surprising to see him here in his hometown.
He turned, tipping his hat back just enough for me to catch his easy smile. “Evening, Dawn,” he greeted, strolling toward me like he had all the time in the world.
“Figured you’d already be at the ranch by now,” I said, leaning against the truck. “You’re usually the first one there.”
“Stopped to grab some supplies,” he explained, holding a bag of sunflower seeds and a bottle of iced tea. “Fuel for the road.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sunflower seeds? Planning on quitting country for baseball?”
“Nah, just a man with simple tastes,” he said with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “What’s your excuse? Don’t tell me the all-provident Dawn ran outta gas.”
“Not quite,” I said, glancing at the pump. “Thought I’d top off before heading back. Long day ahead tomorrow.”
“You’ve been running yourself ragged, Dawn,” he said, his tone casual but with a hint of concern. “Maybe let someone else take the reins for a bit.”
“Like you?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.
“Why not?” he shrugged, popping a sunflower seed in his mouth. “I’m getting pretty good at mucking stalls if I say so myself.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re full of it.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, leaning against the pump beside me. “But you can’t deny I’m handy to have around.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “We’ll see. Depends if you’re still standing after all the work I’ve got lined up for you.”
He chuckled, pushing off from the pump, tipping his hat. “Guess I better get moving, then. See you at the ranch, boss.”
As I climbed back into the truck, I caught a glimpse of him through the passenger side window. He walked back to his pickup, his easy stride making the familiar motion seem almost comforting.
The headlights from Nash’s truck filled the side mirrors as we pulled out of the gas station, heading toward Skyline Acres. It wasn’t the first time we’d caravanned back to the ranch together, but tonight, there was something steadier about his presence—like a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been leaning on.
The moon rose higher in the sky as the miles slipped away, the road stretching before us. We were almost at the turnoff to the ranch when blue and red lights flashed ahead, bouncing off the trees like a warning.
I slowed, squinting toward the flashing lights. Police cars were parked across the intersection, their lights cutting through the dusk. A group of people in bright yellow jackets were waving flashlights, directing traffic. My stomach twisted.
I pulled up and stepped out of the truck, Nash pulling up behind me.
“What’s going on?” I asked one of the officers as I approached, boots crunching against the cracked asphalt.
He turned, exhaustion lining his face. “Big landslide up ahead. Split the road clean in two. No one’s getting through tonight.”
“Split the road?” I asked, my heart sinking. “But I need to get to Skyline Acres. It’s just a few miles from here. Isn’t there a way around? How long until it’s cleared?”
He shook his head. “Could take days, maybe longer. For now, everyone’s being rerouted through the city.”
“The city?” I echoed, feeling the frustration bubble over. “That’s at least a four-hour detour! I’ve got animals to tend to, people to look after?—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, raising a hand. “But it’s not safe. You’ll have to take the detour like everyone else.”
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing in a tight circle. Behind me, Nash approached, his boots barely making a sound on the ground.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through my escalating tension.
“Landslide,” I said, spinning around. “They’re saying we have to go all the way through the city. Four extra hours. I’ve got horses, people?—”
“Hey,” he said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “Take a breath, Dawn. We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t think you’re getting it,” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “This isn’t just a delay—it’s a disaster. I can’t leave them alone. What if?—”
His gaze softened, but his voice remained steady. “I do get it. But getting worked up isn’t going to fix that road.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but something about the way he looked at me made me stop. He wasn’t dismissing me. He was holding me steady.
I planted my hands on my hips. “We don’t have time for this, Nash. The ranch?—”
“I know,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “But stressing out won’t clean the road. We’ll figure it out.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to calm the frantic pace of my heart. “There has to be another way—a back road, a trail…”
The deputy cut in. “If there is, I don’t know it. Look, I know this is inconvenient, but it’s the safest option.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes. The weight of the delay, the detour, and everything we needed to do at the ranch—it all pressed down on me at once.
Nash stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Dawn, let’s just settle down for the night. We’ll call Willow and your sister to tell them. They can hold down the fort for you. They’re fully competent to do so.”
I wanted to argue, to push back against the unfairness of it all, but the steadiness in his voice calmed me.
“Fine,” I said, exhaling hard. “We need to find a spot for Celine. I can’t leave her in the trailer for the entire night.”
He nodded, giving me a small smile. “We passed other ranches on our way here. I’m sure one of them would be kind enough to offer shelter for her.”
As we turned back to our trucks, the frustration still simmered in my chest, but Nash’s quiet reassurance made the idea of leaving the ranch to itself a tiny bit less daunting.
I followed his truck down another back road not far from Skyline Acres. Nash was heading towards the Leblanc’s ranch. I knew my father had always spoken fondly of them. They managed the ranch with four children and still raised the best competition horses in the province. I hadn’t seen them since my parents’ funerals.
The light of their TV shone through the window from their living room as I parked my truck in their driveway. I took a moment to breathe, letting my head rest on my steering wheel. I was stressed and tired—so, so tired.
Figuring it out. We’ll figure it out. Those words haunted me. I was exhausted from figuring things out, from sleepless nights and turning scenarios in my head. The weight of it all pressed down on my shoulders every day.
I opened my truck’s door to get out, but I noticed that Nash had beaten me to it, already talking to Mr. Leblanc at the front door. The man was older than I remembered, his white hair crowning the top of his head. His boys were probably all in their twenties and thirties by now. The conversation seemed pleasant, shoulders being patted, and smiles exchanged.
I saw Mr. Leblanc grab his coat as Nash jogged down the steps and approached me.
“Good news! They have a free stall for Celine. Bad news, they don’t have a room for us. All their children are in town. They seem like good people.” He smiled excitedly as if all of this were an adventure for him.
We made our way to the barn at the back of the house. The white exterior was contrasted by black accents on the sliding doors. The building was huge and clearly new. I led Celine inside, her hooves clopping gently against the concrete floor, and guided her into the last free stall.
“There you go, girl,” I murmured, brushing her neck soothingly. She nudged my shoulder in response, already settling into her temporary quarters. “Not used to this kind of luxury, eh?”
The red paver floors contrasted with our cracked concrete ones. The barn had tall ceilings, with modern light fixtures. A skylight above us allowed the moonlight to shine through. Each stall was spacious, with its own watering system. No used hoses in sight. The place was magnificent—everything we would have wanted for Skyline Acres, if we’d had the money.
I heard the barn door slide open behind me, followed by the soft shuffle of feet on concrete.
“Dawn?” A familiar voice called, warm and delighted.
I turned to see Mrs. Leblanc stepping into the barn. Despite the lines of age around her eyes, a bright smile lit up her face. She shivered even though she had a thick coat on, putting her hands in her pockets as she came closer.
“Well, would you look at you,” she said, her gaze sweeping over me. “Every time I see you, you’re looking more and more like your mama. Got her smile, that’s for sure.”
Her words hit me square in the chest, and a mix of warmth and the ache of missing my parents in this kind of situation flooded through me. “Thanks, Mrs. Leblanc,” I said softly. “My parents always spoke so highly of you and your husband.”
“Oh, stop,” she said, waving her hand dismissively but beaming. “Your parents were one of a kind. We were lucky to know them.”
Before I could respond, I caught sight of Mr. Leblanc just outside the barn, talking with Nash—their faces illuminated only by the small light outside.
“Your husband seems really sweet, dear,” Mrs. Leblanc said, approaching me slowly.
“Oh, he’s?—”
“You are one lucky girl. A beautiful, helpful man. They don’t make them like that anymore.” She winked before strolling toward the pair. I followed her without correcting her impression of Nash and me.
“We’ll probably sleep at the village motel. I have a room there. It’s not the best, but it will do,” I heard Nash say as I approached.
“The motel? Well, I’m deeply sorry for not having a place for you two,” added Mr. Leblanc.
“Your generosity for my mare is more than enough. We’ll be fine at the motel. Thank you,” I continued, trying my best to sound polite, even though the thought of a roadside motel wasn’t exactly appealing.
The night had fully settled in, the moon shining brightly in the middle of the sky as we finally made our way to the village. I suppressed many yawns as I sat beside Nash in his truck. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence, and my eyes drifted to Nash as he drove. His hands gripped the wheel confidently, his forearms flexing slightly with every turn. The glow from the dashboard illuminated his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, and the easy way he held himself.
“All right, princess, here’s your castle for the night,” he said, winking at me as he parked the truck just outside a decaying building.
Damn, they really hadn’t invested a cent in this place for years. The wooden steps were wobbly, the mint-colored paint chipped on the door and window sill, and spiderwebs decorated the unstable ramp.
Nash unlocked the door with an old, rusted key, and I made my way inside, hoping for something better. He may have called me princess, but I was used to sleeping in poor conditions on the road from rodeo to rodeo. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of the small room.
“What the hell is that?” I let out, seeing wet spots at the bottom of the walls, an old box TV collecting dust in the corner, and a faded frame barely hanging on the wall above the bed. Black mold spots covered the ceiling, and an old mirror faced the door. It had probably seen more horror than a late-night slasher film marathon.
“Yeah, I know. But hey, that’s a color TV!” Nash said, dramatically pointing to the old set as if he were in an ‘80s commercial.
I dropped my bag on the floor beside the bed and lifted the covers with apprehension. Brown spots littered the blankets, as if someone had been murdered right there.
“Holy shit, you’re not sleeping in this, are you? Looks like someone died there.”
“Nah, I usually sleep on the couch, or for special occasions, the bathtub. And now that you mention it, I do hear voices at night… I thought it was my neighbors.” He shrugged casually.
“I’m not sleeping in a bathtub.”
“The couch it is, then!” He replied, already arranging some clean blankets on the used sofa.
“Wait, where are you going to sleep?”
“Huh… on the couch?” He answered, as if it were obvious.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I said, crossing my arms firmly over my chest.
Nash smirked, leaning against the armrest of the couch with maddening, effortless confidence. “Alright, then. I’ll take the couch; you take the murder bed. Seems fair to me.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “No way. We’ll figure something else out.”
He straightened, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and raised an eyebrow. “Like what? We flip for it?”
I shook my head, grabbing what appeared to be clean towels folded neatly on a side-table by the bathroom door. “Like we both take showers and come up with a better plan when we’re not standing around arguing in... whatever this place smells like.”
“Smart plan,” he said, pushing off the couch and heading toward the bathroom before me. He paused at the door, turning back with a sly grin. “Unless you’re worried about me stealing all the hot water, princess.”
I shot him a look, tossing a towel at his chest. “Stop calling me princess. And don’t take all night. We’ve got work to do in the morning.”
“Don’t worry, princess. I’m a pro at the quickie game.” His grin widened as he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me standing there, half-annoyed, half-flustered despite myself.
As the sound of the shower started, I sank into the old wooden chair by the window, glancing at the bed again. Sharing a room with Nash instead of being at the ranch was bad enough. But the couch? The murder bed? Maybe the bathtub wasn’t looking so bad after all.
A few minutes later, Nash emerged from the bathroom with only a small towel around his hips. The yellow lights highlighted his strong stomach and muscled arms. I followed a drop of water sliding from his neck down his chest and into the towel. A familiar warmth pooled in my stomach at the sight. How many abs can a man even have? Two, four, six-
“You’re drooling, princess.”
I scoffed, quickly directing my eyes toward the bed filled with strange substances. I could see Nash smile with all his teeth, proud of himself, as he grabbed a pair of underwear from his suitcase. I couldn’t help but look at his muscular back, wondering what it would feel like to be held in his arms as he pressed me against the wall. He would probably whisper sweet things in my ear. I was sure he was the kind of man to talk you through it.
Okay, no. I had to come back to my senses. I couldn’t let myself think about Nash this way, even if he looked like the embodiment of desire.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I sputtered, almost tripping on my feet as I made my way to the bathroom.
The water went cold after only a few seconds, but it didn’t matter to me. I needed it to snap out of whatever these thoughts were. Yes, Nash was a good-looking man. And honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex. But it wasn’t a reason to lust after him. But maybe sleeping with him would help me release some accumulated tension. Okay, Dawn, stop it right now.
I put on new underwear and my last clean T-shirt, which was a bit too short for me and showed part of my stomach. Well, that was it for tonight.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, I found Nash sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets, scrolling on his phone. I didn’t want to argue again, too tired even to form a coherent response.
“Make room, cowboy,” I said, getting under the covers as far from him as possible. Even with the blankets, a shiver coursed through me, giving me goosebumps. I was so concentrated on silently devouring Nash with my eyes that I hadn’t noticed how cold the room was.
“The heater doesn’t work, and the AC is stuck on high,” he said, clearly noticing my shivering.
“Nash… you could’ve said something about the state of this place. I would have told you to stay at the ranch with us.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt your peace even further,” he answered, closing his phone and placing it beside him.
I stared up at the ceiling, the dim light from the parking lot outside filtering through the broken blinds. His words echoed in my mind: I didn’t want to disrupt your peace even further.
Was I really so guarded, so protective of Skyline Acres, that I had made it hard for anyone to help? The ranch was my whole world—my responsibility, my legacy—but had I built walls so high that even well-meaning people like Nash felt they couldn’t get through?
I pulled the blankets tighter around me, the chill in the room biting at my skin. Nash shifted beside me, careful not to get too close, and I felt a pang of guilt. Here he was, giving his time and effort to a place that wasn’t even his, sleeping in drafty motel rooms and mucking out stalls without complaint, and I was still questioning his presence.
“Am I that hard to deal with?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Nash turned his head toward me, his expression unreadable in the faint light. “What are you talking about?”
I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been so focused on protecting the ranch and keeping everything running that I’ve made it hard for people to feel welcome. For you to feel welcome.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I immediately regretted saying anything. But then he spoke, his voice low and steady. “Dawn, you care about that place like it’s a part of you. And yeah, you’ve got walls up, but I don’t think it’s because you’re shutting people out. You’re just trying to hold everything together. Don’t apologize for trying your best.”
I turned my head to look at him, his face shadowed but still somehow comforting. I needed to stop overthinking everything.
My eyes grew heavy, and I felt sleep drawing me in. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of a warm, strong shoulder against my temple.
* * *
Nash
I woke up to the softest weight on my lap, a warmth that pulled me from sleep like the slow rise of a tide. Dawn’s head was resting there, her dark hair spilling across my legs like a curtain, and for a moment, everything was quiet—peaceful, even. The kind of calm I hadn’t felt in years.
My hand was resting on her hip, and the air between us felt different, as if it were holding its breath. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting like this—too long, probably—but I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to disturb the stillness or the feeling that had settled in my chest, making everything feel a little more right than it had in a long time.
I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my feelings for her had changed, when it stopped being just playful banter and turned into something more. But now, with her head resting in my lap and her presence so near, I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted more—something deeper, something lasting, something that felt like it could endure.
Dawn had become this quiet presence in my life, a breath of fresh air when I was choking on the dust of my past mistakes. She was grounded, steady—everything I wasn’t. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way she looked at me, the way she saw through the layers I’d built around myself, the way she made me feel like maybe I wasn’t as lost as I’d thought.
I felt her stir slightly, her breath warm against my leg, and I held my breath, not wanting to break the moment. My heart raced unexpectedly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she felt what I felt—if there was something between us that we were both trying to ignore or push aside. I wanted to reach for her, to run my fingers through her hair, to pull her closer, but I held back, afraid of what it might mean.
But the longer I sat there, the more I realized I didn’t want to keep running from it. I wanted a different life. A life where I didn’t feel like I was constantly drowning in my past. A life where I wasn’t so caught up in trying to fix the broken pieces of my career, where I wasn’t constantly looking for the next big thing to save me from myself. I wanted something simple. Something real. Something that maybe—just maybe—could be with someone like her.
I glanced down at Dawn, her face relaxed in sleep. The intensity of the thought blinded me like a deer in headlights. I wasn’t just fighting for a chance to redeem myself anymore. I was fighting for a future. A different future.
I didn’t know if she felt the same way. Hell, I didn’t even know if she’d ever see me as more than just the guy trying to redeem his past. But as I watched her, this feeling in my chest kept growing, swelling, until it felt like it might burst if I didn’t face it.
I wanted to be more than the guy who screwed up. More than the man whose name had been dragged through the mud, whose career was hanging by a thread. I wanted to be someone worthy of her.
But it was more than that. I didn’t just want to be around her. I wanted to build something. I wanted the chance to prove to her—maybe to myself, too—that I could be the kind of man who could offer something more than just a broken dream. I wanted to show her that life could be different, that it didn’t have to be about running from the past or just surviving.
As her eyes fluttered open, meeting mine, I realized I wasn’t just wishing for more. I was already starting to believe it was possible. And I had to admit, the thought of it scared me.
She blinked a few times, clearly waking up, and then, with a quick, embarrassed movement, she sat up, her hair falling like a cascade as she pulled herself away from me.
“Sorry,” she muttered, her voice a little groggy as she ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
I couldn’t help but grin, the playful side of me surfacing again. “You know, you’re welcome to nap on me anytime. I’m pretty comfortable, I’d say.”
She shot me a look, half annoyed, half flustered, and I could see her trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that. I?—”
“Relax, Dawn,” I interrupted, leaning back slightly, watching her trying to find something more interesting to look at. “It’s not like you drooled on me or anything.”
Her face flushed even deeper. “I didn’t!” she protested, but her voice cracked just a little, and I knew I had her.
I chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to catch her off guard. “I’m just messing with you,” I teased, reaching over to ruffle her hair lightly. “I’d never hold that against you.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was that familiar spark in them again. The kind of spark that made me want to keep teasing her, to keep pushing her boundaries, just to see if I could get her to relax a little more.
We sat in silence for a moment, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. It was the kind that only happens when you feel secure and serene enough with a person. I wasn’t sure what it meant—whether it was because I was falling deeper into this thing between us, or because the weight of everything was pressing down on me again—but I couldn’t help but feel like I wanted more.
More than just the banter. More than just this lighthearted flirtation we had going.
I glanced over at her, watching her bite her bottom lip as if she were lost in thought. She was always so composed, so steady, but I was starting to see the cracks in the armor. I wondered if she felt it too—the unspoken thing between us that neither of us seemed to be brave enough to name.
“Alright, I’ll admit it,” I said, breaking the silence with a smirk. “You make a pretty good pillow.”
She gave me a skeptical glance, but her voice was soft when she spoke. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
I winked. “It’s early. Give me a minute.”
She shook her head, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards again.
“Alright, princess. Let’s go see how the ranch has been holding up.”