Chapter 31
The familiar smell of hay, leather, and saddle soap usually put Seth at ease.
Today, it did nothing.
Sunlight filtered through the open barn doors in long golden streams, catching dust motes that drifted lazily through the still afternoon air.
Somewhere down the aisle, a horse shifted in its stall, followed by the soft clink of a halter ring against wood.
Outside, an ATV buzzed past the barn before disappearing toward the back pastures.
The ranch carried on, as it always did.
Seth wished his mind would do the same.
He tightened another bolt on the worn wooden saddle rack, more because it gave his hands something to do than because it actually needed tightening. The wrench bit into his palm as he leaned into it. He welcomed the sting.
Anything was better than letting his thoughts wander. But they did anyway—back to Shylo.
Every laugh they'd shared.
Every dinner.
Every kiss.
And every time she'd looked him in the eye and answered one of his questions.
Which answers had been true? Which had been carefully chosen to hide the one thing she didn't want him to know?
He'd replayed every conversation so many times that he wondered if any of it had been real.
The worst part was... most of it probably had.
He'd dated enough women over the years to recognize genuine smiles, lingering glances, and the subtle changes in a woman's voice when her feelings started to deepen.
Shylo had laughed at his stupid jokes, rolled her eyes when he'd defended ranch dressing on pizza, and kissed him like she'd wanted a future with him.
Every instinct told him those moments had been real.
Only she'd done all of it while carrying a secret big enough to change everything. How could he trust her after that?
The crunch of footsteps behind him registered a second before the familiar scent of vanilla shampoo wrapped around him.
His chest tightened.
He didn't have to turn around to see who it was.
He already knew.
For one reckless heartbeat, he had the urge to forget the last twenty-four hours. To turn around, pull her into his arms, and tell her that the lies didn’t matter.
Instead, he gave the wrench another quarter turn.
“Seth?”
Her voice sounded smaller than he'd ever heard it.
He closed his eyes for the briefest moment before setting the wrench on the workbench. He still couldn't make himself look at her.
“I'm sorry.”
The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried through the still barn as clearly as if she'd shouted them.
Instead of turning around, he strode into the barn’s tack room.
Leather bridles hung in neat rows along one wall, while saddles lined the racks, and shelves held supplies.
Nothing needed his attention, but he reached for a halter anyway, moving it an inch to the left before straightening another beside it.
He knew she had followed him and stood in the doorway, waiting for him to say something.
He couldn't. Not yet.
Hurt, not reason, would fuel his words at that moment. As much as she'd broken his heart, the last thing he wanted was to return the favor.
“I know you probably don't want to see me.”
That wasn't it.
Seeing her wasn't the problem. The problem was that every time he looked at her, every feeling he'd had yesterday morning came rushing back. He still wanted to kiss her. Still wanted to hear her laugh. Still wanted to believe the future he'd started imagining hadn't disappeared overnight.
He moved boxes around on a shelf, more for something to do with his hands than anything else.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You did.” His own voice sounded rough, as though he hadn't used it in days.
“I know.”
“No.” He finally turned around and looked at her. “I don't think you do.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. Her hair was divided into several neat braids, likely Arianna's handiwork, and her shoulders sagged beneath the burdens she carried. Yet she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
He'd imagined this conversation a dozen different ways since storming out of dinner the night before. More than once, he'd convinced himself seeing her cry would somehow make him feel better.
It didn't. If anything, it made the ache in his chest worse.
“I told you things I've never told anybody,” he said.
“So did I.”
He leaned back against the workbench and crossed his arms, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “But you left out the biggest one.”
“I—I didn't know how to tell you.”
“You had plenty of chances.”
She lowered her gaze, blinking hard. “I know.”
“I asked why you came to Hazard and what your plans were. I asked you things because I wanted to know everything about you.” He shook his head slowly, still struggling to reconcile the woman he'd fallen for with the secret she'd carried from the moment they'd met.
“And now that I think about it, none of your answers were really lies... but they weren't the truth either.”
“I wasn't lying about us.” A tear escaped and slid down her cheek before she brushed it away. “Everything I felt... every minute we spent with each other... that was real.”
He believed her. That was the cruelest part. Not because she'd convinced him, but because despite everything that had happened, some stubborn part of his heart still recognized the honesty in her eyes.
“I love you.”
The whispered words landed with enough force to steal the breath from his lungs.
God, he'd wanted to hear her say that.
Just... not like this.
Everything in him wanted to close the distance between them, to wrap his arms around her, and tell her he'd been in love with her for days. Hell, maybe since the moment he met her. Instead, he forced himself to stay where he was. “You shouldn't.”
Her face crumpled.
He shook his head. “I can't do this. I can’t believe anything you say.”
“Seth—”
“I can't.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “Because you made me question everything between us. I don't know how to come back from that.”
The tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over.
Seeing them broke something inside him. But not enough to silence the doubt that had taken root the moment he’d heard she was Shane’s sister.
“I think you should go.”
She didn't move right away. She stood there staring at him as though waiting for him to change his mind, and God help him, part of him almost did.
He couldn't.
Not until he knew how to trust his own heart again.
A sob caught in her throat before she turned toward the barn door. She paused for only a heartbeat, as though hoping he'd stop her, then walked away.
He watched her go, every step feeling like another crack splitting something inside him. Her shoulders rounded beneath the weight of disappointment, and even after she disappeared from view, he could still hear the faint sound of her sniffles drifting back through the open doorway.
His feet wanted to follow her, but his mind overruled them.
He remained where he was until the sound of her footsteps faded completely. Long after she'd gone, he stared at the empty doorway, wishing he'd had the courage to run after her.
Instead, all he could do was stand there and wonder if he'd just watched the best thing that had ever happened to him walk out of his life.