Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sawyer
It’s one of those evenings where everything feels easy. Just me, Rover, and the quiet of Pine Valley Trail.
I’m not a fan of crowds, so I take the long route when I walk the dog. The trail’s wide enough to let my thoughts stretch out, and everything smells of pine needles and wildflowers.
Rover’s tail is wagging a mile a minute, his nose catching every scent in the woods. He’s basically a kid on Christmas morning, constantly sniffing at something new. I can barely keep up as he tugs me along.
“Hold on there, buddy,” I mutter, trying to rein him in a little. “We’ve got all night.”
And then, without warning, he bolts—full speed ahead. I barely have time to call his name before he disappears into the trees.
“Rover!” I shout, already running after him.
This dog’s got more energy than I know what to do with. I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline or the fact that I’m just trying to keep up, but my heart’s racing by the time I get to the clearing.
And there he is. Rover, standing next to a little kid, a boy who looks about five, maybe six, holding onto the leash tightly.
The boy’s got the most serious face on, but there’s something about him. He’s calm and composed for a kid his age.
He seems to know exactly what he’s doing.
I’m ready to call Rover back when I see her. The boy’s mother. And I’m not sure what to make of the sudden feeling that just hits me like a tsunami.
She’s standing a little off to the side, watching Rover and the boy, her arms crossed loosely. She’s not quite sure what to make of me.
There’s something about the way she’s standing that makes my chest tighten. A quiet kind of strength, the kind that doesn’t demand attention but pulls you in anyway.
I take a breath and jog up to them.
“Sorry about that. Rover’s got a habit of running off when he gets excited.”
She turns to face me, and I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s not that. Her eyes—soft brown eyes that remind me of something familiar—meet mine, and I forget how to breathe. Everything shifts, just enough to make my pulse jump.
“It’s fine,” she says, laced with amusement. “He’s a good dog.”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to keep it together. “Yeah, he’s got a bit of a wild streak. Usually it’s not this bad, but when he gets going, he’s impossible to stop.”
The kid’s staring at me now. I’m some kind of spectacle to him, but I’m not worried about him. Not really. I’m more focused on his mother.
“What’s his name?” the kid asks.
“Rover,” I reply with a grin. “He’s a handful, but I can’t complain. He’s good company.”
The kid nods. He’s still holding the leash, though he doesn’t need to. Rover’s taken a liking to him, and that means I don’t have to worry about the kid letting him wander off.
The woman steps closer to Rover, crouching down to let him sniff her hand. She glances back at me, then straightens, offering me a small but warm smile.
“This is Charlie,” she says softly, giving me a slight nod, acknowledging something between us. “And I’m Dakota.”
Dakota?
The Dakota?
I take a step back, trying to shake off the surprise of her name. Reid’s been talking about her nonstop lately, and Clint… well, Clint’s reaction whenever her name comes up is hard to ignore.
There’s been this… tension. Clint’s guarding something, but Reid lets his admiration slip through.
And now here she is, standing right in front of me.
I glance at her again. It’s not just that she’s beautiful, though she definitely is, no denying that. It’s more about how it feels to be around her. Everything’s a little more uncertain, a little more magnetic.
I can see why Reid’s got her on his mind constantly, and why Clint acts like there’s a storm cloud hanging over him whenever anyone brings her up.
But I’m not about to get tangled up in whatever that is. I’m just trying to make sense of the moment. The rest is none of my business.
Still, I notice the way Charlie looks at me. How he holds the leash, as a comfort he doesn’t even need. It’s got this odd calm to it.
It’s his eyes. His deep blue eyes remind me of Clint.
Weird.
“Charlie’s a good name,” I say, trying to focus back on the conversation. “Good to meet you. I’m Sawyer.”
Dakota smiles, but it’s a little distant. “Charlie’s named after my grandfather. He was a man who knew how to take care of things.”
I nod, trying to keep things light, even though I can sense there’s more to her than she’s letting on. “I’m sure he’d be proud. Sounds like a good guy.”
“You might know of him. He lived around here.”
“Charlie Fletcher?” I raise a brow. “He really was a good guy. Sorry you lost him.”
Dakota’s expression flickers, a shadow crossing her face. Then she straightens, her shoulders pulling back as though she’s bracing for something, and I can’t tell if it’s the mention of her grandfather, or something deeper that’s hit her.
The brief vulnerability vanishes just as quickly, replaced by the same guarded calm I noticed when she first stepped into my line of sight.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, though there’s a heaviness behind the words. “He meant a lot to me.”
I nod, not sure if I should press her for more. Some things are best left unsaid. Her posture tells me she’s not one to talk about the past easily, and I respect that. I’m not the kind of guy to push.
“Well, Charlie, looks like you’re doing well with Rover. He adores you.”
“Yeah, well, you do have to give him back, Charlie.” Dakota laughs. “We need to get you to bed soon.”
I glance at the sky, the golden light beginning to fade.
“Sounds like a good plan,” I reply. “Can’t keep the kid up too late, right?”
Dakota laughs softly. “Yeah, he gets a little grumpy if he’s not in bed on time.”
Charlie reluctantly hands Rover over to me, and we say goodbye. But as they start to walk off, the quiet trail enveloping them once more, I stand there and watch them go, a thousand thoughts running through my mind.
The soft crunch of leaves beneath their boots is the only sound in the fading light. Charlie’s small frame slowly recedes into the distance, holding tightly to his mom’s hand as they walk back down the trail.
Rover, now at my side, looks up at me with an almost comical amount of adoration, his tail wagging in wide, slow arcs.
I take a deep breath, feeling the coolness of the evening settle in around me. There’s something about that conversation with Dakota that lingers. Something I can’t quite shake.
I didn’t mean to pry into her past, but it’s hanging above us now, unresolved. I try to push the thoughts out of my mind, but they keep coming back.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull it out, seeing a text from Marshall.
Marshall: Hey man, what’s the deal with your Thanksgiving plans? You gonna be around?
I smile, feeling the familiar comfort of Marshall’s blunt, no-nonsense messages. We’ve known each other for years, and while we technically work on rival ranches, the support is there.
Sawyer: I’ll be with the family, which means there will be a lot of pressure. You know how that goes.
I hit send and lean against a nearby tree, running a hand through my hair. Thanksgiving with my family usually means fielding questions I don’t enjoy answering, but at least I’ll have my younger sister, Maggie, for company.
A moment later, Marshall replies.
Marshall: Man, you’re always welcome at the Friendsgiving at Willow Ranch. It’s usually a lot more relaxed, no pressure. The more the merrier, as they say.
I chuckle to myself, grateful for Marshall’s offer. Willow Ranch is one of the few places where the vibe is easygoing, and the last time I went, I had a damn good time. Marshall always holds it for those who don’t have anywhere else to go.
Sawyer: Thanks, man. I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Sounds like it might be what I need this year.
Marshall: Anytime, brother. Let me know if you’re in. You won’t regret it.
I let out a breath, feeling a little lighter. It’s funny how just the idea of something simple, a gathering with friends, can shift your perspective on the season.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and glance down at Rover, who’s still happily wagging his tail, completely oblivious to the human complexities of family and tradition.
The evening is cooling quickly, the first stars beginning to dot the sky. I should probably get back to the ranch and help Clint with whatever he’s got going on, but for now, I just stand here, watching the last traces of daylight slip away.
The thoughts about Dakota and Charlie are pushed to the back of my mind. For now.