Chapter 2
Chapter two
This Was a Mistake
Riley
Ishouldn’t have come, the thought hits hard and immediate, settling deep in my chest as the silence stretches out across the ranch in a way that feels too loud and too exposed.
There’s nowhere to hide out here, no walls, no quick exit that doesn’t feel like running, and I don’t run when it matters.
Hadley’s small hand is still wrapped in mine, her fingers warm and trusting as she stands close at my side, completely unaware of the way my world is teetering on the edge of something I can’t control anymore.
I told myself I was ready for this, that I’d say it, get it over with, and walk away knowing I did the right thing. But standing here with him looking at her like that, like the ground just shifted under his feet.
I can feel every carefully built wall inside me starting to crack in a way I didn’t expect.
I swallow hard and force myself to stay steady, even as his silence stretches longer than I expected.
He’s still staring at her, not at me, at her, and something about that hits deeper than it should.
I tighten my grip on Hadley’s hand just a little, grounding myself in the one thing that’s always been certain in my life, because everything I’ve done, every choice I’ve made, every place I’ve left behind has been for her.
I don’t regret that, not for a second, but standing here now I can’t ignore the weight of what I’ve just done.
I brought her into his world, a world that looks nothing like the one I’ve built for her, full of dust and heat and noise and men who live hard and don’t apologize for it.
A world that feels dangerous in a way I can’t control.
My gaze flicks back to him, taking him in properly this time.
He’s exactly how I remember and nothing like it all at once.
Older. Rougher around the edges. Broader through the shoulders, like the years have settled into him instead of passing him by, and still drop dead gorgeous.
There’s a steadiness to him now that I don’t remember.
But it doesn’t change the first thing I thought when I saw him, that he’s reckless and unpredictable. The kind of man who doesn’t stay in one place long enough to build anything that lasts. The kind of man I told myself I’d never trust with something this important.
My chest tightens at that, but I don’t let it show.
Because I didn’t come here to trust him. I came here because he had a right to know, and that’s it, nothing more.
Hadley shifts beside me, her attention still locked on him. Her curiosity outweighing any sense of caution I wish she had right now.
“Mommy,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, her voice soft and curious. “Is that him?”
The question lands like a direct hit. I close my eyes for half a second, just enough to steady myself before I look down at her.
She’s watching him like she’s already decided he’s important, like something in her recognizes him in a way I don’t fully understand, and that terrifies me more than anything else.
I kneel down in front of her, straightening her dress, buying myself a second to choose my words carefully.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, keeping my voice even, even though everything inside me is anything but. “That’s him.”
Her eyes light up just a fraction, something warm and hopeful flickering there before she looks back at him.
I follow her gaze, my stomach tightening all over again.
Because he’s still staring.
Still trying to process something that I’ve had five years to come to terms with.
And I don’t know what he’s going to do with it.
That’s the part I couldn’t prepare for, not the drive out here or the moment I said the words, but this, the waiting and the unknown.
I rise back to my feet slowly, keeping Hadley close, my hand settling on her shoulder in a way that’s more for me than it is for her.
I can feel the other men watching, their attention sharp, protective in a way that makes it clear this isn’t just his space.
It’s theirs.
A family.
A unit. All in Shock.
And I just walked straight into the middle of it and changed everything.
The realization settles heavy in my chest, but I don’t back down from it.
I can’t.
Because leaving now would mean taking the easy way out, and I didn’t come this far for easy.
I draw in a slow breath and lift my chin, forcing myself to meet his eyes again.
Whatever happens next, I’m not backing away from it.
Not for me.
And definitely not for her.
Behind me, the truck sits like a reminder that I could still leave.
That I could take Hadley, drive back into town, and pretend this moment never happened.
But I don’t move.
Because deep down, I know that’s not an option anymore.
Not after today, not after him, and not after the way Hadley is already looking at him.
Like he might be something she’s been missing without even knowing it.
That’s what scares me the most, because if he lets her down, I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix that.
I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for giving him the chance to.
My first instinct is to put distance between him and her, even if it’s only a step, even if it’s only in the way I angle my body so I’m standing just a little more in front of Hadley than beside her.
Everything about this place feels open and unpredictable, and everything about him feels like the kind of risk I’ve spent five years avoiding.
Up close, it’s easier to see the details I missed from a distance.
The dust clinging to his jeans, the worn leather of his gloves, the way he carries himself like nothing out here is unfamiliar or out of his control. That confidence should be reassuring, but it isn’t, not when it’s paired with the kind of life I know he lives.
Rodeo.
The word sits heavy in my mind, bringing with it a rush of memories I haven’t let myself linger on in years.
Late nights under bright arena lights, the sound of the crowd, the edge of danger that never quite fades, and the man standing in front of me now fits right back into that world without hesitation.
That’s the problem.
Men like him don’t slow down.
They don’t settle.
They chase the next ride, the next win, the next rush that keeps them from thinking too hard about what happens when it all stops.
I’ve seen it before, up close enough to know how it ends, and I made a promise to myself the day I found out I was pregnant. I wouldn’t build my daughter’s life on something that unstable.
My gaze flicks to Hadley again, taking in the way she’s watching him with open curiosity, completely untouched by the kind of caution that comes with experience. I feel that protective instinct rise fast and sharp in my chest.
She doesn’t know what this world is.
She doesn’t know what it can take.
And I don’t know if he does either.
I lift my chin slightly, forcing my focus back to him. To the man who’s still trying to process what I just told him, and I can see the shift happening in real time. The way his expression tightens, the way his attention keeps pulling back to her like he can’t quite stop it.
There’s something there.
Something that doesn’t fit the version of him I remember.
“You ride,” I say, my voice steady, even though it’s not really a question.
His gaze flicks back to me, sharp and focused now, like I’ve pulled him out of whatever’s running through his head. “Yeah.”
That single word confirms everything I already knew, and it settles in my chest like a warning I can’t ignore.
“How often?” I ask, keeping my tone even, controlled, like this is just information I need and nothing more.
There’s a brief pause, just enough to tell me he knows what I’m getting at. “Enough.”
Not reassuring.
Not even close.
I nod once, more to myself than to him, letting that answer sit where it belongs.
“Bull riding,” I add, my gaze holding his, making sure he understands I’m not guessing.
His jaw tightens just slightly, but he doesn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
Of course it is.
The most dangerous version of an already dangerous life.
I let out a slow breath, forcing down the immediate push to shut this down before it even has a chance to start. I didn't come here to make decisions based on fear, even if every instinct I have is telling me that’s exactly what I should do.
“I don’t like it,” I say, honest and direct, because there’s no point pretending otherwise. “Not for me, and definitely not for her.”
His expression shifts again at that, something flickering there that I can’t quite read, but I don’t stop.
I ease a breath out and keep my tone even, letting the edge fall away before I speak.
“We were in Austin,” I say. It feels simpler to start there, with facts instead of everything that sits behind them.
“I had a counseling position at an elementary school, and it was steady, it was safe, and it was enough for us.”
My fingers brush lightly over Hadley’s shoulder, more reassurance than restraint.
“My aunt passed away a few months ago, and I came back to River Bend to help my mom take over some of the work she used to do with the kids here.
This isn't supposed to be permanent, just long enough to get things settled.”
I meet his eyes and hold them, not pushing, just making sure he hears me. “But being back made it harder to ignore this,” I add, my voice quieter but steady. “Harder to pretend you didn’t exist, or that she didn’t deserve to know where she came from.”
Hadley shifts beside me, her attention still fixed on him, and I feel that familiar pull to protect and to do right by her at the same time.
“So I came out here,” I continue, keeping it simple, keeping it honest. “Not to change anything about your life, and not to ask for anything you’re not willing to give, but because you deserved to know, and she deserved to meet you.”
I draw in a breath and add what I should’ve said first. “I’m Riley. Riley Grant. And this is Hadley.” I glance down at her, softening for a second. “Hadley Grant.”