5. Clay
CHAPTER FIVE
Clay
I don’t sleep much the night before I leave.
But not because anything’s wrong. Everything’s fine.
Better than fine, actually. The ranch is normal, Hailey’s healthy, and Nash hasn’t passed out from exhaustion yet, which is a win. Boone’s got everything under control as always. Dallas is… Dallas. Quiet, solid, exactly where he’s supposed to be.
Everything’s good, and I still can’t breathe.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, hands behind my head, listening to the house settle into the kind of quiet that only comes after a long day. Every now and then, I catch the soft cry of the baby down the hall.
By the time the sun’s properly up, I’m already dressed, bag packed, boots on. I don’t make a big deal of it. Never have. No point dragging things out.
Still, I pause at the door, catch my breath, then step out into the hall.
The kitchen’s already alive.
Mom’s at the stove again as if she never left it, Boone’s leaning against the counter with a coffee, Faith’s got Brooklyn on her hip, and Rose is wrangling Wyatt away from something he definitely shouldn’t be touching.
“Morning,” I say.
Mom turns first, her eyes flicking over me, noting everything without saying it out loud. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Boone glances at the bag slung over my shoulder. “Heading out?”
I nod once. “Yeah. Time to get back to it, you know?”
Dallas exhales through his nose. “Figured.”
Mom doesn’t say anything right away. Just turns back to the stove, flipping food in the pan to distract her.
“Eat first,” she says finally.
“Alright.”
I drop my bag by the door and grab a seat at the table.
I don’t miss the way Rose’s expression softens. Or how Faith shifts just enough to make space for me as if it’s automatic.
That’s the thing about this place: there’s always space, even if you’re desperate to run in the other direction, to seek out adventure anywhere other than Buckhorn.
A plate lands in front of me a second later.
“Eat,” Mom repeats. “You can’t leave here hungry.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
I eat because it’s easier than talking.
Because if I start talking, someone’s going to ask me to stay a little longer, or at least make it an option. And I don’t do well with options. Never have. I either go, or I don’t. There’s no in between that doesn’t end with me crawling out of my own skin.
“So,” Faith says lightly, bouncing Brooklyn a little when he starts fussing. “Where to this time?”
“Montana first,” I say around a bite. “Then wherever the circuit takes me.”
Wyatt pops up beside me. “Are you riding bulls again?”
I glance down at him. “That’s the plan.”
He nods, serious as anything. “You’re gonna win.”
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agrees eagerly.
“Alright then,” I murmur. “Guess I better not let you down.”
Across the table, Boone watches me. “You got everything you need?”
“Yes, Big Brother,” I tease.
Mom finally turns from the stove, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She steps closer, not saying anything, just looking at me properly now. “You take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
Her mouth presses thin at that, deciding whether to argue it. She doesn’t. Just reaches out, straightens the collar of my shirt as she used to when I was a kid. “You don’t have to run so hard all the time, Clay.”
I let out a breath, shifting slightly. “I’m not running.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Just… be careful.”
I nod once. “I will.”
The goodbyes aren’t dramatic because that’s not how we do things.
Boone claps me on the shoulder. Dallas gives me a nod that means more than most people would think. Faith smiles, Rose hugs me quick, Wyatt nearly tackles me again, and even Nash manages a tired grin with Hailey tucked against his chest.
I grab my bag. “See you.”
And I mean it, even if I don’t know when.
Buckhorn looks different in the morning light when you’re leaving it. Quieter. It’s already settling back into itself now that I’m on my way out.
Good.
That’s how it should be.
I roll down Main Street, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against my thigh. The town’s already awake. Trucks parked outside the diner. Someone sweeping the sidewalk. The usual rhythm.
I should just keep driving.
Instead, I slow as Buttercup Bakery comes into view.
I don’t even think about it, just pull over. It’d be criminal to leave without one baked good for the ride.
The bell above the door jingles when I step inside, and the smell hits me immediately. Sugar, cinnamon, warm and baked fresh.
“Morning,” Clara calls from behind the counter.
“Morning.”
“Heading out?” she asks, as if she already knows.
“Something like that.”
She hums, already reaching for a paper bag. “You look like you need something for the road.”
“I look like that, do I?”
“Mm hm. Hungry and a little bit restless.”
I snort under my breath. “You got all that from one look?”
“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, honey.”
“Fair enough.”
I lean against the counter, glancing around while she packs up.
And then the bell catches my attention.
Since I know it’s likely to be a face I recognize, I turn to see who’s joining us…
Really?
“Josie?”
She stops near the window with a small box in her hands. There’s a tension in her shoulders, though.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth.
Well… that’s interesting.
I push off the counter.
“Didn’t think I was going to get the chance to see you again.”
A flash of embarrassment immediately crosses her face. Her spine straightens, pulling herself back together piece by piece. “Hi, Clay. You’re still in town.”
“Not for long. I’m just about to head to the circuit.”
“Right,” she says. “Of course.”
I tilt my head slightly. “You gonna pretend you didn’t hide from me the other day?”
Her face flames bright red. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was busy.”
I grin. “You were behind a building.”
Her lips press together, and I think she’s gonna shut this down completely. Until she caves. “Alright, that might have been a tactical retreat.”
I laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Can you blame me?” she says, glancing away briefly. “It’s a small town. Running into you in broad daylight felt… unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” I echo.
She looks back at me, dry. “Highly.”
She’s different today. Still guarded, still controlled, but she’s not pretending that night didn’t happen.
“Didn’t seem unfortunate at the time,” I say.
Her breath catches. “Context matters.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
I lean a little closer, just enough to feel the shift in her space. “So what’s the context now?”
Her fingers tighten slightly around the box she’s holding. “You’re leaving. Which means whatever that was stays simple.”
I nod slowly. “Simple.”
“That was the agreement.”
“Was it?” I murmur.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth for half a second before she catches herself. “Yes.”
I let that sit for a beat. Then I step back, easy, giving her room again. “Alright, simple it is.”
She blinks. She didn’t expect me to let it go that easily.
Clara clears her throat behind the counter, sliding a bag toward me. “Your order, cowboy.”
I grab it, but my eyes stay on Josephine. “You got a number?”
She stills. “That doesn’t sound very simple.”
“Just in case.” I shrug.
She hesitates. I can see it happening in real time, the logic versus impulse. The same push and pull I felt the night we met.
Then she sighs, reaching into her pocket for her phone.
“Fine,” she says. “But this doesn’t mean anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She hands it to me.
I type my number in, send myself a text, then give it back.
Our fingers brush, and sparks fly. Damn, she really is something else.
“Safe travels,” she says, softer now.
I nod once. “Try not to hide from me next time.”
Her eyes flick up. “No promises.”
I grin. “Fair.”
I grab my pastry and head for the door, pushing it open, the bell jingling overhead. I don’t look back, but I feel that she’s still watching me, which means there’s still some fun to be had.