Chapter 21
The moment I hit send, a rush of adrenaline sweeps through me, leaving me shaky, breathless.
I set my phone down on the bench beside me, folding my hands in my lap like that will somehow keep me from grabbing it every two seconds. I stare out across the cemetery, the gravestones blurring through the mist in my eyes.
Minutes pass.
Then an hour.
And nothing happens. No reply. No phone call. No sign that he wants me to come back.
My heart sinks a little lower with every tick of the second hand on my watch.
Maybe he’s furious. Maybe he’s hurt. Maybe he’s moved on already. The ugly thoughts creep in, sinking their claws into the soft, vulnerable parts of me I thought I’d armored up.
By the time the sun starts to dip low behind the trees, painting everything in gold and shadow, my hope is barely hanging on by a thread. I wipe my eyes, shove my phone into my pocket, and stand.
Maybe I said too much. Maybe I didn’t say enough. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.
That night, curled up in my childhood bed, I turn my phone face-down on the nightstand, refusing to look. I try to sleep. I really do. But every creak of the house, every sigh of the wind outside, feels too loud. Too hollow.
I’m just starting to drift off, the weight of exhaustion finally winning, when the soft buzz of a text vibrates against the wood.
My heart leaps into my throat.
I snatch the phone up, my hands trembling, and there it is:
I’m sorry, too.
I haven’t stopped thinking about you.
Or the way it all fell apart.
What are you doing up so late?
Hard to sleep when the bed is so empty.
I know the feeling.
What are you doing up?
Pretending like I wasn’t waiting for my former boss to text me.
Boss? Is that all I am to you?
Hard to say. My boss wouldn’t have just let me walk away. But neither would my boyfriend…
Touche.
I really am sorry for that. It’s not an excuse, but I was in my head and let my dad get to me.
The thing is, he made some good points.
About me?
About me.
How I’m scared to need anyone.
How I always find a way to screw up the good things in my life.
You didn’t screw up, Liam. We both let it fall apart.
Maybe.
But I should’ve fought harder for you.
I should’ve made you feel like you were worth fighting for.
You did.
Until you didn’t.
Olive...
I think about you every damn day.
About the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching.
The way you smelled like sunshine and soap after feeding the calves.
The way you made that house feel like home without even trying.
You made it feel like home for me, too.
Then why does it feel like I burned it all to the ground?
Because love isn’t just about staying when it’s easy.
It’s about choosing each other when it’s hard, too.
I never stopped choosing you.
I just didn’t know how to show it.
But I want to.
If you’ll let me.
How, Liam?
How do we go back after everything?
We don’t go back.
We start over.
I don’t know. I’m so tired that it’s hard to think about anything right now.
Then rest, honey. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.
It sounds too easy. Too good to be true, but I can’t deny that I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
The next morning I wake up to a good morning text from Liam, which I reply to.
There’s also a text from Phern.
Phern Stone
Where in the hell are you and why does my cousin look like someone killed Old Yeller again?
Good morning to you, too.
I’m in Wichita.
And I have no idea why Liam’s upset.
Did you two break up?
It’s complicated.
So that’s a yes.
Please don’t tell me it’s because of my dumbass uncle?
…
Nooooo
Don’t let that fool ruin your relationship!
My phone rings a moment later, buzzing in my hand like it knows I’m not ready. Phern Stone, flashes across the screen.
I hesitate for a second before answering. “Hello?”
“You’re seriously going to let my uncle ruin everything?” she demands, not even a hello.
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. “Like I said. It’s complicated.”
“What happened?” Her voice is laced with frustration and confusion. “I thought everything was fine. You two went to Texas, sealed the deal, came back. Then, poof, you’re gone.”
“I quit,” I admit, the word heavy but oddly freeing. “Took a new job here in Wichita.”
“With who?” she asks sharply.
I laugh; the first real sound of amusement I’ve felt all day. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Ranching’s a very small world, Olive. I’ll find out one way or another.”
“I don’t doubt that.” I say. “But it’s mine now. I need something that’s just for me.”
Phern is quiet for a beat. “He misses you, you know.”
I don’t answer. Because missing me was never the problem. It was not appreciating me when I was right in front of him.
“How are things there?” I ask, needing to shift the conversation before the weight of it crushes me.
“Good.” Phern’s voice lightens a little. “My brother and his fiancée are about to drive me crazy with all the wedding prep. I’ll be glad when it’s finally over.”
I smile, but it’s a hollow thing. My chest tightens because deep down, I know I won’t be there to see it.
“I’m sure you’re handling it like a pro,” I say, trying to sound teasing, trying to sound normal.
She huffs a dry laugh. “Something like that.”
There’s a pause that’s long enough for the air between us to shift again, heavy and knowing.
“Are you really going to leave him?” she asks, her voice softer now. Almost like she’s afraid of the answer.
I close my eyes, the words lodging in my throat.
But when I finally speak, it’s the truth.
“I think so.”
There’s a long stretch of silence on the line, so long I wonder if she’s hung up.
Then, softly, Phern says, “I just don’t want you to leave and wonder for the rest of your life if you gave up too soon.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead like that will somehow stop the ache building there.
“You two aren’t perfect,” she continues, her voice thick. “God knows you both screw up. But I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
I swallow hard, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to ease the lump in my throat.
“And I’ve never seen you fight for anything the way you fought for him,” she finishes. “Even when you didn’t think you were.”
Tears slip free before I can stop them.
“I don’t know if fighting for him will fix it,” I whisper.
“Maybe not,” she says. “But you’re the only one he’d ever fight for.”
I don’t know what to say. So I take the coward’s way out.
“I have to go,” I mumble, the words tumbling out too fast. “I’ll text you later.”
I end the call before Phern can protest or before she can say something else that might crack me wide open.
The phone slips from my hand, landing on the bed with a dull thud. I sit there, staring at nothing, trying to figure out what the hell I even want anymore.
I left for Wyoming a year after Opal passed away.
I was nineteen, my grief still raw and clawing at my insides.
I don’t even remember picking Business as my major.
I just moved. Breathed. Checked all the boxes I thought I was supposed to check, living for both of us because the thought of living just for myself felt too heavy to bear.
I made friends. I dated. I went to parties.
I laughed when I was supposed to laugh and smiled when it was expected.
But none of it ever really felt like mine.
Not until I started working for Liam. That ranch, the long days and dirty boots, the way the cattle moved through the pens, the sunburnt evenings…
it was the first thing that made my blood stir again.
The first time I didn’t feel like I was sleepwalking through my own life.
But Liam. God, Liam. He never really saw me.
Not the way I wanted him to. He saw how I could help him reach Amber.
He saw how I could help run the ranch, keep the books straight, handle the headaches no one else wanted.
He saw my usefulness. My loyalty. My reliability.
But did he ever see me? Was he ever there for me?
Is he even there now, or is he just chasing the version of me that made his life easier?
The questions hit harder than anything Phern said.
And the worst part is I don’t know if I want the answers.
I don’t text Liam for the rest of the weekend. I think about it more than I want to admit. I reread our messages until the words blur. But in the end, I say nothing.
On Monday morning, I load my suitcase into Mom’s car and head out before the sun is fully up. The sky is streaked with soft pinks and purples, the kind of quiet morning that feels like a clean slate.
The road to Connie’s ranch feels less foreign this time, like I’m not just driving to something—I’m driving into something. Maybe not a forever, but at least a beginning.
When I pull up, Connie’s already there, standing by the barn with a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a crooked smile on her weathered face.
“Well, girlie,” she says, lifting the mug in greeting, “let’s get to work.”
Her voice is steady. No-nonsense. Exactly what I need. I square my shoulders and smile back, the rising sun catching the edges of my resolve.
“Let’s do it.”
And just like that, I step into a new rhythm. One that doesn’t include Liam. At least not for now.
The days fall into pattern.
I wake before the sun, drink the strongest coffee known to man, and hit the dirt with the rest of the crew.
My hands are already rougher than they’ve ever been, nails short, knuckles cracked, but I don’t care.
I learn the fencing layout fast, figure out which gates like to stick, which calves are little escape artists.
Connie doesn’t coddle. She barks, points, expects me to keep up and I do. I work the chute line like I was born in it, tagging ears, giving shots, hauling bags of feed like I’ve got something to prove. And maybe I do.
By the end of the first week, one of the guys calls me Wyoming, and it sticks. The second week, someone brings me a thermos of sweet tea during break. By the third, Connie claps me on the back after a long, blistering day and grunts, “You’re a damn natural, girlie.”
I smile. It feels good. It feels earned.
Not to mention what I’ve already done on the business side of the ranch. New website, merchandise store, and so much more. All up and running. Connie keeps bragging that her sales have never been this high, and this is only the beginning.
During the day, I don’t think about him.
Not really. The ranch keeps me busy, my body sore in ways that keep my heart quiet.
There’s something healing in the work; in knowing I’m building something with my own hands.
But when night falls? That’s when it hits.
I lie in the twin bed up in the apartment above the garage, staring at the ceiling fan, the sheets cool against my skin, and I miss him.
God, I miss him.
I miss the rasp of Liam’s voice in the morning. The way he always smelled like cattle and cedar dust. The way he’d hand me coffee without a word like I was the only person in the world worth waking up for.
Sometimes I scroll our old texts, rereading the stupid banter, the soft moments tucked between sarcasm and flirtation. My thumb hovers over his name more than once.
But I never text. Never call.
Not even when the ache feels unbearable.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’m fine. That this is what I wanted. That I’m building a life that belongs to me now.
But every night I fall asleep with my heart somewhere in Wyoming. Reaching for him.
One month goes by in a blur. Then two. Then three.
I fall into the rhythm of the ranch, and time stops feeling linear. Days blend into each other, sunrises bleeding into sunsets, my boots caked with dirt, my hands always busy. The ache for Liam dulls, settling into something quieter. Not gone. Just folded into the background.
And then I get the surprise of my life.
I sit on the edge of the exam table, paper crinkling beneath me, still sweaty from a full morning of work. I only came in because Connie threatened to drag me here herself if I didn’t figure out what was messing with my appetite and energy.
The doctor glances at her screen, then turns to me with a soft smile. “Pregnant.”
I blink. “Pregnant?” The word doesn’t feel real in my mouth. “Are you sure?”
She nods, warm and unshaken. “Positive.”
It hits me like a freight train. My mouth opens. Closes. Then a laugh slips out, wet and disbelieving.
The baby-making room. Jesus. That’s when we conceived. I cover my mouth with my hand as emotion bubbles up, a shaky laugh breaking through. Of course. Of course that’s how this story was going to go.
But the doctor isn’t finished.
“Would you like to hear their heartbeats?”
Their.
I go still. “Them?” My heart stutters. “There’s more than one?”
She turns the screen, her voice gentle, like she knows the floor is about to fall out from under me. “Twins.”
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
Twins.
Liam’s babies.
Our babies.
And he doesn’t know.
I nod, barely breathing, and the doctor presses a button on the machine. The room fills with a rhythmic, galloping sound—fast, strong, steady.
“This is Baby A,” she says, pointing to one tiny flickering form on the screen. “And this is Baby B.”
Tears stream silently down my face. I can’t stop them. I don’t even try. My hand goes to my stomach, and for the first time, it means something.
Oh my god. I’m going to be a mother. Their mother. The doctor keeps talking, something about dates and follow-ups and nutrition, but I’m not listening.
My mind is already a thousand miles away.
I need to get to Wyoming. Today.
By the time I walk out of the clinic, I’ve already called Connie, letting her know I won’t be back for the rest of the week.
She doesn’t ask questions. Just says, “Take care of what you need to, girlie.”
An hour later, I have a flight booked. I don’t even have a bag. Just my nerves and my news to be my companion on this last-minute flight.
At the airport, I find a quiet seat near my gate and text my mom.
Mom
Hey, something came up. I’ll call you when I land in Wyoming. Love you.
Then I open the thread with Liam… the one I haven’t touched in three months. I stare at the blinking cursor, my fingers trembling as I type.
Laim
Hey. I’m coming back to Wyoming tonight. Can we talk?
His reply is instant.
Yes.