11. Rosalie
CHAPTER 11
ROSALIE
I pull the last of my clothing out of my closet and shove it into the same moving box I pulled it out of just a few weeks ago. It’s been two days since a dozen at-home pregnancy tests confirmed what my body already knew. I’m pregnant.
I’ve spent two days riding an emotional rollercoaster that took me from disbelief through denial and fear, past acceptance, and now, somehow, to excitement. It’s a strange thing, carrying both terror and joy in the same breath. But here I am, clutching onto the one certainty that refuses to be drowned out by doubt.
I’m having Dawson’s baby… and apparently, he’s going to be the last person to find out.
Thank god the man has an aversion to all things cowboy because thanks to our open windows, I’ve officially made the podcast. I have to tell Dawson as soon as possible, but this isn’t the kind of thing you can do over the phone.
The man deserves to hear the life-altering news in person. Besides, there’s something about the thought of him as a father that lights something deep inside me. It’s like a flickering ember of hope waiting to catch fire.
The timing of this pregnancy was a shock, but Dawson and I creating a life together is a picture that I’ve painted in my mind more times than I’d ever admit. Every time I close my eyes I see Dawson cradling a tiny, dark-haired baby with his easy smile and steady hands. The man was born to be a dad. He’s protective, patient, and good.
Of course, the fact that we aren’t exactly speaking at the moment isn’t ideal. And there’s the fact that the last time we were in the same room the air between us was thick with unsaid things and with old wounds that never quite healed.
But still, somehow, I think he’ll be happy. I might be delusional, but it’s the truth.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“How’s the packing going?” Maisie steps into my nearly empty room.
“It’s pretty easy when you don’t start with much to begin with.”
She lets out a laugh. “Make sure you don’t slip my new headphones into that bag… They’re missing.”
I chuckle at her accusation. “Did you check the washing machine? I swear I heard something clicking around in there.”
“Ugh, this is the third pair… I’m losing one per month. Do you want anything? I’m going to make a quick lunch before my next training session. You know what, never mind, I need to feed my niece or nephew. I’m making you something, I’ll leave it on the countertop.”
I shake my head. “Thank you.”
My heart aches. Maisie has been covering my shifts at the stables, stepping in without hesitation, like she always does. The thought of leaving her behind in Texas when we’ve only just started to rebuild our relationship makes my heart lurch. After everything we endured growing up—the loneliness, the weight of surviving in a house that never felt like home—I thought we’d finally carved out something solid, something lasting.
Now that we’re free from the shadows of our childhood, I’d hoped to make her a permanent fixture in my life. Not just stolen weekends and phone calls squeezed between work. Real, everyday life.
And now, with a baby on the way, that pull is even stronger. My child deserves an aunt like Maisie—someone fierce and loving, someone who understands what it means to fight for happiness.
But I can’t do this without Dawson.
So I’m packing my bags for Misty Mountain. And tomorrow, at first light, I’m heading straight back to the man who still holds every piece of my heart—whether he wants them or not.
Two hours later, there’s nothing left to do but wait… and waiting has never been my strong suit.
I’ve eaten the lunch Maisie left me, packed every last thing I might need, and scrubbed the apartment down even though it didn’t need it. Then I wrote Maisie a note thanking her for always being on my side.
For the first time in days, I feel lighter. Clearer.
With my bags by the door and nothing to tether me here anymore, I step outside to soak in these last few moments of life on this ranch. The afternoon sun bathes everything in gold, stretching long, dappled shadows across the fields. The air smells like warm hay and horses, and a part of me aches at the thought of trading this in for snow.
I thought this was it for me. I thought I’d find my place here and set up a future. But my place is with Dawson and he is zero percent rancher and all Misty Mountain Man.
In the distance, a group of farmhands lingers near the farm stand. Their heads angle toward one another, then whip toward me in unison… And that’s my cue to cut a path through the field.
I’d rather not answer any questions for them to dissect. Instead, I give them a wave then veer off course, cutting past Thrusty the goat’s pen. My chances are better with a notoriously horny goat than with a group of ranch hands itching for fresh drama.
I’m almost clear when the distant sound of shouting pulls me up short. The air shifts, tension rippling through the quiet. My gaze snaps toward the open stretch of land, my feet moving before my brain catches up.
There’s a man yelling. And I know my mind must be playing tricks on me… because that voice sounds like Dawson.
As I close the distance, the scene comes into focus. Three of the Kingridge brothers stand outside one of the main houses, their voices loud and taunting. Their postures loose but together they form a mountain of unmistakably aggressive men. They’re not just shouting… they’re heckling.
It’s a sight I’ve come to expect after living here. I bite back a laugh. This time their target is a lone man in a cowboy hat. It isn’t even close to a fair fight. The dude is standing stiff-backed in the middle of it all.
To make matters worse, Choke, the infamous attack chicken, is fully committed to the ambush too. He’s flapping and swooping at the poor guy’s ankles with ruthless precision. Anyone who stumbles onto Kingridge land without an invitation is either leaving with a bruised ego or a solid pecking wound… sometimes both. That poor fool doesn’t stand a chance.
Bits of the conversation drift to me on the breeze in sharp snippets of words… Did old Mayor Randolph send you? He’s just a chicken, walk away from him. That’s what I thought. That hat ain’t even yours. Your name doesn’t start with an E, does it?
But I get closer and things shift into focus and— “What the hell?”
I blink to make sure I’m not seeing things, but it’s true. The man under interrogation is Dawson… My Dawson. And he’s wearing a cowboy hat of all things. “Hey, hey!” I shout and wave my arms at the mob as I pick up the pace. All eyes turn to me. “Stop it, I know him.”
“You know him?” Alexander Kingridge yells back toward me and there's an edge to his voice.
“Rosalie, thank god. These fucking weirdos and their damn rooster are holding me hostage. We would never treat people like this on the mountain. What the fuck, man?”
“Oh, come on now, that ain’t true. You aren’t stuck. Told you we’d let you pass as soon as you can rope a calf, show us that you’ve earned that hat.” Callum Kingridge lets out a whoop.
“No, just toss a horseshoe into the pit. That’s all it’ll take to put this to rest,” another brother adds with a laugh. “Or how about we arm wrestle? You win, I call off my big bad chicken.”
Dawson grits his teeth, ignoring the guys completely and turning to me. “Is it true?” His voice quiets the group.
My eyes widen and I freeze. Is he asking about the pregnancy? Does he already know about the baby? No, he can’t be. “I uh?—”
“Yes, tell us. Is it true that you bought that hat at the gift shop on the way in?” Bowen Kingridge asks, biting back a laugh and the guys erupt into laughter like a bunch of real assholes.
I push through them and stand beside Dawson. “That’s enough—” I start to shout, but the door to the house flies open with a creak.
A curvy blonde woman steps out onto the porch with a hand on her hip. “Y’all get out of here and take the damn rooster with you. Leave them to it. I swear y’all are a bunch of children sometimes.” She turns to face Dawson and me and her face softens. “Excuse them.”
I don’t know who she is, but she seems to speak Kingridge. The guys disperse around us in an instant and Alexander steps into the house, tail between his legs. That must be Cassidy, the mayor’s ex-wife I’ve heard so much about. I’m sure glad she showed up.
When the chaos finally settles, I don’t think… I just move.
I grab Dawson’s hand, threading my fingers through his, and tug him off the path. I lead him into the privacy of the tall golden stalks of the wheat field. I don’t want an audience, all I want is him.
The world narrows to just the two of us. All I hear is the whisper of the wind and the steady drum of my own heartbeat in my ears. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe that after everything, we’ve landed in the same place at the same time and that there is a life growing inside of me… one we made together.
My nerves overtake me. What if he doesn’t want anything to do with this baby? What if I’m wrong? What if this sends him cascading into another plan where he’ll never have time for a child?
I open my mouth to speak and my voice wavers between laughter and disbelief. “Dawson, I… Well for starters, I never imagined seeing you on a farm. And in that hat, it’s a really nice touch. I’m so flustered, I can’t believe this is real. What are you even doing here?”
He ignores my rambling. His chest is rising and falling fast, his breath uneven. We lock eyes and it sends a wave of calm rushing through me. I love this man. I can trust him with this.
When Dawson finally speaks, his voice is rough, thick with something I’ve never quite heard from him before. “Is it true? Are you…?”
His hand tightens around mine, his pulse pounding so hard I swear I can feel it thrum beneath my own skin.
I swallow back the anxiety clawing at my throat. “It’s true.”
The air shifts. Something breaks open between us.
Dawson's eyes shine, filling so fast with tears that stun me. He doesn’t even try to fight it. He lets the tears spill freely and his face is raw with emotion.
“It’s true,” he whispers like he needs to hear it again, to believe it with his whole being. “Holy shit, it’s true.”
His hand drops, sliding gently over my belly. His touch is tentative at first, then firm and more sure. His fingers brush my skin and something inside me unravels.
Tears sweep across my cheeks. “Dawson, I love you so much. Thank you for coming here. I don’t know how you found out but I was on my way to you. I’ve packed up my whole life?—”
“I love you, Rosalie. Nothing was going to keep me from getting to you. I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to have two chances with you,” he says, voice breaking. “But I’m all in. You and this baby are the best things that ever happened to me.”
“I don’t know where we’ll live or how?—”
“I’ve got us covered.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Let me get this damn hat off and show you what I’ve been working on.”