19 | Goin south
CLEMENTINE
“No.” The word slips out before I can stop it. “No, Colton. You don’t get to do this.”
He cocks a brow, arms folding across his chest like he’s challenging me.
“You don’t get to agree to something and then punish me for holding up my end of the deal.”
I step closer, hay crunching under my socks.
“And you sure as hell don’t get to take what you want and then act like you regret it after.”
My finger jabs his chest, emphasizing my words.
“You just made this whole thing feel dirty.”
I snatch the boots from his hands, scoop my sneakers off the floor, and march toward the stairs.
Colton catches up in two strides, his hand closing rough around my arm. “Tiny, wait—”
“Stop calling me that!” I wrench free, but he cuts me off, broad frame blocking the narrow exit.
“I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he growls, dragging his palm down his face like he’s trying to scrape the ache off his skin.
“I just don’t understand how you can stand there actin’ like this is casual. We both tried buryin’ it. Seven years later, the fire is still burnin’ us both alive. You can’t tell me that ain’t fate, Clementine.”
“Fate?” I laugh, sharp. “You say that like this whole thing isn’t a one-way street. Like I wouldn’t be the only one giving up everything I’ve built to make it work. I’m not supposed to fold myself into this life and get smaller because you say it’s written in the stars.”
His jaw ticks. “Smaller? Baby, I ain’t askin’ you to shrink for me. I’m askin’ you to be mine. Don’t matter if you’re here on the ranch, back in the city, or sittin’ on the damn moon. I just want you.”
“Then tell me how that works, Colton.” My voice cuts clean through the dusty air. “What’s the plan? You here, me there—what is it? Weekend sleepovers? Endless phone calls while we worry which one of us falls in love with somebody else first?”
He spits his next words like they taste bitter. “You know damn well I ain’t fallin’ for anyone else, Tiny. I’ve tried—I can’t even get past a first date. I keep comparin’ every woman to you, and none of them hold up.”
My throat tightens, and I try to swallow down the painful lump wedged right behind my voice. “This isn’t built on anything solid, Colt. Even back then… we were just two kids trying to outrun our grief. We spent a few months escaping—distracting each other from things we didn’t want to feel.”
The second the words leave me, I hate them. They don’t even sound true.
Colton’s jaw flexes, but his eyes soften like he knows exactly what I’m doing.
“You keep doin’ this—boilin’ it down to somethin’ dry because it’s easier to remember it that way. You erase the part that was real ’cause it don’t fit your tidy story, but you don’t get to rewrite history just because the truth feels big.”
I swallow, brows knitting. “What truth?”
“You damn well know we dated,” he says, voice low and steady, no bite in it—just honesty. “Maybe we kept it quiet, maybe we were a mess, but I treated you like my girl. You just kept pretendin’ it wasn’t real ’cause you were terrified it could actually become somethin’ big.”
I sift through the fog of memory—drive-ins where he angled the truck so no one would see us, those quiet walks with our fingers brushing because we were both too shy to grab on—and the truth lands like a soft, painful thud in my chest.
“We went out,” I whisper. “But we never would’ve been able to make it work anyway, with you being Tessa’s brother and all…” The words crumble, falling to the floor between us and finding their place in the dust.
His expression gentles, something warm flickering there. “Clem,” he sighs. “You had nothin’ to prove to my sister. She’s the one who betrayed you.”
I rub my arms, swallowing the ache. “I know—but that didn’t make it any easier. She was my person. Going behind her back with you… that went against everything.” I look away, voice thinning as I speak again. “I was protecting her from more hurt.”
He steps closer, eyes gentle as he snakes his arm around my waist and tugs me closer. “You weren’t protecting her,” he murmurs into my hair. “You were protectin’ yourself. ’Cause you knew we were the real deal. ’Cause it mattered.”
Something cracks open inside of me. “You keep acting like I’m some kind of runaway bride, Colton, while you barely even acknowledged my existence until that one night.
He jerks his chin at me. “You were the one with a boyfriend you didn’t love.”
The words hit a nerve. “Why would you say that?” I snap.
He tips his head back. “Go on then. Tell me you loved him.”
I bristle. “I’m not playin’ your games, Colton.”
“Just say it, Tiny.”
“You’re such an asshole.” It comes out messy and useless.
Colton’s gaze burns hot as fire. “Should it be this hard to say you loved your boyfriend?”
My stomach sours, and I press my lips together.
“Tell me the real reason you didn’t sleep with him, baby.”
My eyes sting, and I look away, blinking hard.
He softens then—his hard edge feathering. His hand cups my face, thumb stroking under my eye. “Sorry. I pushed too far.”
I don’t meet his gaze. I won’t let him see the small crack opening up inside me.
His hands find my waist, haul me into him until I’m pressed against the solid heat of his chest. For a moment I think I might break. His heartbeat is steady against my ear, and I cling to it like a lifeline.
“I was just waitin’ my turn,” he murmurs into my hair, his breath hot against my scalp. “I’ve loved you, Clem. For years. Never stopped, either.”
A thousand needles pierce my heart, slowly ripping at the seams of my reality.
For a second, I try to fight it, but then I give in, wrapping my arms around his broad torso and breathing him in.
When I’ve calmed myself down enough to trust my voice again, I try to speak. “I just don’t belong out here, Colton.”
He stiffens, then pulls back enough to look at me. “Bullshit.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “Look at yourself, baby. Don’t tell me this isn’t where you belong.”
“I’m just not—” I start.
“Clementine—I swear to God—if you say you’re not cut out to be a farm wife one more time, I’m gonna spank you.”
A watery smile tugs at my lips. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Colton grins, then kisses my forehead. “Later. I’m takin’ you somewhere first.”
Then he turns, boots thumping down the steps as he drags me downstairs.
----
Muffled cursing drifts from the barn as we pass, pulling both our heads toward the sound. Inside, Wells is on his knees in the straw, bent over something small.
I notice it in Colton first—the shift in his shoulders, the way his whole body goes still. He drops my arm and crosses into the pen without a word, crouching beside Wells.
“How long?” he asks.
“A while.” Wells tips his chin at whatever they’re looking at.
My heartbeat jumps. “What?”
Colton glances back at me over his shoulder, jaw tight. “Wait outside, baby.”
I bristle, huffing. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
He shakes his head, voice low and solemn. “You don’t wanna see this, darlin’.”
Of course, I push closer.
A mother cow lies on her side in the straw, sides heaving. Next to her is a calf, still slick with fluid, but utterly still. My steps falter. A cold, eerie hush sweeps over me.
I drop to my knees and reach out, hand trembling, but Colton catches it and pulls it back, firm. “She’s gone, Tiny.”
My chest tightens, throat locking up. “What? How?”
Wells studies my face like he’s deciding how much truth I can take. “She just wasn’t meant to stay, Clem.”
“Don’t give me that,” I snap, sharp through the lump in my throat. “Why is she dead? What happened? Did something go wrong?”
Wells shakes his head. “Eyes are cloudy. She’d been gone a while. Nothin’ we could’ve done.”
The lump swells into a jagged stone inside my throat, tears burning hot behind my eyes. “What about the mama?”
Colton slides his palm across my back, steady and warm. “She’ll grieve, but she’ll be alright.”
“She just lost her baby,” I whisper, voice breaking.
“Loss comes with the land,” Wells says, dry but not unkind. “It takes what it takes. Nothin’ to be done about it.”
The words scrape raw, but the sight of the cow nosing that small, still heap of wet fur splits me clean open. Tears slip free before I can stop them.
Colton rises slowly, then pulls me up with him. “Come here, girl. Let’s take a walk.”
I stumble out beside him, vision blurred, heat and dust swallowing me whole. His arm slides around my waist, steadying me as we go.
I wipe at my cheeks, sucking in a shaky breath. “I forgot that was even a possibility.”
“Don’t happen often, thank God,” he says. His voice is soft but steady. “You holdin’ up, baby?”
I glance up at him, throat tight. “Yeah, I just—I feel so bad for them. I wish there was something we could’ve done.”
His hand comes up, thumb brushing my jaw. “You feel deep. That’s a rare thing, Clementine. A pretty thing.”
For a moment, the world narrows to just his eyes on mine. Then a sharp buzz cuts between us.
I fumble my phone from the pocket of my tied-up shirt, frown at the number. “Sorry—it’s work.”
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Clementine Holliday?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Christine Johnson from Brentstone Publishing, I’m with HR. I’m so sorry to bother you on your break, but I didn’t want you to miss this. There’s a big opportunity opening up.”
My heartbeat skips. I glance at Colton, who’s still watching me, brow furrowed. “What kind of opportunity?”
A pause on the line. Then: “Our head editor just turned in her notice. We’re opening interviews next week, and your name’s already being floated. We’d like you to come in.”
----
Oh my gooood, what an opportunity!! That definitely complicates things further, right? ??