Chapter 10
CAILTIN
I heard about the town meeting before my first cup of coffee was finished.
Doc Peterson called me Wednesday morning, his voice a mixture of amusement and concern. "Your rancher friend made quite an impression last night."
"My what?"
"Blaine Hartley. Walked right up to Vernon Cole after the meeting, introduced himself, and basically told him to go to hell." Doc chuckled. "Politely, of course. But everyone knew what he meant."
I set down my coffee mug. "He confronted Cole? Directly?"
"Shook his hand, looked him in the eye, and made it clear Sierra Sol isn't for sale. Cole didn't know what to do with himself. I don't think anyone's stood up to him like that in years."
My heart was doing something complicated—half proud, half terrified. "That was either very brave or very stupid."
"Probably both. But I'll tell you something, Caitlin. This town needs more people willing to stand up to Vernon Cole. Most folks around here just keep their heads down and hope he doesn't notice them."
"And now Blaine's got a target on his back."
"He already had one. At least now Cole knows he's not dealing with someone who scares easy."
After I hung up, I sat at my kitchen table for a long time, staring at my phone.
I should text him. Make sure he was okay. Tell him to be careful—though I'd already said that a dozen times and it didn't seem to be sinking in.
Instead, I called Jess.
"It's seven-thirty in the morning," she answered, her voice groggy. "Someone better be dying."
"He confronted Cole. At a town meeting. In front of everyone."
A pause. Then: "Horse Boy?"
"His name is Blaine."
"Right, right. So he went full cowboy hero? Stood up to the villain in front of the whole town?"
"Apparently."
"That's hot."
"Jess."
"I'm just saying! A man who stands up for what's right, defends his family legacy, isn't afraid of the local crime boss?—"
"Cole isn't a crime boss. He's a... land developer. With questionable ethics."
"A villain. That's what I said." Jess yawned. "So what's the problem? Your guy did something brave and principled. Why do you sound worried?"
"Because Cole is dangerous. People who cross him have accidents. Bad luck. Their ranches mysteriously fail." I rubbed my forehead. "I don't want Blaine to get hurt."
"Because he's your client?"
"Because I—" I stopped.
"Because you what?"
"You know what."
"I want to hear you say it."
I closed my eyes. "Because I care about him. More than I should. More than makes sense for someone I've known less than a month."
"There it is." Jess's voice softened. "Cait, honey. You're allowed to have feelings. Even messy, complicated, inconvenient feelings."
"I have a boyfriend."
"Do you, though?"
It was the same question she'd asked before. And I still didn't have a good answer.
"Preston texted me last night," I said. "While I was driving home from Blaine's on Saturday."
"What did he say?"
"'Miss you.' Two words. After not calling all day like he promised."
"And what did you say back?"
I was quiet for a moment. "Nothing. I haven't responded."
"It's been four days."
"I know."
"Caitlin Marie Miller. You haven't responded to your boyfriend in four days?"
"I don't know what to say to him." My voice cracked slightly. "Every time I try to compose a response, it feels... hollow. Like I'm going through the motions of a relationship that's already over."
Jess was quiet for a long moment. "Then maybe it is."
"Maybe."
"You need to talk to him, Cait. Really talk. Not texts and emojis and 'talk soon.' An actual conversation about where this is going."
"I know."
"And you need to figure out what you want. Not what's easy or what makes sense on paper. What you actually want."
I thought about Blaine. About the way he'd looked at me Saturday night when he said he'd wait. About the way he'd thrown himself into saving his family's ranch despite knowing nothing about horses. About the way he carried carrots in his pocket and talked to Cisco like the horse was his therapist.
I thought about Preston. About heart emojis and missed calls and "that's great, babe."
"I think I already know what I want," I said quietly. "I'm just scared to admit it."
"Scared of what?"
"What if I'm wrong? What if I blow up my whole life for someone I barely know and it doesn't work out?"
"What if you don't, and you spend the rest of your life wondering?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
I had three farm calls that morning—routine stuff, nothing complicated. But I couldn't stop thinking about Blaine and Cole and Preston and the mess I'd made of my personal life.
By noon, I'd made a decision.
I pulled over on the side of the road and called Preston.
He answered on the fourth ring. "Hey babe! Hold on—" I heard muffled voices, the click of a door closing. "Sorry, I was in a meeting. What's up?"
"We need to talk."
A pause. "That sounds ominous."
"It's not—I just—" I took a breath. "When are you coming to visit, Preston? And I don't want to hear 'soon' or 'when things calm down.' I want an actual date."
Silence.
"Preston?"
"I'm here. I'm just..." He sighed. "Look, Caitlin. Things are really complicated right now. The partnership is almost finalized, and there's a big case coming up, and?—"
"There's always something. There's always a reason why you can't come, why you can't call, why you can't be present in this relationship.
" My voice was shaking, but I pushed through.
"I've been out here for eight weeks. Eight weeks, Preston.
And you haven't visited once. Not once. You keep saying you will, but something always comes up. "
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry?—"
"Sorry isn't enough anymore. I need to know if you're actually committed to making this work, or if we're just... running out the clock until one of us admits it's over."
The silence stretched so long I thought the call had dropped.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Preston finally said. "I'm doing my best here. Long distance is hard."
"Long distance is hard when both people are trying. I don't feel like you're trying, Preston. I feel like I'm an afterthought. Something you deal with when you have five minutes between meetings."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
Another silence. When he spoke again, his voice was different. Harder. "What is this really about, Caitlin? Because it feels like you're looking for a fight."
"I'm looking for honesty. I'm looking for my boyfriend to actually act like he wants to be with me."
"I do want to be with you. But I can't just drop everything and fly across the country every time you're feeling neglected?—"
"Neglected?" The word hit me like a slap. "I'm not feeling neglected, Preston. I am neglected. There's a difference."
"Look, I can't do this right now. I have a meeting in ten minutes?—"
"Of course you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you always have something more important than me. Always." I was crying now, tears streaming down my face in the cab of my truck on the side of a country road. "I've spent three years waiting for you to prioritize this relationship, and I'm tired, Preston. I'm so tired."
"So what are you saying? You want to break up?"
The question hung in the air. A week ago—maybe even a few days ago—I would have backtracked. Would have apologized for pushing too hard, smoothed things over, gone back to pretending everything was fine.
But I was done pretending.
"I'm saying I need you to give me a reason to stay. One real reason. And if you can't do that..." I wiped my eyes. "Then maybe we both know what that means."
Preston was quiet for a long moment. "I need to think about this."
"Take all the time you need."
"I'll call you tonight. Or tomorrow. We'll figure this out."
"Sure."
"You know, I love you, Caitlin."
The words sounded hollow. Automatic. Like something he said because he was supposed to, not because he meant it.
"Goodbye, Preston."
I hung up before he could respond.
I sat in my truck for twenty minutes, crying and shaking and wondering what the hell I'd just done.
Then I dried my eyes, fixed my makeup as best I could, and drove to my next appointment.
Because that's what you did. You kept going. Even when your heart was breaking and your life was falling apart and you had no idea what came next.
You just kept going.
My last call of the day was at Sierra Sol.
I'd scheduled it days ago—a follow-up on Starlight and a routine check on Sovereign Sun before breeding season. A normal, professional visit.
But as I pulled up the long driveway, my heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with horses.
Blaine was waiting by the barn. He smiled when he saw me, that warm, genuine smile that made everything feel a little less overwhelming.
"Hey," he said. "Long day?"
"You have no idea."
Something in my voice must have given me away, because his expression shifted to concern. "Everything okay?"
"Not really." I climbed out of the truck, grabbing my bag more to have something to do with my hands than because I needed it. "But I don't want to talk about it. Can we just... do the appointment? Be normal for a little while?"
"Of course." He didn't push. Didn't pry. Just fell into step beside me as we walked toward the barn. "Starlight's been doing great. Sunrise is growing like a weed. And Sovereign Sun has been giving everyone attitude, which Hector says is a good sign."
"Attitude is definitely a good sign in a stallion."
We checked on the horses. I examined Starlight, who was fully recovered from her colic.
I watched Sunrise prance around her stall, already showing the spirit that would make her a champion.
I evaluated Sovereign Sun, who tolerated my examination with the regal disdain of a king submitting to a necessary indignity.
It was normal. Professional. Exactly what I'd asked for.
And somehow, it helped.
"Thank you," I said afterward, as we walked back toward my truck.
"For what?"
"For not asking questions. For just... letting me be here."