Chapter 22
BLAINE
T he house felt wrong without her.
I'd only known Caitlin for three months. She'd only been staying at the ranch for a few weeks. But somehow, her absence had hollowed out every room, leaving echoes where there should have been laughter.
I told myself I'd done the right thing. Given her space. Let her make her choice without pressure.
But at two in the morning, staring at the ceiling of our bedroom— my bedroom—it didn't feel right. It felt like the biggest mistake of my life.
"You're an idiot," Lily had informed me at breakfast that first morning, after I'd explained why Caitlin's truck wasn't in its usual spot. "A noble idiot, but an idiot nonetheless."
"I need her to be sure."
"She was sure. She told you she was sure. And you basically said 'I don't believe you, go away and think about it.'" Lily shook her head. "How do you think that made her feel?"
I didn't have a good answer for that.
Two days passed. Then three. I threw myself into ranch work—mending fences, mucking stalls, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind quiet.
It didn't work. Every time I walked past the foaling barn, I thought of her.
Every time Cisco nudged my pocket looking for carrots, I thought of her.
Every time I sat on the porch swing alone, I thought of her.
Jake and Tre tried to distract me. Poker nights. Beer on the porch. Conversations about nothing that both of us knew were really about something.
"She'll come back," Jake said on the third night.
"You don't know that."
"I do, actually." He took a sip of his beer. "I've seen how she looks at you. That woman isn't going anywhere."
"Then why hasn't she called?"
"Because you told her to take time. She's respecting your wishes." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should respect hers and trust that she knows her own mind."
I hated when Jake was right.
On the fourth night, I couldn't sleep.
I'd been drifting in and out for hours, caught in that restless half-consciousness where every sound seemed amplified. The creak of the old house settling. The wind in the trees. The distant whinny of a horse.
The whinny came again. Sharper this time. Urgent.
I sat up, instantly alert.
Sovereign Sun.
I knew that sound—the stallion's alarm call, the one he made when something was wrong. I'd heard it the night of the generator sabotage, the night someone had crept too close to his barn.
I was out of bed and pulling on jeans before I'd fully processed the thought. Grabbed my phone. Checked the security app.
The cameras showed nothing unusual. The barn was quiet, the doors closed.
But Sovereign Sun called out again, and this time I heard another sound beneath it—voices. Shouting.
I was out the door in seconds, sprinting across the yard toward the stallion barn. Ahead of me, I could see flashlight beams cutting through the darkness—Sarah's team was already converging.
By the time I reached the barn, the door was open and voices echoed from inside. I pushed through to find a standoff.
Tyler Vance stood in Sovereign Sun's stall, one hand gripping the stallion's halter, the other holding a syringe pressed against his neck. Sarah and two of her team members had him surrounded, weapons drawn, but nobody was moving.
"Stay back!" Vance's voice was high, panicked. Nothing like the cold confidence I'd seen in the security footage. "I'll do it. I swear I'll do it."
"Easy," Sarah said, her voice calm. "Nobody needs to get hurt here. Put the syringe down."
"I can't." Vance shook his head, sweat beading on his forehead. "I have to— He said I just had to inject the horse and get out. That's all. Just inject and go."
"Who said that?" Sarah took a small step forward.
"Stay back!" The needle pressed harder against Sovereign Sun's neck. The stallion screamed, eyes rolling white.
That's when Vance saw me in the doorway. His eyes went wide—desperation, not menace.
"You," he said. "This is your fault. If you'd just sold the ranch like you were supposed to?—"
Sarah moved.
Three quick steps and she had Vance in a chokehold, his syringe hand wrenched behind his back. The needle clattered to the ground.
"Don't move," she said calmly. "I will break your arm."
Vance didn't even struggle. All the fight went out of him the moment the syringe left his hand.
I went straight to Sovereign Sun, running my hands over his neck, checking for puncture wounds. Nothing. The needle hadn't broken skin.
"He's okay," I breathed. "He's okay."
Vance was hauled to his feet, zip ties tight around his wrists. The bravado was gone—replaced by something desperate. Pathetic, almost.
"Look, I was just doing what I was told," he said, words tumbling out. "Cole sent me. Said to inject the horse and get out. That's it. I wasn't supposed to hurt anyone."
"Cole sent you?" I stepped closer.
"He's desperate, man. You've got the sheriff on him, lawyers circling. He said this was the only way to make you sell." Vance's eyes darted between me and Sarah. "I'm just the hired help. Cole's the one you want."
"Oh, we want both of you," Sarah said. "Get him out of here."
Her team dragged him away, still babbling about how he was just following orders, how Cole promised him the charges wouldn't stick, how he never meant for anyone to get hurt.
I stood in the barn, my legs shaking, my heart pounding, staring at the syringe on the ground.
One injection away from destroying everything.
"Blaine." Jake's hand landed on my shoulder. He'd appeared at some point—I hadn't even noticed. "You okay?"
"No." I turned to look at him. "I need to call Caitlin."
She answered on the second ring.
"Blaine? It's three in the morning. What's?—"
"Vance broke into the stallion barn. He had a syringe. Some drug—ace-something. Ace-pro..."
"Acepromazine?" Her voice went sharp. "Blaine, do you know what that could do to him? To a stallion?"
"Sarah said something about... breeding? That he wouldn't be able to?—"
"Priapism. It's a risk with ace in stallions. It could end his career—both breeding and competition. Permanently." She let out a shaky breath. "Is he okay? Did he get injected?"
"No. Sarah stopped him in time. The needle never broke skin."
Silence on the other end.
"Caitlin?"
"I'm on my way."
"You don't have to?—"
"I'm on my way." Her voice was fierce. "Don't argue with me, Blaine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
She hung up before I could respond.
I stood there, phone in hand, feeling something crack open in my chest. I'd told her to take space. To think. To be sure.
And the moment I needed her, she was already on her way.
She pulled up eighteen minutes later—I counted—her truck skidding to a stop in a spray of gravel. She was out of the cab before the engine died, running toward the barn in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair wild, her feet in mismatched shoes.
She'd never looked more beautiful.
"Where is he?" she demanded, pushing past me into the barn. "Where's Sovereign Sun?"
"In his stall. He's okay. The needle never broke skin."
She went straight to him anyway, her hands moving over his neck with practiced efficiency, checking his pupils, his heart rate, his breathing. Sovereign Sun—who tolerated almost no one—dropped his head and let her work.
"No injection site," she confirmed. "No signs of distress beyond the obvious fear response. He's okay." She let out a shaky breath. "He's okay."
"Caitlin."
She turned to face me, and I saw tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry. I should never have?—"
She crossed the distance between us and kissed me.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful. It was desperate and fierce and tasted like salt, and I kissed her back with everything I had.
"Don't you ever," she said against my lips, "send me away again."
"I won't."
"I mean it, Blaine. I spent four days in my apartment, staring at the walls, knowing exactly what I wanted and not being able to have it because you needed me to 'think.
'" She pulled back to glare at me. "I've thought.
I'm done thinking. I choose you. I choose this ranch.
I choose this life. And if you ever try to make that decision for me again, I will?—"
"Kick me in the metaphorical balls?"
"Lily's been talking."
"Lily's always talking." I cupped her face in my hands. "I'm sorry. I was scared. Scared that I wasn't enough, that this life wasn't enough, that you'd wake up one day and regret?—"
"Stop." She covered my hands with hers. "I talked to Jess.
For hours. She asked me every hard question you could imagine—the career stuff, the equipment, the future, all of it.
She made me really sit with what I was giving up.
" Caitlin's eyes held mine, fierce and certain.
"And no matter what she challenged me on, I always chose you.
Every single time. The fancy clinic, the state-of-the-art equipment, the prestigious career—none of it mattered. Because none of it came with you."
My throat tightened. "Caitlin..."
"You are enough. This is enough. Do you understand me?"
"I'm starting to."
"Good." She kissed me again, softer this time. "Now. Tell me exactly what happened, and then we're going to check on every horse in this barn, and then you're going to take me home and hold me until the sun comes up."
"That's a lot of demands."
"Get used to it." She smiled through her tears. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sheriff Martinez arrived within the hour.
He took statements from all of us—me, Sarah, Jake. He examined the syringe, now bagged as evidence. He listened as I explained what Vance had said after being apprehended.
"He admitted Cole sent him," I said. "Started talking the second Sarah had him in cuffs. Said Cole was desperate, that this was supposed to make me sell."
"Sounds like Mr. Vance is looking to make a deal.
" Martinez's expression was grim but satisfied.
"That's good for us. Animal cruelty, breaking and entering, violation of a restraining order, attempted destruction of property—he's facing serious time.
Men like Vance always talk when they're looking at a long sentence. "
"You think he'll testify against Cole?"
"I think he'll sing like a canary." Martinez tucked his notepad away. "I'm bringing Cole in for questioning first thing in the morning. With what we already had plus Vance's testimony, we should have enough to charge them both."
"You think it'll stick?"
"I think Vernon Cole has been untouchable in this valley for thirty years, and that ends now." He shook my hand. "Get some rest, Mr. Hartley. You've earned it."
After he left, I found Caitlin in the stallion barn, sitting on a hay bale outside Sovereign Sun's stall. The horse had finally calmed, his head hanging low, exhaustion overtaking fear.
"Hey." I sat down beside her. "You okay?"
"Ask me tomorrow." She leaned her head on my shoulder. "Tonight I'm just grateful."
"For what?"
"That Sarah's team is good at their job. That Sovereign Sun is okay. That you called me." She lifted her head to look at me. "That I get to be here."
"I should have called you sooner. Should never have sent you away in the first place."
"Probably not." But she was smiling. "We can argue about it later. Right now, I just want to go home."
Home. She said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like Sierra Sol had always been hers.
"Let's go home," I agreed.
We walked back to the house hand in hand, leaving the barn quiet behind us. Sovereign Sun watched us go, then turned back to his hay, calm at last.
It was over.
Or at least, the worst of it was.
I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and Caitlin's hair tickling my nose.
She was still asleep, curled against my chest, her breathing slow and even. I watched her for a long moment—the sweep of her lashes, the curve of her lips, the way she fit so perfectly in my arms.
Four days without her had felt like a lifetime.
Never again.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Stop staring at me."
"Can't help it."
"Creep." But she smiled and stretched up to kiss me. "What time is it?"
"Almost nine."
"That late?" She sat up, suddenly alert. "I should check on Sovereign Sun. And I need to call the clinic, let them know I'm?—"
"Caitlin." I pulled her back down. "The horses are fine. Jake and Tre are handling morning chores. The clinic can wait."
"But—"
"Stay." I kissed her forehead. "Just for a little while. Stay with me."
She relaxed into my arms. "Okay. But only because you asked nicely."
"I can ask nicer."
"Later." She snuggled closer. "Right now, just hold me."
So I did.
Outside, I could hear the sounds of the ranch waking up—horses calling for breakfast, the rumble of the tractor, voices drifting across the yard. The sounds of home.
And in my arms, the woman I loved. The woman who'd chosen me.
Everything else could wait.