Chapter 7 Blackthorn Nights
Secrets Under Stars
By the time my second month at Blackthorn Ranch began, I had finally stopped feeling like a complete disaster.
Not a complete disaster.
Just a partial one.
That counted as progress.
I could saddle a horse without creating a public safety hazard.
I could drive the utility vehicle without nearly destroying property.
I could repair basic fencing, fill feed troughs, and survive a full workday without embarrassing myself every thirty minutes.
The ranch hands still teased me.
But now it felt different.
Less like they expected me to fail.
More like they considered me part of the crew.
At least a little.
The realization felt surprisingly good.
Blackthorn was beginning to feel less like a punishment and more like a place.
A place I cared about.
A place I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to leave.
That thought followed me throughout the afternoon.
It followed me while fixing gates.
While carrying supplies.
While trying very hard not to think about Ryder Cole.
Unfortunately, avoiding thoughts of Ryder had become almost impossible.
Especially lately.
Ever since the conversation on the porch.
Ever since learning about Midnight.
Every new piece of his story made me want to know more.
Which was probably a terrible sign.
Definitely a terrible sign.
The universe apparently agreed.
Because just before sunset, Ryder walked over while I was stacking supplies near one of the barns.
"Grab your gloves."
I looked up.
"Why?"
"Fence repair."
I glanced toward the darkening sky.
"We're doing that now?"
"Unless you know a better time."
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
There was no winning against Ryder's logic.
Five minutes later we were driving toward the far northern edge of the property.
The truck bounced along rough dirt roads while evening settled across the ranch.
The farther we traveled, the more isolated everything became.
Fields stretched endlessly around us.
The nearest buildings disappeared behind rolling hills.
The world felt enormous.
And strangely peaceful.
I sat in the passenger seat trying not to stare at Ryder.
A task that remained unfairly difficult.
The setting sun painted his profile gold.
The warm light softened some of the harder lines in his face.
For a man who spent most of his time pretending emotions were optional, Ryder looked surprisingly relaxed.
At least compared to normal.
The silence between us felt comfortable.
Not forced.
Not awkward.
Just easy.
Somewhere along the way, we'd become capable of sitting together without needing conversation.
I liked that.
Probably more than I should.
The truck finally stopped near a damaged section of fencing.
Several wooden posts leaned at awkward angles.
A recent storm had clearly done some damage.
Ryder climbed out.
"So what's the plan?"
He handed me a tool belt.
"We fix it."
I stared.
"You make everything sound simple."
"Most things are."
I laughed despite myself.
The sound earned one of those almost-smiles.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that made my stomach forget how to behave.
We got to work.
The repair wasn't complicated.
Just time-consuming.
New posts.
Replacement wire.
Several hours of manual labor.
The sun disappeared completely while we worked.
Darkness settled gradually across the fields.
Stars appeared overhead.
One by one.
Hundreds of them.
Then thousands.
Away from city lights, the sky looked unreal.
Like someone had spilled diamonds across black velvet.
I found myself staring upward.
Again.
Ryder noticed.
"Never seen stars before?"
"Not like this."
His attention shifted skyward.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
The silence felt almost sacred.
Out here, away from everything else, the world seemed quieter.
Simpler.
The ranch house was miles away.
The nearest road even farther.
There were no phones ringing.
No traffic.
No distractions.
Just wind, stars, and the occasional sound of tools against wood.
I wasn't sure how much time passed before Ryder finally spoke.
"You miss it?"
The question caught me off guard.
"What?"
"College."
I considered the answer.
The honest one.
"Parts of it."
He nodded.
Apparently understanding.
I sat down on one of the fence posts we'd replaced.
The work was nearly finished.
My arms felt tired.
My back hurt.
But it was the satisfying kind of exhaustion.
The kind I'd never experienced before Blackthorn.
"What parts?" Ryder asked.
I looked out across the dark fields.
Thinking.
"Friends."
That answer came easily.
"I miss my friends."
Ryder nodded again.
"What else?"
The second answer took longer.
Because it wasn't as simple.
Eventually I sighed.
"Who I used to be."
The words surprised me.
Mostly because I'd never said them out loud before.
Ryder remained silent.
Waiting.
Giving me space.
I appreciated that.
Before arriving at Blackthorn, most people had tried fixing me.
Offering advice.
Offering solutions.
Offering lectures.
Ryder never did.
He just listened.
Somehow that made honesty easier.
"I used to know exactly where my life was going."
A humorless laugh escaped me.
"At least I thought I did."
The wind moved through the grass.
Cool against my skin.
"I had plans."
I stared at the distant horizon.
"Then everything sort of fell apart."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
The memory still hurt.
Not as much as before.
Enough.
Ryder leaned against one of the fence posts.
Patient.
Quiet.
The same way he'd been during the storm.
The same way he'd been on the porch.
Eventually I continued.
"I was dating someone."
The words felt strange now.
Like they belonged to another version of me.
Another life.
Ryder's expression didn't change.
Not visibly.
But his attention sharpened.
I noticed.
For some reason, that made me keep talking.
"His name was Ethan."
The name felt heavy.
Old.
Worn out.
The way painful memories often did.
At first, I wasn't sure how much to say.
Then the words started coming on their own.
Maybe because of the darkness.
Maybe because of the stars.
Maybe because Ryder was listening.
Whatever the reason, I couldn't seem to stop.
"He wasn't always bad."
That part mattered.
People liked simple stories.
Heroes and villains.
Good and bad.
Real life rarely worked that way.
"Ethan was funny. Charming."
I stared down at my hands.
"He knew exactly what to say."
A pause.
"Until he didn't."
The silence that followed felt heavier.
I swallowed.
Suddenly aware of how personal this conversation had become.
But turning back seemed impossible.
So I kept going.
"He hated that I drew."
Ryder frowned slightly.
The reaction surprised me.
"Why?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Apparently it wasn't practical."
The memory stung.
Even now.
"He used to make jokes about it."
The smile disappeared from my face.
"Then the jokes stopped being jokes."
The wind shifted.
The temperature dropped slightly.
Neither of us moved.
"He criticized everything."
The words came quietly.
"How I dressed. How I talked. What I wanted."
I stared toward the darkness.
Avoiding Ryder's eyes.
"Ethan always had a way of making me feel small."
The confession hung there.
Raw.
Honest.
Painful.
For a long moment, the only sound came from insects hidden in the grass.
Eventually I continued.
"He convinced me I wasn't enough."
There.
The truth.
The real truth.
The thing that hurt most.
Not the breakup.
Not the betrayal.
The damage left behind.
Months later, I still carried it.
Still questioned myself.
Still heard his voice whenever I failed.
Whenever I made mistakes.
Whenever I doubted my worth.
The realization settled heavily inside my chest.
I hated it.
I hated how much power those memories still held.
For several seconds, silence stretched between us.
Then Ryder spoke.
His voice came low.
Controlled.
Dangerously controlled.
"Sounds like an asshole."
The blunt answer startled a laugh out of me.
A real one.
Unexpected.
The corners of Ryder's mouth twitched.
Almost smiling.
Almost.
The moment eased some of the tension.
Not all of it.
Enough.
I looked up at the stars again.
The sky stretched endlessly above us.
Beautiful.
Infinite.
For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel quite so alone beneath it.
Because somehow, somewhere between broken fences and late-night conversations, Ryder Cole had become the one person I trusted with the parts of myself I usually kept hidden.
And judging by the hard look in his eyes whenever Ethan's name came up, he wasn't particularly fond of the man who'd taught me to doubt my own worth.
Protecting Him
I spent the rest of the fence repair trying not to think about Ethan.
Unfortunately, that proved impossible.
The more I learned about Oliver's ex-boyfriend, the angrier I became.
Not the quick kind of anger that burned hot and disappeared.
The dangerous kind.
The slow, steady kind that settled deep in a man's chest and refused to leave.
I didn't even know Ethan.
Had never met him.
Probably never would.
Yet every detail Oliver shared made me dislike the guy more.
Not because relationships ended.
That happened.
People fell out of love.
People made mistakes.
Life moved on.
That wasn't the issue.
The issue was how carefully Ethan had taken apart someone's confidence.
I knew what that looked like.
I'd seen it before.
Not just in relationships.
In rodeo.
In business.
In life.
Some people didn't break others with fists.
They used words.
Doubt.
Criticism.
Control.
By the time they finished, their victims barely recognized themselves.
The thought sat heavily in my mind as we worked.
Oliver continued repairing wire beside me.
The conversation had ended several minutes earlier.
At least verbally.
The emotions remained.
I could see them.
The sadness.
The embarrassment.
The lingering hurt.
The kid tried hiding it.
He wasn't very good at that.
Eventually we finished the repairs.
The fence stood straight again.
The tools were packed away.