Chapter 13 Secrets Dont Stay Buried #2
Instead, it felt obvious.
Like admitting the sky was blue.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.
When had this happened?
Not the attraction.
I knew exactly when that started.
The problem was everything that came afterward.
The caring.
The trust.
The way my first instinct had become looking for Oliver whenever something good happened.
Or something bad.
Or anything at all.
Somewhere along the way, he had become home.
The thought landed harder than expected.
I closed my eyes.
The truth sat there waiting.
Simple.
Unavoidable.
I loved him.
Not the idea of him.
Not the fantasy.
The actual person.
The stubborn kid who talked to horses.
The artist who saw beauty everywhere.
The man who looked at my worst scars and somehow found reasons to stay.
The realization should have brought peace.
Instead, it brought fear.
Because loving someone meant having something to lose.
And trouble was coming.
I could feel it.
The ranch felt different now.
The town felt different.
The whispers were getting louder.
The questions were multiplying.
The clock was running.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
I already knew who it was.
"Come in."
The office door opened slowly.
Oliver stepped inside.
The sight of him immediately eased something in my chest.
A reaction that was becoming embarrassingly predictable.
He closed the door behind him.
Neither of us spoke at first.
The silence felt familiar.
Comfortable.
Even now.
Especially now.
"How bad is it?" he finally asked.
I didn't need clarification.
"My guess?"
He nodded.
I sighed.
"Not great."
The honesty seemed appropriate.
Oliver walked farther into the room.
His expression looked thoughtful.
Not frightened.
Not yet.
"I think he suspects something."
"He does."
The answer came too quickly.
Because I knew it was true.
The kid dropped into one of the chairs opposite my desk.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The room felt oddly intimate despite the distance.
Maybe because we both understood what wasn't being said.
Eventually Oliver smiled faintly.
"Remember when my biggest problem was shoveling horse manure?"
I laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
"I remember."
"I miss those days."
"You're lying."
A grin appeared.
Small.
Real.
"There is absolutely no part of me that misses those days."
The smile lingered.
So did the warmth that came with it.
God.
I loved that smile.
The realization arrived again.
Just as strong.
Just as dangerous.
Eventually we left the office and wandered outside.
The ranch had settled into nighttime quiet.
Most of the lights were off.
The workers had gone home.
The stars stretched endlessly above us.
A familiar Texas sky.
Beautiful.
Timeless.
The kind of sky that made people honest.
We ended up near Whiskey's paddock.
Of course we did.
The horse had somehow become part of nearly every important moment in our story.
Whiskey glanced in our direction.
Then returned to eating.
Apparently we weren't interesting tonight.
The traitorous animal.
Oliver leaned against the fence.
I stood beside him.
Close.
Not touching.
Just there.
The breeze moved through the grass.
The night felt peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Like the calm before a storm.
"You ever wish things were simpler?" Oliver asked.
The question hung in the darkness.
I considered it.
Then shook my head.
"No."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Really?"
"No."
I looked out across the ranch.
The land stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight.
"Simple would've been never meeting you."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Oliver went very still.
So did I.
The confession lingered between us.
Honest.
Unfiltered.
The kind of truth that only appeared late at night.
After a long silence, Oliver smiled.
The soft kind.
The dangerous kind.
"Good answer."
I snorted.
The sound earned a quiet laugh.
For a while, we stayed there.
Talking.
Remembering.
Sharing pieces of ourselves.
Not because we needed to.
Because we wanted to.
The conversation drifted from memories to dreams.
From fears to hopes.
From summer to what came after.
The future.
The subject neither of us had fully addressed.
Not until now.
"What happens when summer ends?" Oliver asked quietly.
The question hit exactly where it was supposed to.
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I didn't have one.
Not a good one.
Not a simple one.
Instead, I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
The moonlight softened the edges of his face.
His eyes reflected the stars.
The sight felt unfair somehow.
Like the universe was actively working against my ability to think clearly.
Finally, I spoke.
"We figure it out."
The answer wasn't perfect.
It was honest.
Oliver seemed to understand.
He nodded slowly.
Neither of us pushed further.
Because deep down, we both knew the truth.
There would be difficult conversations ahead.
With his uncle.
With the town.
Possibly with ourselves.
The road forward wasn't clear.
Yet.
Still, neither of us stepped away.
Neither of us let fear steal this moment.
Eventually the conversation faded.
The night grew quieter.
The distance between us disappeared naturally.
Effortlessly.
Like it always seemed to.
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Oliver leaned against me.
The simple closeness felt more meaningful than words.
More meaningful than promises.
For a long time, we stood there beneath the stars.
Listening to the wind.
Listening to each other breathe.
Holding on to the peace while we still could.
Because somewhere beyond the ranch, trouble was gathering.
Questions were coming.
Choices were coming.
Change was coming.
Both of us knew it.
Neither of us said it aloud.
Instead, we stayed together beneath the Blackthorn sky, stealing one more quiet night from a future that suddenly felt uncertain.
And as I held Oliver close and stared out across the ranch I loved, one truth remained stronger than every fear waiting on the horizon.
Whatever happened next, neither of us would walk into it alone.
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