Chapter 20 Home at Blackthorn
One Year Later
A year ago, I thought I was losing everything.
Funny how life worked.
Sometimes the moments that felt like endings were actually beginnings wearing different clothes.
The realization hit me as I stood on the front porch of Blackthorn Ranch with a cup of coffee in my hand and watched the sunrise spill across the fields.
The view still stole my breath.
Every morning.
Golden light stretched across the pastures.
The horses moved lazily through the early mist.
The barns glowed beneath the first rays of sunlight.
Everything looked exactly the way it had the first day I arrived.
The difference was that now it felt like home.
Not temporary.
Not borrowed.
Mine.
The thought warmed my chest.
A familiar arm slid around my waist from behind.
I smiled before Ryder even spoke.
Some habits never changed.
"You're thinking again."
His voice carried the rough morning rasp I'd grown addicted to.
I leaned back against him.
Comfortable.
Certain.
Happy.
"That's usually how mornings work."
A low laugh vibrated through his chest.
The sound still made me smile.
After a year together, that fact remained slightly ridiculous.
Then again, love often was.
Ryder rested his chin on top of my head.
The simple gesture felt natural now.
Easy.
Like we'd been doing this forever.
Some mornings I still had trouble believing it.
The past year hadn't been perfect.
Far from it.
There had been awkward conversations.
Public gossip.
More than a few arguments.
A handful of relatives who needed time to adjust.
And an entire town that seemed incapable of minding its own business.
Yet somehow we'd survived all of it.
Together.
The realization mattered.
Because we'd chosen each other every day since that storm.
Not once.
Not dramatically.
Daily.
Consistently.
The way real love worked.
I smiled at the thought.
Ryder noticed immediately.
Unfortunately.
The man could read my face better than anyone.
"What?"
I looked up at him.
The morning light caught the familiar tattoos disappearing beneath his rolled sleeves.
The sight still made my heart stumble.
A year later.
Still.
Unfair.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"Lie."
I laughed.
The sound echoed across the porch.
"I was thinking about last summer."
That earned a groan.
A dramatic one.
The kind designed specifically to make me laugh harder.
Mission accomplished.
"We're not talking about the summer."
"Why not?"
"Because every time we talk about the summer, I remember what an idiot I was."
I grinned.
"A historically impressive idiot."
Ryder pointed a finger at me.
"Careful."
I laughed again.
The threat lacked credibility.
Mostly because he was smiling.
The sight filled me with a familiar warmth.
For years, people in Blackthorn had described Ryder Cole as intimidating.
Grumpy.
Unapproachable.
The town bad boy.
The tattooed cowboy nobody wanted to cross.
Personally, I thought they were idiots.
The man smiled all the time now.
Especially when he thought nobody was watching.
I happened to watch constantly.
One of the many benefits of living together.
The thought still felt surreal.
Living together.
Actually living together.
Not dreaming about it.
Not sketching imaginary futures.
Real.
The reality had officially started three months earlier.
Right after graduation.
College finished.
Degree earned.
Future decided.
The move back to Blackthorn had been surprisingly emotional.
Mostly because it never felt like moving somewhere new.
It felt like returning home.
The ranch hands treated it that way too.
Several of them helped unload my belongings.
Others spent the entire day pretending they weren't emotional.
The effort failed.
Spectacularly.
Whiskey had been particularly dramatic.
The horse spent nearly an hour refusing to leave my side.
The memory still made me smile.
Some things never changed.
A phone alarm interrupted my thoughts.
I groaned.
Immediately.
Ryder laughed.
"Big day."
I looked toward the kitchen window.
The reminder hit instantly.
Right.
The exhibition.
Months of work.
Months of preparation.
Months of anxiety.
Today.
My stomach immediately tightened.
Excitement.
Nerves.
Possibly terror.
The distinction felt blurry.
Ryder squeezed my waist gently.
"You'll be amazing."
The confidence in his voice sounded effortless.
Absolute.
Like there was never any possibility of failure.
The support warmed my chest.
As always.
"You don't know that."
He looked offended.
Actually offended.
The reaction made me laugh.
"I absolutely know that."
The certainty in his voice left no room for debate.
Typical.
I loved him.
An embarrassing amount.
The realization remained one of the easiest truths in my life.
The exhibition occupied most of my thoughts throughout the day.
The event would take place at a gallery in the nearest city.
A respectable gallery.
A real gallery.
The kind I'd dreamed about during college.
The kind that once felt impossibly distant.
Now my work hung on those walls.
The realization still felt surreal.
Especially because almost every piece had been inspired by Blackthorn.
By the ranch.
By the life I'd built here.
By the people who changed everything.
The drive into the city passed quickly.
Too quickly.
One moment I was leaving the ranch.
The next I was standing outside the gallery trying not to panic.
Ryder noticed immediately.
Again.
The man possessed an unfair advantage when it came to reading me.
"You okay?"
"No."
The honesty slipped out before I could stop it.
Ryder laughed.
Not helpfully.
"I figured."
I glared.
He kissed my forehead.
The unfairness continued.
"You're going to be fine."
Easy for him to say.
He wasn't the one displaying his soul on gallery walls.
Then again, in a way, he was.
The realization hit as we entered the building.
Because every painting told part of our story.
Not explicitly.
Not obviously.
But the truth lived inside each one.
The gallery buzzed with conversation.
Visitors moved through the space.
Collectors.
Artists.
Friends.
Strangers.
The crowd looked intimidating.
Until I noticed several familiar faces.
The Blackthorn crew.
Of course.
Half the ranch had apparently decided to attend.
The sight immediately eased some of my nerves.
A little.
Then the exhibition officially opened.
People spread throughout the gallery.
Studying the paintings.
Talking quietly.
Pointing.
Smiling.
The reaction felt overwhelming.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Wonderful.
The collection itself represented a year of work.
A year of healing.
A year of love.
One large canvas captured Whiskey beneath the sunset.
Another showed storm clouds gathering over distant fields.
Several focused on ranch life.
Working hands.
Dusty boots.
Weathered fences.
Strength and beauty existing side by side.
The themes felt familiar.
Because they were.
The final room contained the most personal pieces.
The ones I'd worried about most.
The ones inspired by Ryder.
Not portraits.
Not directly.
Something deeper.
A series exploring resilience.
Loss.
Hope.
Love.
The man behind the cowboy.
The response surprised me.
Visitors lingered.
Studied them.
Connected with them.
The realization felt deeply emotional.
Because those paintings represented the truth.
The version of Ryder I'd fallen in love with.
The version most people never saw.
Late in the evening, the gallery director asked me to speak.
A brief introduction.
A few words.
Nothing dramatic.
Unfortunately, public speaking remained one of my least favorite activities.
The crowd gathered.
Conversations quieted.
Every eye turned toward me.
Wonderful.
Exactly my nightmare.
I cleared my throat.
Then looked around the room.
At the paintings.
At the guests.
At the ranch hands.
At Ryder.
The cowboy stood near the back.
Watching.
Proud.
The sight steadied me instantly.
As it always did.
I smiled.
Then began.
The words came easier than expected.
Because they were true.
I spoke about inspiration.
About finding beauty in unexpected places.
About second chances.
About home.
The final statement came naturally.
Without planning.
Without rehearsal.
The pure truth.
"A year ago, I arrived at a ranch thinking it was a punishment."
Soft laughter moved through the room.
I smiled.
"Instead, it gave me everything."
The words settled over the crowd.
Honest.
Simple.
Real.
My gaze found Ryder again.
His expression softened.
The familiar look made my heart swell.
Because every painting in the gallery existed for the same reason.
Love.
And standing surrounded by artwork inspired by Blackthorn Ranch, the horses, the life we'd built, and the man who changed everything, I realized that some dreams turned out far bigger than the ones we originally imagined.
Especially when they led you home.
Forever Starts Here
I had faced championship finals in front of thousands of people.
I'd ridden bulls that outweighed small cars.
I'd negotiated cattle contracts worth more money than I ever imagined having.
None of those experiences prepared me for planning a surprise for Oliver Hayes.
Because unlike bulls and business deals, Oliver mattered.
The realization made everything significantly more terrifying.
I stood outside the main barn and checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time.
The gallery event had ended nearly two hours ago.
Which meant Oliver would be back soon.
Very soon.
My stomach tightened immediately.
Wonderful.
Apparently nervousness wasn't just for young people.
The ranch looked different tonight.
Strings of warm lights stretched between fence posts and trees.
Lanterns lined the pathway leading toward the old oak tree.
Long wooden tables sat near the main paddock covered with food, flowers, and enough desserts to feed an army.
The entire place glowed beneath the Texas night sky.
It looked beautiful.
Exactly the way I'd hoped.
The project had taken weeks to organize.