25. Dawn
Chapter 25
Dawn
I had promised myself I would never fall for him. I didn’t have the time, the energy, or the courage to let myself go completely. But then, there was that one moment—just a brief second—when everything shifted. A little glitch in time, and suddenly, I found myself face to face with a decision I didn’t want to make.
One day, it was just me and my people, struggling to keep up with the endless chores of the ranch. The next, there he was—Nash. Willing to give his time, his effort, and looking forward to helping us. Helping me.
Every little moment between us started to weave itself into my thoughts, making me daydream during the day and haunting me at night. His laugh—deep and genuine. The way his eyes crinkled when he teased me. How gentle he was with the residents. I couldn’t help but imagine the possibility of us. Of being together, letting the days flow and guide us.
I closed my eyes and pictured a soft, slow life. The wind tousling his hair as we lay beneath the tall oak at the far end of the ranch. The warm air wrapping around us like a blanket of peace. The first rays of morning sun warming our tangled bodies.
“Dawn? You okay with this plan?” A voice brought me crashing back to reality.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” I answered, unsure of what I’d just agreed to. Billie and Willow were watching me closely from the kitchen table. Reality hit like a punch to the chest—hard and painful. This was exactly why I promised myself not to fall for Nash. Because his absence would hurt more than I could bear.
We were sitting in the main house kitchen, in the same chairs where I once sat as a little girl, without a care in the world. But times had changed. I’d thought that by now, I’d have gotten used to decision-making and bill-paying. Two years into running the ranch on my own, and the weight of it all felt heavier every day.
The young man on the computer screen waited for an answer. Reese, big, muscular, and patient, was worth every penny of the Rebel Rose funds that made his hiring possible. Billie had met him through her occupational therapy program, and he was also one of the Leblancs’ sons.
Martha, our usual care aide, couldn’t work for us anymore. Three weeks ago, she’d come by to announce her mother’s passing and to hand in her resignation, wanting to spend time with her family. Her leaving marked the final end of an era—the last piece of how the ranch used to be.
“It’s a great plan. Do you think, after your internship, you’d be willing to give us some time, too?” I asked him. Reese was in his last year of OT, and he’d be around the ranch as much as possible in the fall, before joining full-time for his winter internship.
“Of course! My plan is to stay close to family, so working full-time at Skyline Acres would be perfect,” Reese said, flashing a smile that reminded me so much of his father’s.
Billie and Willow were ecstatic about the plan. They’d found Martha’s replacement in record time, and I was proud of how quickly they’d pulled it together.
A small smile tugged at my lips. “Perfect, then. We’ll email you the papers to make it official.” After saying our goodbyes, the screen went black.
“Don’t you feel all ‘adult’?” Billie grinned, her excitement impossible to miss. “Hiring people for the ranch, signing contracts, organizing charity events.”
Willow laughed. “Well, I definitely feel more ‘adult’ working for the foundation than I do at the grocery store.”
Billie joined in. “I’m going to miss it so much once I start classes. I can’t even imagine living in the city without waking up to the rooster every morning.” She gazed out the window at the ranch, her voice full of longing. I understood exactly how she felt. I had the same ache every time I left for a competition.
As I glanced down at my plastered arm, the decision solidified. I’d been thinking about it for a while. The rodeo just didn’t bring me joy anymore, and I much preferred being at the ranch full-time. It hadn’t been an option before because we needed the money, but now—with Nash’s fundraising and the foundation's support—we were in a good place.
“I’m stopping the rodeos,” I blurted out, interrupting their conversation about branding the foundation.
There was a long silence, and then Willow breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God!”
Billie burst into laughter, raising her coffee cup. “Let’s toast to that! Dawn Taylor is finally making a decision for her own well-being!”
I chuckled, shaking my head at their reactions. They were more shocked that I was prioritizing myself than by the fact that I was quitting the rodeos. It said a lot about how long I’d been putting others before me. It was time to finally let go.
* * *
The leaves were slowly turning orange and red, the air crisp and cold at the end of this September afternoon. I watched Clara and Benjamin help the new ranch hand feed the horses.
The horses were thriving, the residents were happier than ever, I had recovered from my accident fully, and the Skyline Acres Foundation was already making waves. Willow and Billie had turned it into a machine of hope, working long hours to ensure donations came in and that we could support more people like Clara, Ben, and Simon. Billie had started her program and now lived with her boyfriend in the city, coming back every weekend to spend time at the ranch.
By all accounts, I should have been thrilled. Everything I’d dreamed of for the ranch was happening. But deep down, there was a void I couldn’t shake.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Willow said as she stepped onto the porch, two mugs of coffee in hand. She handed me one, her sharp eyes catching mine as she sat down beside me on the old swing. I covered her legs with the plaid blanket, creating a warm bubble around us.
I smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just thinking.”
Willow raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous.”
I laughed, but it was weak. I stared out at the pastures, where Clara was laughing at something Ben had said. “Things are good,” I started, the words feeling heavy as I spoke them. “Better than good, even. The ranch is thriving, and the foundation is growing. It’s everything I ever wanted for this place.”
“But?” she asked, cutting straight to the heart of it, like she always did.
“But…” I hesitated, gripping the mug tighter. “I feel like I’m on autopilot, you know? Like I’m going through the motions, but there’s this... emptiness I can’t seem to fill.”
Willow sipped her coffee, waiting. She never pushed; she just gave you space until you were ready to spill.
I let out a deep sigh, my chest tightening as I spoke. “It’s Nash,” I confessed, the name slipping from my lips like a bittersweet memory. My heart skipped at the mere thought of him. In the past few weeks, I’d tried to push him out of my mind, convincing myself he was just a summer fling. But it was impossible. Nash was everywhere. From the fence he helped mend to the roof still open to the sky, his presence lingered. He was in the small moments—those quiet nights around the bonfire, the laughter of the residents as they reminisced about how he’d fought to keep his shirt when a horse grabbed its zipper in its teeth.
Her expression softened, but she didn’t speak right away.
“I thought I could move on,” I said, my voice catching. “Throw myself into the ranch, into the Foundation. And I am. But... no matter how busy I get, he’s still there. In the back of my mind. Every time I hear a guitar, or when Billie hums one of his songs... it hurts, Willow.”
She didn’t hesitate. Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on my knee. “You’re in love with him, Dawn,” she said softly. “And that doesn’t just go away because you’re busy.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “I pushed him away, Will. And for what?” I looked at her. “To protect the ranch? To protect myself? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that I miss him so much it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.”
Willow tilted her head, her brown eyes searching mine. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
I blinked at her, caught off guard. “Do about it?”
“Yeah,” she said simply, setting her coffee down. “You miss him. You’re miserable. So what’s stopping you from picking up the phone and telling him that?”
I stared at her, the thought hitting me like a stampede. I’d spent so long convincing myself that keeping Nash at a distance was the right thing to do, the safe thing. But was it really?
“He gave me some time to figure things out. And he must be occupied with his tour starting… I don’t want to disturb him,” I admitted, my voice small. I followed Rebel Rose on social media, a way to torture myself, really, seeing all the pictures of Nash having the time of his life on stage.
Willow scoffed. “Please. That man was crazy about you, and I’m willing to bet he still is. You won’t know unless you try.”
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of the beginning of fall and the promise of a cold evening. I stared out at the ranch, at everything I’d built, and felt the ache in my chest deepen.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, knowing it wasn’t enough but not ready to admit what I really wanted.
I had pushed him away, far away. But he still promised he wasn’t leaving me. Sometimes I wondered why I let my anxiety do the talking. I was always scared. Scared to let go of the competitions, even if I didn’t find joy in them anymore, scared of letting the girls work on the Foundation alone, scared of change, scared of my own emotions.
Damn, I was sick and tired of it all. And I knew deep down that I was the one imposing these limits on myself. Why was I like this?
Willow gave me a look that said she wasn’t fooled, but she let it go. “Well, when you’re done thinking, let me know. I’ll help you figure out what to do.”
I smiled, a real one this time, even if it was small. “Thanks, Will.”
She leaned back, her mug back in hand, before shrugging. “If you know, you know. No need to complicate things.”
I let her last words sink in as we sat in silence, the ranch stretching out before us. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, and for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if Nash were here.
Willow didn’t press me further, but as she stood to leave, she placed her phone down on the swing beside me, casual as anything, like it didn’t matter. But I knew her better than that. She didn’t say a word about it, just gave me a quick squeeze on the shoulder and headed back inside, leaving me alone with the fading light and a decision I wasn’t sure I wanted to make.
The phone sat there, screen dark, but its presence felt louder than any words she could’ve said. I stared at it, the weight of possibilities pressing on me. I should call Nash. Hear his voice. Maybe figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next.
Or I could leave it there, let the sun set on another day without answers, and keep pretending I didn’t already know what I wanted.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to find out if Nash hadn’t changed his mind.
With a deep breath, I picked up Willow’s phone, my thumb hesitating over the screen. My chest tightened as I tapped the phone app, signaling his manager’s number. In the weeks we spent together, I realized we’d never bothered to exchange numbers. The only call I had ever received was from Richard when he organized the promotion filming at the ranch.
It felt like the glowing screen carried the weight of every unresolved thought in my head.
I tapped the green icon before I could second-guess myself, pressing the phone to my ear as the line began to ring. Each tone felt longer than the last, stretching the silence between us.
“Come on, answer,” I whispered, half to myself.
The ringing stopped, and for a split second, my heart leapt.
“Richard Hayes,” the deep voice answered.
“Mister Hayes, it’s Dawn.”
“Dawn?” he elongated my name, as if it never rang a bell to him.
“Huh, Dawn Taylor. From Skyline Acres? The benefit concert?”
“Ah, right, Miss Taylor. What can I do for you?” he finally responded, but his voice seemed reluctant.
“I wanted to ask you for Nash’s number. I need to tell him something.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Taylor, but we can’t just give out phone numbers to fans like this, you understand?”
I couldn’t believe it. Richard Hayes acted as if I were a groupie wanting to harass my favorite star. “Well, yeah, I understand, but it’s not like that.” I finally laughed, still flabbergasted.
“Yes, I’m sure, Miss Taylor. Okay, have a nice day now.” He hung up before I could argue.
The beep sounded like a door closing, final and cold. I held the phone there for a moment, my throat tight, before lowering it and ending the call.
At the same moment, Willow poked her head through the door. “So…” she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“So… we’re booking a trip,” I finally said, the anger making way for hopefulness.