Chapter Twenty-Four
I pull the bodysuit over my head and toss it into the chair in the corner.
My hair smells like smoke and a faint hint of jasmine left from my shampoo. I wrinkle my nose as I sit on the edge of my bed, unzip my boots, and tug them off, placing them by my closet door.
My feet ache.
So does my head.
I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the heaviness of the night. But it does little to help.
I slide into bed, the sheets cool against my legs, and I sigh as I pull the comforter up to my chin. Willing my mind to shut down.
That’s when my bedroom door swings open.
“Shelby,” Harleigh sings, bouncing into the room.
I groan, sit up, and flop back against my headboard. “How are you still so bubbly this late?”
Her hair is damp, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, like she’s plugged into some secret energy reservoir the rest of us don’t have access to. “It’s not late. It’s not even midnight.”
I glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand.
“It’s eleven fifty-three.”
“Exactly. This is considered early back on campus.”
I snort. “Yeah, well, the day doesn’t start at four a.m. on campus either.”
She grins, completely unapologetic, and launches herself onto the bed beside me. The mattress dips under her weight.
I roll onto my side to face her, propping my head on my hand.
She stretches out, hands laced behind her head, staring up at the ceiling. The silence curls around us.
“It’s weird,” she says after a moment. “The house feels … too quiet with Matty and Charli gone.”
My chest tightens, just a little. “Yeah,” I murmur, “it is.”
She turns her head to look at me. “Is it like this all the time now?”
“Worse when you’re not here.”
Her face softens. “That’s why you need a man.”
I bark out a laugh. “Um, think I’ll just get a sound machine or something.”
“A noise machine can’t bend you over and—”
“Harleigh.” I pull one of the pillows from behind my head and toss it at her.
“I’m serious,” she insists. “You could use a good manhandling.”
Before I can respond—before I can even figure out what to say to that—there’s a soft knock at my door.
Harleigh and I both look at it, then at each other.
The door creaks open, just enough for Charli to poke her head in.
“Are you guys still awake?” she whispers.
“No,” I say flatly.
“Yes,” Harleigh says at the exact same time.
Charli grins and slips inside, closing the door quietly behind her. “Scoot.”
I sit up, frowning. “Why aren’t you at your cabin with Bryce?”
She shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it over my chair. “I told him I needed an hour of sister snuggles first.”
Harleigh’s eyebrows shoot up. “And how did he take that?”
Charli shrugs again, climbing onto the bed with zero hesitation. “I told him if he fell asleep before I got back, I’d find a very creative way to wake him up, so he relented pretty quickly.”
I snort despite myself.
We shuffle around, adjusting pillows and limbs until we’re all squeezed together, Harleigh in the middle. It’s cramped and warm and familiar in a way that loosens something knotted tight in my chest.
Once Charli’s settled in, the inquisition begins.
“So, Shell,” she says casually, “how do you think the evening went with Dixon?”
My shoulders lift in a shrug before I can stop them. “He’s nice.”
Harleigh snickers. “That’s code for boring.”
Charli scoffs. “What? Dixon is great.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” I say, staring up at the ceiling. “I just said he’s … nice.”
Harleigh hums thoughtfully. “Mmhmm. Sure.”
Then she grins, wicked and knowing. “You know what didn’t look boring?” Her eyes come to me.
Charli’s attention sharpens instantly. “What?”
“That scene between you and Waylon I walked out on,” Harleigh says. She turns to Charli. “Very not boring.”
My stomach drops.
Charli twists toward me so fast that she nearly elbows Harleigh in the head. “What scene?”
Harleigh props herself up on one elbow, clearly enjoying this.
“While you were inside, beating the female fans off Bryce, I went searching for her. And, lo and behold, there she was.” She gestures to me.
“I found her out front, in the middle of a passionate conversation with Waylon. Standing close. Intense eye contact.”
Charli’s gaze drills into me. “Why would you leave the bar with Waylon?”
“I didn’t,” I say quickly. “I just went out for air. He happened to be in the parking lot.”
Harleigh raises an eyebrow. “Convenient.”
Charli crosses her arms. “So, what were you two talking so passionately about?”
I hesitate. Just for a fraction of a second too long.
They both notice.
“Shelby. Spill,” Charli demands.
I exhale slowly. “We talked about the past,” I say. “He … he doesn’t remember what happened between us.”
Her expression hardens instantly. “Bullshit.”
I wince.
“Charli—” Harleigh begins.
“No,” Charli says, sitting up straighter. “Fuck that. He can’t just invalidate your feelings like that.”
“The last thing I want to do is defend him,” I say, my voice tight. “But he seemed genuinely upset with himself.”
Harleigh tilts her head. “Maybe he was being honest.”
Charli huffs. “Or he’s a really good actor. It’s easy to pretend ignorance so you don’t have to take responsibility for your own actions.”
“Maybe.” Harleigh concedes. “But he did seem pretty confused by how hostile we all were toward him.”
She’s not wrong. I know she’s not wrong, and that makes it worse.
Harleigh’s lips curve into a slow smile. “Also … he’s a sexy daddy.”
I choke on absolutely nothing.
Charli stares at her. “Harleigh.”
“What?” she says innocently. “The eyes. The beard. The broody cowboy vibes.”
Charli rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it. “Did it make a difference?” she asks me instead. “Hearing him say he didn’t remember?”
I swallow. My throat feels tight. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Because it doesn’t change the fact that I remember every single detail.”
The words sit heavy in the air.
“It sucks,” I continue quietly, “that I’m the only one who does. I thought it was a shared moment. One he regretted maybe, but a shared one all the same. And now it’s just … mine. A singular memory.”
Harleigh’s arm slides around me, warm and steady. She pulls me in without a word, pressing my cheek against her shoulder.
“I think he might make it up to you,” she says gently. “If you give him a shot.”
I scoff weakly. “You’re crazy. One conversation doesn’t change anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know. What about that last thing he said?”
Charli perks up. “What? What did he say?”
Harleigh grins. “He made a declaration.”
Charli’s eyes narrow. “What kind of declaration?”
Harleigh looks at me, waiting.
I groan, “Nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Harleigh says, turning to Charli. “He told her that he was going to remember their next kiss.”
Charli’s lips form a perfect O.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Harleigh nods. “Yeah, that.”
My face burns. “It wasn’t—”
“I have a feeling,” Harleigh continues, completely unfazed, “that man could do a hell of a job apologizing.”
Charli considers that for exactly two seconds before nodding. “Agreed.”
Then she fixes me with a hard look. “But if you decide to let him, you’d better make him work hard for it.”
A laugh bubbles up out of me, unexpected and shaky. I press my face into Harleigh’s shoulder. “That sounds like a terrible idea,” I mumble.
“The best ones always are,” Charli says, wrapping her arms around the both of us.
Harleigh shifts.
“Can I ask something?” she says.
Charli and I both hum our agreement.
“Do you guys think Matty was acting strange? Stranger than usual, I mean.”
I stare at the ceiling. Charli exhales a short, humorless laugh.
“For weeks,” she says.
I nod. “Yeah. Longer than that, honestly.”
Harleigh props herself up on one elbow, eyes flicking between us. “Okay, because I thought maybe it was just me. Or that I was reading into things because I don’t live here anymore.”
“Nope,” Charli says. “You’re not imagining it.”
“She’s off,” I add. “Not bad exactly. Just … not herself.”
Harleigh frowns. “How?”
I search for the right words. “She’s quieter. Less piss and vinegar. She still gets things done—probably more than ever—but it’s like she’s running on fumes.”
Charli nods. “She smiles when she’s supposed to. Laughs at the right places. But it doesn’t always reach her eyes. Like she’s forcing it or something.”
“That’s exactly it,” Harleigh says softly.
Silence settles again, heavier this time.
Harleigh’s voice drops. “You think it’s Caison?”
Charli and I exchange a look over her head.
“I think,” Charli says carefully, “that they’re having trouble.”
“Or headed for it,” I add. “There’s definitely tension.”
Harleigh’s eyes widen. “But they’re so good together. Like … really good.”
“They are,” Charli agrees. “That’s why I don’t get it.”
I shift onto my side, hugging my pillow. “Matty doesn’t talk about it. Which is how I know it’s serious.”
Harleigh grimaces. “Oh no.”
She goes quiet again, chewing on her bottom lip. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, plans already forming.
Then she sits up straighter, sudden and decisive. “We cannot let them break up.”
Charli blinks. “Not sure that’s something we can control.”
“I’m serious,” Harleigh insists. “I like happy Matty.”
“So do we,” I say.
“I need happy Matty,” Harleigh continues. “I’m graduating soon.”
Charli’s eyes come to me. We know where this is headed.
“And when I come home,” Harleigh says, undeterred, “I’m going to convince her to let me start the guest ranch.”
I bark out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
Charli snorts. “Never gonna happen.”
Harleigh waves a hand. “Details. That’s future Harleigh’s problem. But she’s way more likely to say yes if she’s happy. In love. Supported. Not emotionally spiraling because her hot rancher boyfriend is pulling away.”
Charli tilts her head, considering. “I hate that logic.”
“But it’s not wrong,” I say.
Harleigh points at me triumphantly. “Thank you.”
Charli sighs. “Even if the guest ranch idea is delusional—”
“Visionary,” Harleigh corrects.
“I agree with the rest of it,” Charli finishes. “We can’t let Caison and Matty fall apart.”
“Not on our watch,” Harleigh says solemnly.
I smile despite myself. “We do all like happy Matty.”
“Love happy Matty,” Charli says. “She’s a lot easier to work for.”
Harleigh nods eagerly. “Yes! And she lets her hair down and has a good time with her sisters.”
“And she sleeps,” I add. “Actually sleeps.”
Charli sighs. “Okay. So, what are we thinking? Light meddling or full-blown intervention?”
Harleigh’s grin is immediate and dangerous. “Intervention.”
“Of course,” Charli mutters.
I laugh quietly. “We don’t even know what the problem is.”
“Which is why we need to flush it out,” Harleigh says. “Before I leave on Monday.”
“So, that gives us, what, forty-eight hours?” Charli states.
“Plenty of time,” Harleigh says brightly.
I rub my temples. “We need to be careful. Matty hates being cornered.”
“So we don’t corner her,” Harleigh says. “We gently ambush.”
Charli’s mouth quirks. “That’s an oxymoron.”
Harleigh ignores her. “We start casual. Sister time. Maybe tomorrow? What do your schedules look like?”
“They’re light, but that’s because the Wildhaven Fall Festival is tomorrow,” I remind them.
“Oh, right. Sunday? Brunch?” she suggests.
“I can do brunch,” Charli says. “You, Shell?”
“Yeah, I can make that work. We can ask Grandma to make Matty’s favorite. French toast.”
Harleigh shakes her head. “No. Not at the house. She’ll just get mad and go to her room or office. Somewhere neutral, but where she won’t feel trapped.”
“Ryse & Shine,” Charli says. “Has to be Ryse & Shine.”
“Perfect,” Harleigh says. “We’ll set her down and get to the root. We’ll lead with love.”
“And French toast,” I add. “She’ll be more agreeable if we lead with that.”
Charli points at me. “Smart.”
Harleigh’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, so phase one: Matty.”
“And phase two?” I ask.
Her smile turns tight. “Caison. Who wants to deal with him if it turns out he’s the problem?”
“My money’s on Matty being the problem.” Charli shrugs. “But if someone has to, I’ll do it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not kicking Caison in the balls.”
“I will if it’s warranted,” she snaps. “I love him, but if he’s done something to hurt her, I’ll kick him so hard that he’ll be choking on his balls.”
Harleigh flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Damn straight.”
“This feels messy,” I say.
“Yep, but sisters have to do what sisters have to do,” Harleigh declares.
I close my eyes, letting the warmth of them seep into me. The ache of the night softens, replaced by the knowledge that even if the house is quieter than it used to be, I’ll never carry anything alone.
“Okay,” Charli says, standing. “Now that that’s settled, I need to go wake up my best terrible idea.”