Chapter 41
I wake slowly, pulled from my slumber by the warmth and the steady rhythm of another person breathing against me.
Teagan. Her name moves through me before conscious thought catches up with me.
I tighten my hold around her, enjoying the weight of her in my lap, the softness tucked beneath my chin, and the already treasured reality of not being alone.
The violent wind and rain that drove us here has passed, leaving behind a fragile stillness. When I open my eyes, I’m met with the pale morning light slanting through the shack’s dirt-caked windows. It cuts across the warped floorboards, illuminating particles of dust that float lazily in the air.
Teagan, nuzzled against me, is completely bare beneath the thin blanket wrapped around us both. Her head rests against my shoulder, her hair a wild spill of honey and gold that smells faintly like rain and smoke. Her arms curl around my side, her fingers twitching slightly as she sleeps.
My hand shifts carefully, brushing along her arm, tracing the warm line of her skin as if I need the confirmation that she’s real.
That last night was real. That I didn’t imagine the way she softened for me, or how she gave herself over to me so completely.
And how—this time—I was able to accept it.
I press my lips to her temple, letting them linger there as I breathe her in. “Wildfire,” I murmur, my voice rough with sleep and emotion.
She stirs almost immediately, her body tightening slightly against mine before softening as awareness returns. Her fingers flex lightly where they rest along my ribs. She tilts her head back just enough to look at me; her eyes are still heavy with sleep.
Teagan stares up at me in silence, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
Her still-swollen lips part, and she stretches up to kiss me.
It’s slow and unhurried, not driven by the same urgency or desperation as last night.
Her mouth moves against mine like this is something we’ve done a thousand times before, like her lips were made to be pressed to mine.
When our kiss breaks, she doesn’t go far.
She rests her forehead against mine, her nose lightly dusting along my cheek as she settles back into me.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I let out a quiet breath, my hand sliding up her neck to cradle the back of her head, my thumb brushing along her jaw.
“I have a gorgeous, naked woman lying in my lap at sunrise,” I playfully reply, steering her gaze toward mine. “What man wouldn’t be okay?”
“I’m serious,” she huffs, lightly. “You know what I mean.”
I do. I know exactly what she means. She means Rosie. She means the ghost who lives in the quiet corners of me. The life I built. The woman I loved. The promises that didn’t disappear just because time kept moving.
I stare down at Teagan, searching for vulnerability that she’s trying to hide. But I don’t find it, and I realize she isn’t asking for reassurance for herself. She’s asking for me. I know she is.
Her mouth curves faintly, but she doesn’t let it go. “Are you?”
The answer isn’t as simple as yes or no. The truth is complicated.
I don’t feel consumed by guilt as I sit here with Teagan in my arms. Last night didn’t feel wrong. Actually, it feels right in a way that terrifies me, because it means my heart is hopefully capable of expanding. Of making room for something new without erasing what and who came before.
Rosie exists in the foundations of who I am, in the quiet reflexes of memory and love that shaped my life. She might hold my heart—and always will—but I need to come to terms with the fact that she’s gone.
But Teagan…
Teagan is here. Alive. Warm. Real. My eyes fall to hers, and I lose myself in the bright emerald of her eyes, and it doesn’t feel like I’m betraying Rosie. It feels like—for the first time—I’m choosing to survive her.
“Yeah,” I reply quietly, meaning the lone word as much as I am able to. “I’m okay.”
She studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to determine whether I’m telling the truth. Whatever she finds in my eyes must satisfy her, because when she relaxes again, her body snuggles more fully into mine.
Kissing her once more, slower this time, I let myself feel it without restraint. I melt into it, letting every thought and worry slip away, existing only in the heat of her lips and the quiet surrender of the moment.
We stay curled together as the sun rises.
My back is sore from sleeping on that thin unforgiving mattress, and I roll my head in an attempt to loosen the knot at the base of my neck.
“As much as I’d like to stay here with you all day, we both know we can’t.
” I rest my chin on the top of her head as my gaze pans the room, taking a catalog of our clothes still lying in sodden piles on the floor. “I’m going to grab dry clothes.”
She nods, her fingers trailing reluctantly along my arm as I shift beneath her. The blanket slips, and I pull it tighter around her before easing her gently off my lap.
The cool, damp air bites at my skin the moment I stand. I ignore it and pull on my boots. I step outside into the clean, washed world the storm left behind.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” I hiss, running across the clearing with nothing but my boots to protect me from the elements.
The horses lift their heads when they see me, their ears flicking forward in quiet acknowledgment. They’re calm, steady, and appear completely unharmed from the storm. And blissfully unaware I’m running through the mud wearing nothing but my birthday suit and a pair of cowboy boots.
I dig through saddlebags quickly, rummaging until I find what we need—dry denim, a few shirts, underwear, and socks. With my arms full, I scurry toward the shack. It might not have heat, but I am desperate to get out of the wind.
When I get back inside, Teagan is sitting up on the cot. The blanket is wrapped around her chest. Her hair is wild and beautiful in the morning light.
We dress without speaking much, the quiet between us no longer awkward or uncertain. Once we’re ready, we check the horses, making sure they’re sound before mounting. We ride the perimeter fence like we’re supposed to, but everything feels different now.
Our horses drift close together without being asked, our legs brushing occasionally, sending small, electric reminders through me that she’s here. That last night wasn’t something separate from this moment, but part of it.
Part of us.
Us?
The sun climbs higher, warming the earth beneath us and burning away the last traces of the storm.
“What happens now?” Her voice—unusually timid—breaks the silence.
I glance at her and immediately notice the uncertainty she’s trying to mask with calm.
We both know what she’s asking.
There’s only one more night before we have to return to the ranch, and reality closes in around us. One night before this fragile, isolated world disappears.
I consider the brevity of her question carefully.
I don’t have any answers. Not the kind she deserves, and definitely not the kind I wish I could give her.
“We enjoy today,” I answer honestly. “And we make the most of tonight. We can figure out the rest later.”
She watches me for a moment, then nods, accepting it for what it is. Not a promise, but not an ending.
By the time dusk approaches, we’re still a few hundred acres from the ranch. We settle on a place to camp beneath a wide stretch of open sky to enjoy the stars in the vast Montana sky. Moving around each other with an ease that feels both new and familiar, we set up the tent and build a fire.
We finish as the sun falls low on the horizon. Standing behind her, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her back to my chest. She rests against me as we watch it sink below the curve of the earth, the sky slowly falling into darkness.