Chapter 15 #2
The excitement of auction day is always laced with something heavier. Saying goodbye never gets easier. These horses are family. And for one awful moment, I wonder, What if this is my last auction? The thought hits like a hoof to the ribs.
“I’m driving,” I say, stepping around to the driver’s side before Dylan can argue.
But he just tosses me the keys. “Works for me.”
I blink. “Huh.”
“What?” he asks, the teasing tone he used in his bedroom gone.
“I figured you’d be the type of man to insist on driving.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never driven with a trailer before. I want to practice around the ranch before I take it out on the road. Assuming you’re not planning any sudden braking today?”
My grip tightens on the keys, but I let the jab slide and climb in.
We drive in silence. It’s awkward. In that way that feels like we’re both one breath away from fighting some more. Awkward in a way that makes me want to saddle up and ride hard into the hills until the noise in my head quiets down. The only thing that’s ever worked.
Then Dylan pulls a thermos from the bag at his feet and places two cups in the holders, pouring coffee into both.
“Figured we could use the boost.”
I glance over, surprised. “Thanks.”
“So,” Dylan starts. “Tell me everything I need to know about this auction.”
“It’s all about knowing when to sell and who to sell to,” I explain.
“Some trainers prefer foals young so they can break them in themselves and tailor their training from the start. Others want them older, with groundwork already done—haltered, saddled, and used to commands. Timing’s a big factor, too.
Buyers are always thinking ahead to the next rodeo season or their breeding schedules.
The bidding can get heated—especially if it’s a foal like ours with good bloodlines in events like cutting or barrel racing. ”
“So we’re not buying today?” Dylan asks.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’ve already got your hands full, remember? Later down the line, if you decide to keep the horses, you’ll need to think about expanding—new mares for breeding or maybe a stud stallion to bring in fresh bloodlines. For now, though, we’re here to sell.”
I try not to think about the “if” in my comment and how it seems to hang between us like an unanswered question.
He nods, staring into the distance for a while before speaking again. “Madison would’ve loved today.”
I smile at the thought. “Yeah. She would.” But there’s hesitation in my voice I can’t quite swallow, and I know Dylan picks up on it.
“What?” he asks.
I take a quick sip of my coffee. Keep my eyes on the road. A whole minute passes and Dylan doesn’t try to fill the silence.
“I just don’t know if ranching is what’s best for her.”
His brow furrows. “You don’t think she’s happy?”
“No, she is. She loves ranch life. But sometimes I wonder if I’m being selfish.
Ranching is my dream, not hers, and it’s not exactly stable.
” My hands tighten on the wheel. “My parents want us to live with them. It’d mean security.
Madison would have her own room in an actual home, not a pull-down bed in a trailer.
Plus, she could do any extracurriculars she wants.
Choices I can’t give her while ranching. ”
“But…” Dylan prompts.
“But I felt so trapped in that life. Like I didn’t belong. Everything I did, I felt like I was a disappointment.”
“So why consider it for Mad?”
I bite my lip. “Because she already has one unreliable parent. Hooper flits in and out of her life, forever breaking his promises. I can’t protect her from that. But I can be the one to give her structure and stability.”
“And you don’t think she has that with you right now?”
I sigh. “If I could split myself in two, live both lives, see which one makes her happiest… God, I would. But I don’t get that luxury. I just have to guess and hope I’m not screwing it all up.”
“For what it’s worth, Mad is a great kid,” Dylan says. “She’s happy and smart and confident as hell. So whatever you’re doing, Brooks, it’s working.”
The hum of the tires on asphalt fills the silence. I focus on that, fighting a lump in my throat. Being a single parent means never having anyone to tell you that you’re doing a good job. Hearing these words from Dylan means more than it should.
“Thank you,” I reply. “And maybe you’re not a total jerk.”
He huffs a laugh. “High praise.” Dylan is quiet for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m trying, Iz. I’m really trying to get my head around my football career ending and what my future looks like.
” He hesitates, like he might say more, and my heart thumps harder in the pause.
“There’s less than three weeks left on your contract.
I know that. I haven’t forgotten. I just…
I promise I’ll do better. I’ll figure it out. ”
I glance over, expecting the usual brooding grump—that edge to his dark eyes telling me to back off—but there’s only honesty and a flicker of raw vulnerability I’ve never seen in him before.
And damn it if it doesn’t hit me square in the chest. We both have a decision to make.
Dylan about the ranch and football. Me about my future and Mad’s.
The weight of it sits heavy in my stomach.
Dylan made a deal with Bill to keep me on for six weeks.
But just for a second, I want to ask him, what will happen when my time is up?
Is he just waiting for the time to pass so he can sell the horses without feeling guilty? Or is there a chance…?
I can’t bring myself to think about the question trying to break into my thoughts, let alone voice it.
In the last few hours, I’ve swung from being furious at Dylan for oversleeping to practically drooling over his body to flirting—if that’s what it was.
I can’t trust my own feelings toward him. And I sure as hell can’t trust him.
But when I glance over at him again, I find myself wondering if there’s more to this man than I’ve let myself believe. And maybe… just maybe… I don’t actually hate Dylan as much as I’ve been trying to tell myself.