Chapter 10 #2
“Yeah. I did.” Shame burned in my chest. “I told Dawson you weren't planning on staying. That this was only a job for you. That once the rodeo was approved, you'd probably move on to something bigger.”
“You said that?” She looked like I'd slapped her.
“I was wrong.” The admission came easier than I expected. “I was trying to protect myself by assuming you'd leave before you had the chance to decide. And that's not fair to you. It's not fair to either of us.”
Morgan wrapped her arms around herself, and I hated that she needed the armor. Hated that I'd made her feel like she had to protect her heart from me.
“I spent my whole life being the Kincaid nobody believed in,” I said. “The reckless one. The screw-up who couldn't be trusted with anything important. And I got so used to people writing me off that I started doing it first. Before they could.”
“I never wrote you off.” Her voice came out soft and sad.
“I know. That's what scared me.” I took another step closer. “Because you saw me, Morgan. Really saw me. And I didn't know what to do with that.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching my face. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying I was wrong to push you away. Wrong to assume you'd leave. Wrong not to acknowledge my feelings because I was afraid.” I closed the remaining distance between us. “I don't want you to go.”
Her breath caught. “Slade—”
“I know you've got a career to build. I know Mustang Mountain might not be where you planned to end up. But I'm asking you to stay anyway.” My voice roughened. “Not for the rodeo. Not for the town. For me.”
“That's not fair,” she whispered, but her eyes were bright.
“Why not?”
“Because you can't—” She shook her head. “You spent two days avoiding me. Acting like nothing happened. And now you want me to what? Forget that? Pretend it didn't hurt?”
“No.” I reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull away. “I want you to let me make it right.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“By being honest. By not running scared every time this feels too real.” I laced my fingers through hers. “By choosing you, even when it's complicated. Especially when it's complicated.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she swiped it away. “This is too complicated. The rodeo, the town, that marker we found—”
“I know.” The fucking marker again. I'd been trying not to think about what it might mean or what it could unravel. “That marker's going to cause problems. It might prove the boundary line's wrong, might drag up the old Kincaid-Hollister feud, might throw everything into question.”
“And you're okay with that?”
“No.” I brought her hand to my chest, pressed it over my heart. “But I'd rather face it with you than alone.”
Her expression cracked just enough to let something vulnerable break through. “You really mean that.”
“Yeah, I do.” I cupped her face with my free hand. “I don't know how this ends. Don't know if the marker's going to blow up in our faces or if the rodeo will survive whatever comes next. But I know I want you here. I know I trust you. And I know I'm done pretending I don't.”
“Slade—” Her voice broke.
“Tell me what you want, Morgan. Not what you think you should want. Not what's practical or safe. What you actually want.”
She looked up at me, tears spilling over her lower lids. But when she spoke, her voice was steady and sure. “I want to stay.”
My chest unclenched. “Really?”
“But not if you're going to keep bracing for me to leave.” She stepped closer, her free hand coming up to rest against my jaw. “Not if you're going to keep one foot out the door in case this doesn't work.”
“I won't,” I promised. “I'm done running.”
“Then prove it.”
I kissed her. Slow and deliberate, pouring everything I'd been too afraid to say into that single point of contact.
She made a soft sound and kissed me back, her hand sliding into my hair, anchoring me to her.
When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.
“I'm scared,” I admitted. “Scared I'll mess this up. Scared that marker's going to tear everything apart. Scared the town will make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “But I'm more scared of walking away and wondering what we could've been.”
I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her. She fit against me like she belonged there, and maybe she did. Maybe that was what I'd been too stubborn to see—that belonging wasn't something you earned through perfection. It was something you built through showing up.
“The marker,” she said against my chest. “We need to deal with it properly. No more avoiding it.”
“I know.” I tightened my hold on her. “Whatever it proves—about the land, about my family—we'll handle it.”
“Together?” she asked, echoing what I'd said in the cabin.
“Together,” I confirmed.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, and for the first time since she'd arrived at the ranch, she smiled. A real smile, warm and unguarded, and it hit me harder than any eight-second ride ever had.
“So what now?” she asked.
“Now we figure out what partnership actually looks like.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Starting with being honest about what we need.”
“I need you to stop deciding for me,” she said. “If I'm going to stay—and I want to stay—I need to know you'll let me choose that. Every day.”
“Done.” I traced my thumb across her cheekbone. “And I need you to be patient with me when I screw up. Because I will.”
“I can do that.” Her smile turned wry. “As long as you actually tell me when something's wrong instead of going silent.”
“Deal.”
We stood there in the snow, the mountains rising around us, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, the future didn't feel like something to brace against. It felt like something to build.
“There is one more thing I need,” I said, taking her hand. “I need to tell you I love you, Morgan Carter. I’ve never said that to anyone before, never even thought I was capable of feeling something that strong and deep.”
She looked up at me, her blue eyes brighter than I’d ever seen them before. “I love you too, Slade.”
“Good. Let's go inside then. We've got plans to make.”
Her fingers tightened around mine. “About the rodeo?”
“About everything.” I looked down at her, this woman who'd driven into town with a job to do and ended up seeing past every wall I'd built. “Starting with making sure you know you're not temporary. Not to me.”
Her eyes went bright again, but this time she was smiling through it. “Good. Because I'm not planning on being easy to get rid of.”
I tightened my arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn't want you any other way.”
We walked back toward the ranch house together, and somewhere in the distance, the marker sat buried under snow and time and secrets.
It would need to be addressed—the land dispute, the history, all of it.
But right now, standing with Morgan's hand in mine, I finally understood what Dawson had been trying to tell me.
The real risk wasn't in what the marker might reveal. It was in letting fear write the ending before we'd even started. And I was done letting fear win.