Chapter 50
Fifty
THE ONLY WAY TO PROTECT YOUR HEART IS TO COMPLETELY WALL IT OFF.
KINSLEY
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Wyatt saying he loved me. I felt his arms around me like he could hold me together through sheer force of will.
Tell me I'm wrong. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, and I'll walk away right now.
I couldn't say it. Couldn't lie to him.
He came back for me. No one’s ever done that before and I just … I mean if that’s not love, what is?
I love him. The kind of love that wrecks you for anyone else.
Admitting that only makes everything hurt worse and be more confusing.
Then there's the story he told me about the pain medication. Part of me wants to believe him so badly. If it's true—if he really doesn't remember anything—then he's not the guy who got careless with a buckle bunny.
The other part of me—the part that learned early not to trust men's excuses—whispers that it's too convenient. Too perfect of an explanation. What if I want to believe him so badly that I'm ignoring red flags I'd spot in a heartbeat if he were anyone else?
But then I remember the look in his eyes when he told me. The shame. The anger at himself. That was the voice of someone who hates not knowing the truth as much as I do.
So which version is true? The innocent man caught in impossible circumstances, or the guy who got himself into this mess and now regrets it.
I don't know.
My coffee cup goes cold in my hand as I stare out the window and try to make sense of it all.
He's up at the main house, so close it's killing me.
The September morning stretches across the valley, painting the distant mountains in hazy purple while golden light catches on the dew-soaked pastures.
Wisps of fog hover just above the ground, burning away minute by minute as the sun climbs higher.
A few horses graze by the fence line, their breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air.
Even in my heartbreak, the beauty of Stonegate Ranch feels like a physical ache—this place I've come to love almost as much as the man who belongs to it.
My phone rings, Mom's name lighting up the screen. "Hey, Mom," I answer.
"Just checking in,” she says, her tone cautious and I immediately know she’s seen the headlines about the bull rider and the senator’s daughter. “How are you doing after the big event?" she pauses. “There’s a lot of talk about it online.”
I lean against the counter, trying to find words that don't make me sound as broken as I feel. I decide to just be honest and let it all out. "I feel like a pile of crap, honestly.” I pause because I don’t want to fill her in on everything and I’m not ready to share the information about the case I’m building against the Senator.
I take a breath. "I found out Wyatt's going to be a father so that put a damper on my whole life.
" I shake my head. “But I guess you probably already know that.”
The silence on the other end has me nervous. "I’m sure it will make you feel better to know that we’ve broken things off.”
"That doesn't make me feel better, sweetheart. I'm so sorry you're going through this."
I am so twisted in love with this guy that I have to defend him. "He came back last night. He—" My voice catches. "He said he's not marrying Brittany because he’s in love with me.”
She sucks in air through her teeth. "Oh, honey."
"I want to believe him." I don't do vulnerable well. Never have. “I want to believe we can figure this out somehow. But there's a baby coming, and I can't be the bad guy in its life.” Not like Ford was for me.
Mom's quiet for a moment. "The only way to protect your heart is to completely wall it off.
Seal it up so tight nothing can get in or out.
" She pauses. "It makes it harder to love others, though.
People who deserve to be loved. There were times I couldn't give you the love you needed because my heart was sealed and I'm sorry about that. "
The confession catches me off guard. "Mom, you're a great mother. I know you love me."
"I do. But I also know what it's like to love a man and have no choice but to let him go.” Her voice wavers slightly. "I had you, and I knew you would be enough family for me.”
Is that who I'll become? Someone who moves through life protected but alone?
I know what it's like to grow up with a father who chose not to be there. I can't be selfish enough to take what I want at the cost of an innocent baby who deserves better.
A knock on my door interrupts the spiraling thoughts.
"Mom, I have to go. Someone's here."
"Okay. I’ll call again in a couple of days.” We hang up and I head for the door.
Sarah Halloway’s on my doorstep holding a basket of muffins and wearing a determined expression that reminds me so much of Wyatt my chest aches.
"Good morning." She doesn't wait for an invitation, just walks past me into the cottage. "I brought breakfast. Have you eaten?"
In the last five days? No, I have not. "Not really."
"I figured." She sets the basket on the counter and starts pulling out muffins—blueberry, banana nut, something that smells like cinnamon and apples. "Sit down. I’ll bring it over to you."
I sit at the small kitchen table while she moves around my space.
The table is covered with folders and papers—the case I've been building against Senator Martinez. I start gathering them quickly, not wanting her to see the evidence I've compiled. It may not work out and I can’t bear to get her hopes up.
She sets a plate with two muffins in front of me and takes the chair across from me. "Eat," she commands, and I obey because saying no to Sarah Halloway feels impossible.
The muffin is still warm, buttery and perfect. I didn't realize how hungry I was until the first bite. Funny how heartbreak makes you forget basic things like eating. It’s like my body's too busy dealing with pain to remember it needs fuel.
Sarah watches me eat with the satisfied expression of a woman who knows food is love in its most basic form. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
I swallow, bracing myself. "Okay."
"You said you were staying until Wyatt came home or we finished this fight with the government." She gestures vaguely toward the ranch beyond the windows. "Well, Wyatt's home now, and he seems to have his head on straight. But I'm not ready to lose you.”
"I'll stay," I say quietly.
Sarah blinks, clearly surprised by how easily I agreed. "You will?"
I give her a half-smile that feels like it might crack my face. "I made it through the hardest part, which was seeing him again for the first time. And I need to see this through.”
It's a lie wrapped in truth. The case against Martinez is real. And if I can prove what he did, maybe I can save the ranch.
The problem is proof.
I have paper trails that show Martinez initiated the fire hazard designation process. I have evidence that suggests he manipulated environmental studies to support the designation.
But none of it proves his motives were self-serving. Senators propose policy changes all the time. It's not illegal unless I can prove he used his position specifically for personal gain.
And the only person who can testify to that is Wyatt—his word against a sitting senator's about a private conversation where Martinez allegedly threatened to destroy the ranch unless Wyatt married his daughter.
It's not enough. Not for a congressional hearing. Not for the kind of takedown that would actually stop Martinez.
I need more. But I'm running out of places to look.
Sarah reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. "Don't sacrifice your happiness trying to save everyone else. You’re allowed to be happy too.”
I huff a breath that says I don’t believe her.
"I know. I did that for a long time too.” Her smile is sad and knowing. "But Oscar taught me that I’m worth loving without having to prove it—you are too.”
Her advice is exactly what I need and didn't know how to ask for.
She stands and starts gathering the dishes. "You should go for a ride this afternoon. Clear your head.”
This is the second time she’s tried to get me on a horse. "I might do that,” I say to appease her.
"Good." She leaves and I turn back to my case files, spreading them across the table in neat categories: property records, environmental studies, communications logs, financial transfers. Everything organized, everything documented.
Everything except the one piece that would make it all matter. I just have to dig deeper. Somewhere in all this paper, there's a thread I haven't pulled yet—one that unravels everything Martinez built.
I’m going to burry myself in work because if last night proved anything–it’s that I’m too much in love with Wyatt to tell him no. If he showed up on my doorstep I’d let him in the cottage and back in my heart. The love is too strong, and I'm too weak when it comes to him.