Chapter 51
Fifty-One
I'M TOO TIRED TO KEEP SWIMMING AGAINST THE TIDE.
KINSLEY
I need air.
The cottage walls have been closing in on me for hours. I've done everything I can with the evidence I have. Now I just need to breathe.
Sarah's offer from this morning echoes in my head. Go for a ride. Clear your head.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I just need the mountains and the quiet and a horse beneath me. I didn’t understand the release of riding like that until Wyatt took me up to the bluff. I could go back up there, alone.
I grab my jacket and head for the barn before I can talk myself out of it.
Dust motes dance in the afternoon light slanting through the windows, and the smell of hay and leather wraps around me. I stop at Rebel’s stall to give her some attention. She nickers at me. “I know girl. I’m sorry.” I rub her neck and leather nudge my shoulder before moving on to find Ace.
Riding Ace feels dangerous. It's intimate. Like borrowing his jacket or sleeping in his shirt. A way of being close to him when I'm supposed to be keeping distance.
I'm so tired of distance.
Being away from him hasn't made anything clearer—it's only made me want him more. Giving in and dancing with him last night made me realize that whatever strength I thought I had to resist him was a lie.
I'm weak for Wyatt Halloway. Completely, pathetically weak.
"Hey, boy," I murmur, letting Ace sniff my hand before I unlatch his stall. He's calm under my touch as I slip the halter over his head, patient while I adjust the buckle.
"Headed out?"
I freeze in place, but his voice melts through my defenses like sun through frost. I cling to Ace's halter, desperate to hold onto what little resolve I have left.
Each breath becomes a battle—shallow, shaking—Ace shifts his massive weight closer, as if sensing the tremor in my hands, his warm breath huffing against my neck.
If I look up now, if I dare meet those turbulent eyes, the walls I've spent days building will crumble to dust in an instant.
"Going for a ride." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "To think."
I hear him move closer, boots quiet on the cement. The air shifts with his presence, and my body responds before my brain catches up—pulse quickening, skin warming.
"Thinking about me?" His voice is closer now.
"I'm trying not to." Honest. Defeated. I keep my eyes on Ace, on the familiar process of checking the halter.
"Kinsley." The way he says my name makes my chest ache. "Look at me."
I turn slowly, and the sight of him steals what's left of my composure.
He's standing ten feet away, hat in his hands. A day's worth of stubble shadows his jaw. Even exhausted and hollow-eyed, he's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
He takes a step closer. Then another. "I can't do this without you, Kinsley. I tried. I got on that bull thinking I could ride away from what I feel, but all I could think about was you."
Another step. He's close enough now that I can see the desperation in his eyes.
"You're everything to me. The land, the legacy, the ranch—none of it matters if you're not here." His voice drops lower. "I love you. And you love me. I know you do."
I close my eyes against the truth of his words, fighting the current pulling me toward him.
Nothing's changed—the baby, Brittney, Martinez's schemes—they're all still there, immovable obstacles between us.
But standing here, breathing the same air as him, feeling the weight of his gaze, I'm too tired to keep swimming against the tide.
He sees my silence for what it is—surrender—that loving him was never a choice I had the power to make or unmake.
His expression shifts, hope and determination mixing together as he asks for something more. "If the baby's mine—will you help me raise it?"
The question steals the air from my lungs. I stare at him, certain I misheard. "You want me to what?"
"Love a child that's not yours." He moves closer, close enough that I can smell coffee and leather on him. "I'm asking if you could do that. If you love me enough to love whatever comes with me."
My mind races. With my parents, it was cut and dry. Yes or no. Stay or leave. There was no middle ground, no option where love was complicated but still worth fighting for.
But Wyatt's offering me something different. A third choice I didn't know existed.
"You could be everything to both of us," Wyatt says quietly as he hangs his hat on a rail. "You could be the person who chooses to love that kid not because you have to, but because you want to. Because you love me."
Something cracks open in my chest.
I think about that baby—innocent, unaware. Deserving of love. What if we could give that child more? What if love could multiply instead of divide?
That baby could have Brittany, yes. But it could also have me. Have Wyatt. Have Oscar and Sarah and Brook and Hank. Have a whole ranch full of people who choose to love it simply because it exists.
More love, not less.
I think about my own childhood—how much I would have given for just one more person who chose me. Who fought for me. Who stayed.
I could be that person for this baby. "Yes." My voice comes out stronger than I expected.
Wyatt's eyes search mine. "You mean that?"
"I mean it." And I do.
His shoulders drop like I've released him from something heavy. Relief floods his face, washing away the tension that had been etched there since he walked in.
"You love me," he says, and it's not a question. The words come out rough-edged and reverent, like a prayer he's afraid to speak too loudly. He steps forward and puts his hands on my hips, his fingers pressing gently as if testing whether I'm real.
The words catch in my throat. I've been so careful not to say them, like keeping them locked inside would somehow protect me if this all falls apart. But looking at him now, I realize that not saying it hasn't protected me at all.
I'm already his.
"I love you." The words come out rough, honest. "I love you so much.”
The kiss starts gentle, almost tentative, like he's afraid I might disappear. But I'm done disappearing. Done running. Done protecting a heart that's already his whether I admit it or not.
I surge up, threading my fingers into his hair, and the kiss turns fierce. His stubble scrapes my skin, his heartbeat thunders against mine, and everything that's been broken between us starts to knit back together.
His hands slide from my hips to my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. The kiss deepens with promises neither of us knew how to make until now.
When he breaks away to breathe, his lips trail along my jaw, down to that sensitive spot below my ear that makes my knees weak. "Say it again," he murmurs against my skin.
"I love you." The words come easier this time. "I love you, Wyatt Halloway."
He captures my mouth again, and this kiss is slower, sweeter.
The callouses on his palms catch slightly on the fabric of my shirt as his thumbs trace small circles against my hipbones, sending shivers racing up my spine.
We break apart and he pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me like he's afraid I'll change my mind and bolt.
I can hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, real.
I rest my forehead against him and just breathe him in. This is what I've been fighting. This feeling of safety. Standing here in his arms, I want to give him something—hope.
Even if it doesn't work out. Even if the case I'm building falls apart. He should know that someone believes in him enough to fight.
"There's something else," I say against his shirt. "Something you need to know."
He pulls back slightly to look at me.
"Martinez is the one who had your land rezoned. Janet found records—he targeted your family specifically because Brittany wanted you." The words come out in a rush.
Wyatt goes still. "What?"
"He manipulated the fire hazard designation specifically to force your hand." I watch understanding dawn across his face. "I think it was right after she entered to win the blind date with you.”
"That—" he says a name
I poke him in the ribs. “Your mamma would wash your mouth out with soap for using that word.”
He grins down at me. “My mamma taught me that word.” He kisses my forehead. “I want to crush him.”
“Me too.” I smile. “But so far all we have is your word against his.”
He pulls me closer, pressing another kiss to my temple. "Something will come up. It has to."
"It will."
He's quiet for a moment, then his hand tightens on mine. "The ultrasound is Thursday. Will you come with me? I don't want to go without you."
"Yes." I squeeze his hand back. "We're not separating again."
"Never," he agrees.