Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Hazel
The alarm goes off at three-thirty and I'm already awake.
Eli's arm is heavy across my waist, his chest warm against my back, breath even and slow in the dark. We're in his cabin again. It's become easier to just stay.
I slip out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him, but his hand catches my wrist before I make it two steps.
"Where you going?" His voice is rough with sleep.
"Training. Four a.m., remember?"
"It's three-thirty."
"I need to grab clean clothes from Mae's first."
He tugs gently and I let him pull me back down, sitting on the edge of the bed. His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist.
"You could just keep clothes here," he says.
The offer hangs between us. Casual. Not casual at all.
"That would be convenient," I admit.
"Very convenient."
I lean down and kiss him. "I'll think about it."
A week ago, my boss gave me one final extension on my leave. One more week to "get things settled with family." That time is almost up now. Fall Classic is a week and a half away, and Lauren is expecting me back.
I haven't told anyone I'm even thinking about staying. Not Denver. Not Eli. Not Mae.
I don't know how to say it out loud when I'm still not sure what the answer is.
Eli releases my wrist and stretches, muscles shifting under skin in the dim light from the window. "I'll put coffee on."
By the time I'm dressed and in the kitchen, he's already there. Jeans low on his hips, no shirt yet, hair sticking up in about five different directions. He hands me a mug without a word and I take it, letting the warmth seep into my palms.
I lean against the counter, taking that first sip, and he moves behind me. His arms come around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, chin resting on my shoulder.
"Morning," he murmurs against my neck.
"You already said that."
"Felt like saying it again."
I smile into my coffee, letting myself lean into him. His skin is warm, solid, and I can feel his heartbeat against my back. Slow and steady.
This. This is what I didn't know I was missing.
His arms around me while the sun comes up. The easy silence that doesn't need filling.
We stand like that for a long moment, just breathing together, and I let myself pretend this could be every morning.
"We should go," I say eventually.
"We should." Neither of us moves. His arms tighten slightly, and he presses a kiss to my temple before letting me go.
The drive to Clark Ranch is quiet, his truck rumbling through the pre-dawn dark, my hand on his thigh. When we pull up to the barn, Mae's kitchen light is already on, same as every morning.
The colt nickers when he hears us approaching his stall. Two weeks of consistent work and he's starting to anticipate the routine. Look forward to it, even.
Eli grabs the halter and I follow him in, running my hand down the colt's neck while Eli clips the lead.
"He feels good," I say.
"He does."
We lead him out to the round pen and fall into the rhythm we've built. Eli warms him up on the lunge line while I watch, checking his movement, looking for any sign of soreness or resistance.
There's none.
Just smooth, powerful strides. Confidence in every step.
Addie shows up at four-thirty, right on schedule, already talking about the pattern she wants to work on. She rides for an hour while Eli and I watch, making small adjustments, calling out encouragement.
The colt is ready. Really ready. You can see it in the way he moves—listening, trusting, confident. Addie sits him like she was born to it.
Renee's two horses are arriving next week, right after the Classic. Two more inquiries came in yesterday. Mae's started talking about hiring help for mucking stalls.
Everything is working.
Everything.
By the time we cool the colt down and turn him out, the sun's fully up, painting everything gold.
"Same time tomorrow?" Addie asks, already heading toward her truck.
"Same time," I confirm.
She waves and drives off, and it's just me and Eli standing in the barn aisle.
He steps closer, hand finding my hip. "You got plans today?"
"Besides the usual? Not really."
"Good." His mouth curves. "Because I'm taking you somewhere."
"Where?"
"It's a surprise."
I raise an eyebrow. "A surprise."
"Yeah. And before you start listing all the things that need doing—the fence line can wait. The hay delivery's not until tomorrow. Mae's got the afternoon covered." He tips my chin up. "One day, Hazel. Just us."
Something warm unfurls in my chest. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His smile is slow and devastating. "Go get changed. Something comfortable. I'll pick you up in an hour."
An hour later, I'm standing on Mae's porch when his truck pulls up.
I've changed into jeans and a soft flannel shirt, boots that have seen better days, hair pulled back in a loose braid. Mae watched me get ready with a knowing look but didn't ask questions.
Eli gets out, and I notice the bed of his truck is loaded with something covered by a tarp.
"What's all that?" I ask, climbing in.
"You'll see."
We drive out past the main pastures, past the fence lines I know by heart, toward the back corner of Dawson property where the land starts to roll and the trees get thicker. I haven't been out here in years—not since we were teenagers and used to ride out to explore.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"You'll recognize it when we get there."
The road narrows to a dirt track, then disappears altogether. He pulls off near a stand of pines and kills the engine.
When I step out, I can see the ridge through the trees. The spot where the property overlooks the valley, where you can see for miles on a clear day.
My breath catches. "Eli."
"Come on."
He grabs a basket from the truck bed, along with a blanket, and leads me through the trees. The ground slopes up gently, pine needles soft under our boots, the air smelling like sun-warmed sap and wild grass.
When we break through the tree line, the view opens up.
Rolling hills. The valley spreading out below us, green and gold and endless. Mountains in the distance, still capped with snow. The sky so blue it almost hurts to look at.
"I forgot how beautiful this is," I say quietly.
"I know." He sets the basket down and spreads the blanket in the shade of a massive pine. "Used to come out here when I needed to think. After you left."
Something tightens in my chest.
He unpacks the basket—sandwiches, fruit, cold drinks, cookies that look suspiciously like Mae's recipe.
"Did Mae know about this?" I ask.
"She might've helped with the food." He grins. "And she might've told me I was an idiot if I didn't bring you out here."
I laugh and settle onto the blanket beside him. "Mae's a romantic."
"Mae's smart."
We eat slowly, talking about nothing important.
The weather. The colt. Addie's nerves about the Classic.
He tells me about Chace getting into an argument with a fence post that the fence post definitely won.
I tell him about the woman from the next county who wants to board three horses if we have space.
"We might need to expand the barn," I say, reaching for another cookie.
"We could. There's room on the north side. Wouldn't be hard to add six stalls."
We.
The word hangs between us.
I don't correct it.
After we eat, I lie back on the blanket, looking up through the pine branches at the sky. Eli settles beside me, propped on one elbow, looking down at me.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just—" He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "You look happy."
"I am happy."
"Good." His hand lingers, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "You deserve to be."
My throat tightens. "Eli—"
He leans down and kisses me. Soft. Sweet. Not urgent or desperate like it's been lately. Just tender.
I kiss him back, hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. He settles over me, careful not to put his full weight on me, one hand cradling my face.
The kiss deepens. His tongue slides against mine and I make a soft sound, fingers curling into his shirt. He responds by pressing closer, his body warm and solid against mine.
His mouth leaves mine to trail along my jaw, down my neck, finding that spot below my ear that makes me gasp. His hand slides under my shirt, palm warm against my ribs.
"Eli," I breathe.
"Hmm?"
"Someone could—"
"No one comes out here." His mouth curves against my skin. "Just us."
His hand moves higher, thumb brushing the underside of my breast through my bra, and heat floods through me. I arch into him and he groans, low and rough.
"Hazel."
My name sounds like a prayer.
I pull him back down into a kiss, hands sliding up his back, and he responds by settling more fully against me. I can feel him, hard against my hip, and the wanting is sudden and overwhelming.
"Yeah?" he asks, voice rough, eyes dark.
"Yeah."
After, we lie tangled together on the blanket, the sun warm on our skin, the breeze carrying the scent of pine and wild grass. His arm is solid around my waist, my head on his chest, our breathing slowly evening out.
"This was a good idea," I murmur.
I feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. "Told you."
"You're very smug about it."
"I earned it."
I laugh and swat at him weakly. He catches my hand, threading our fingers together, and brings them to his lips.
For a long time, we just lie there. Breathing. Existing. The world quiet except for the wind in the pines and the distant call of a hawk.
"Fall Classic's coming up fast," he says eventually.
"Ten days."
"You nervous?"
"A little. More for Addie than anything. She's ready, but it's still a lot of pressure."
"She'll be fine. She's got you." He pauses. "We've got a good thing going here, Hazel."
The words settle heavy in my chest.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "We do."
He's quiet for a moment, his hand still tracing patterns on my back. "After the Classic, with Renee's horses coming, and those other inquiries—we're going to need help. Real help. Maybe someone full-time to manage the cattle."
We.
There it is again.
"That makes sense," I manage.
"Mae mentioned you've been keeping track of everything. Schedules, clients, feed orders. Said you're good at it."
"It's just organization."
"It's more than that." He shifts so he can look at me. "You're building something here. We are."
My throat feels tight. "Eli—"
"I'm not asking for anything," he says quietly. "I'm just saying—whatever happens, whatever you decide—this place is better with you in it. I'm better with you in it."
The words land like stones in still water, rippling outward, impossible to ignore.
I want to tell him. Want to say that I'm thinking about staying, that I haven't told Denver yet, that I have six days to make a choice that feels impossible.
But the words stick in my throat.
Because what if I choose wrong? What if I stay and can't make it work? What if I leave and regret it for the rest of my life?
"Come on," he says, sitting up and pulling me with him. "We should head back before Mae sends a search party."
We pack up the blanket and basket, our movements slow and easy, and I try to memorize this. The view. The way the light falls through the trees. The way his hand feels in mine.
The way it feels to be happy.
That night, I'm alone in my room at Mae's, staring at my phone.
Email notification from Lauren. Subject: Final Decision - Need Confirmation by Wednesday
Wednesday.
Six days from now.
The day after Fall Classic.
I open it.
Hazel,
I need your final answer by end of business Wednesday. If you're staying in Montana, I need to know so I can move forward with other candidates for your position. If you're coming back, I need a return date.
This is the last extension. I need to hear from you.
- Lauren
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling.
Everything is working. The ranch. The colt. The boarders. Eli.
Everything is finally, impossibly working.
And in six days, I have to choose.
Stay here and build something real. Or go back to the life I spent five years creating.
I don't know how to choose between two futures when both feel like losing something I can't afford to lose.
The worst part is, I still haven't told Eli. Haven't told Mae. Haven't told anyone that this choice is even in front of me.
Because saying it out loud makes it real.
And I'm not ready for it to be real yet.