Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Eli
Four days since our picnic.
Four days since I took her out to the ridge and let myself believe this could last. Since then, it's been more of the same—waking up with her tangled in sheets that have smelled like her for weeks now.
Driving to the ranch together in the pre-dawn dark, her hand on my thigh, coffee in the cupholder, comfortable silence that doesn't need filling.
It's become routine. Expected.
She hasn't gone back to Mae's since the night we started this. Keeps a toothbrush in my bathroom now. Leaves hair ties on my nightstand. Her boots by the door next to mine.
I should probably feel like it's moving too fast.
I don't.
This is what I've wanted my whole life. Her. Here. Choosing to stay.
There's just this one thing. Small. Barely worth mentioning.
Her phone's been buzzing more. She checks it, face going careful, then puts it away without saying anything. When I ask if everything's okay, she smiles and says "Yeah, fine," and kisses me until I stop asking.
I tell myself it's nothing.
My phone vibrates while I'm in the shower. Chace.
Chace: Lake tonight- Don’t forget. Everyone's going. Bring beer.
I stare at the message for a second, water running down my back, then type back.
Me: Yeah, I'll be there.
Chace: Bring your girl.
The text comes with three emojis—winky face, chili pepper, eggplant—because Chace is nothing if not subtle.
I don't respond to that. Just finish rinsing off and get out, towel around my waist.
I'm pulling on a clean shirt when Hazel emerges from the bedroom, still buttoning her cutoff shorts. She's wearing one of my flannels over a tank top, tucked in on one side, left loose on the other. Her hair's down, falling past her shoulders in waves.
She crosses to the door where her boots are waiting next to mine and pulls them on.
I watch her pull them on, those long legs on full display, shorts sitting high on her thighs, and something twists low in my gut.
"What?" she asks, catching me staring.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
She grins and grabs her jacket, and I'm still standing there wondering if I'll ever stop wanting her this intensely. If this need will ever settle into something manageable instead of constant.
Probably not.
"Come on," she says. "We're gonna be late."
"Yeah. Let's go."
***
The drive to the lake is quiet in the best way.
Her hand lands on my thigh automatically. The way it always does now. I thread our fingers together and she leans back with that soft sigh I've learned means she's content.
"Shae's been harassing me about tonight," she says.
"She give you the 'people will forget you exist' speech?"
"How'd you know?"
"She gave it to me too."
Hazel laughs. "We really are terrible at being social."
"Maybe we're not regular people."
"Maybe not."
The clearing comes into view a few minutes later. Trucks everywhere, parked at angles, headlights cutting through the growing dark. Music thumps loud enough to feel in my chest even with the windows up. Firelight flickers through the trees, orange and gold against the night.
I find a spot near the edge and park. For a second, we just sit there, engine ticking as it cools.
"You good?" she asks.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
She reaches for the door handle and I catch her wrist, pulling her back for a quick kiss. She smiles against my mouth.
"What was that for?" she asks.
"Nothing. Just wanted to."
Her eyes soften. "Come on. Before Chace sends a search party."
We grab beer from the back and head toward the noise. The heat from the fire hits as soon as we clear the trees. People everywhere—faces we've known our whole lives, voices layered over each other until they blur into one continuous hum.
Chace spots us immediately and grins. "Well, well. Look who showed."
"Don't start," I warn.
"I'm not starting anything." His grin widens. "Just observing."
Shae appears, barefoot, cup in hand. She takes one look at us and smirks. "Oh good. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you both here myself."
"You're very dramatic," Hazel says.
"It's part of my charm."
The group pulls us in. Someone hands me a beer. Someone else launches into a story. The fire crackles and spits, heat rolling off it in waves.
I end up standing next to Hazel, close enough that our arms brush. She leans into me slightly, and I slide my hand to her lower back without thinking. Just resting there.
She glances up at me, something soft in her eyes.
"You two want a chair?" Chace asks, gesturing to the empty spots near the fire.
"We're good," I say.
Hazel shifts closer, her hip against mine, and I keep my hand where it is.
I stand there with my arm around her waist, beer in hand, listening to Chace tell some story about a date that went sideways, and I realize I'm happy.
Not just content. Happy.
This is what I wanted. Her. Here. Part of things. Part of my life. Not hiding. Not temporary.
Or at least, it doesn't feel temporary.
She leans into me, laughing at something Shae said, and I press a kiss to her temple without thinking.
Chace sees it and grins. "You two are disgusting."
"Jealous," I shoot back.
"Extremely."
Hazel looks up at me, smiling, and something in my chest settles.
This is right.
This is—
Her phone buzzes.
She pulls it out, glances at the screen, and goes still.
I feel it immediately. The way her body tenses against mine. The way her smile disappears. The way she takes a half-step away, breaking contact.
"I'll be right back," she says.
"You good?" Shae asks.
"Yeah. Just need to take this."
She's already walking away, phone pressed to her ear.
I watch her go, that happy certainty from thirty seconds ago evaporating.
My hand tightens on my beer.
The conversation flows around me. Someone mentions Fall Classic—only a week out now. Addie lights up, talking about the colt, how confident she feels, how ready they are.
"Hazel's amazing with him," Addie says, grinning. "Seriously. He listens to her better than anyone."
"That's all you," I say automatically. "You're the one riding him."
But I'm not really listening. My attention tracks Hazel, standing alone by the water, her free hand gesturing as she talks.
She's gone maybe five minutes. When she comes back, the ease from before is gone. She takes her place beside me, but there's distance now. She's composed. Guarded. I put my arm back around her waist.
"Everything okay?" Shae asks.
"Yeah. Just—that was my boss. In Denver."
The fire crackles in the sudden silence.
My arm is still around her waist. I don't move it. Don't pull away.
But something inside me goes cold.
"Denver?" Chace asks carefully. "Thought maybe you'd stick around after the Classic."
"I don't know yet." Hazel's voice is careful now. Defensive. "My leave already ended. They've been calling all week. I'm just—I'm keeping my options open. I mean, I'm here now. I'm helping with the ranch. But I don't know what happens after Fall Classic. I'm just taking it day by day."
Taking it day by day.
Keeping her options open.
Her leave already ended.
The words land like physical blows.
"Makes sense," Chace says quietly. "Don't want to burn bridges, right?"
"Right," Hazel says.
Shae changes the subject, steering the conversation toward Fall Classic prep, toward safer ground.
But I'm not listening anymore.
Five minutes ago I was standing here thinking about how right this felt. How settled. How happy.
I thought—
I don't know what I thought.
That maybe she'd decided without saying it. That staying at my place every night was a choice that mattered. That this routine we'd built meant something.
But she's keeping her options open.
Taking it day by day.
Like the last few weeks were just borrowed time.
The fire gets quieter. People start drifting toward the water. The group thins out.
I stay where I am, Hazel still against my side, but the ease from before is gone.
After a while, I lean down close to her ear. "Want another beer?"
She nods, and we drift away from the group toward my truck.
The tailgate's down already—Chace must've grabbed beer earlier. I hop up, reaching into the cooler, and Hazel follows, settling on the edge, legs dangling.
It's quieter here. Still close enough to hear the music and laughter, but far enough that we're not in the middle of it.
I hand her a beer and she takes it, our fingers brushing. She takes a sip, then looks up at the stars starting to appear overhead.
"It's nice," she says softly. "Being here. With everyone."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She glances at me. "I forgot what this felt like. Just... being part of things again."
I set my beer down and step closer, moving between her legs. Her breath catches.
"You are part of things," I say quietly. Because I need her to believe it as much as I do.
"I know. It just took me a while to remember that."
My hands find her thighs, warm and bare under my palms. She goes still, watching me.
"This," I say, running my hands up slowly. "Been thinking about this since you put those shorts on."
Her breath catches. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." My thumbs brush the inside of her thighs and she leans forward, her hands sliding to my chest.
"Eli—"
I kiss her. Hard. Her hands fist in my shirt and I pull her closer, needing her against me, needing—
"GET A ROOM!"
Chace's voice carries from across the clearing, followed by laughter.
Hazel pulls back, breathless, and laughs. "Jesus."
I grin, forehead resting against hers. "Subtle."
"Very." She's still smiling, cheeks flushed, and she doesn't move away. Just stays close, her hand on my chest, my hands still on her thighs.
"Should we go back?" she asks.
"Probably."
But neither of us moves right away.
Eventually, we head back toward the fire, her hand in mine. A few people glance over and grin, but nobody makes a big deal out of it.
We settle back into the group. Hazel leans against my side, and I keep my arm around her waist, not hiding, not careful.
Just us.
The conversation shifts to Shae's vet work. She mentions finishing her certification last week—three years of night classes finally done.
"That's amazing," Hazel says. "You must be relieved."
"You have no idea." Shae grins. "Dr. Morris wants me to take on more responsibility now. Better pay, better hours. And I've been thinking about mobile work eventually. Going ranch to ranch instead of waiting for emergencies."
"You'd be good at that," Hazel says.
"You think?"
"Yeah. You're bossy enough."
Shae laughs and flips her off.
The fire crackles. People talk and laugh.
But the tightness in my chest doesn't ease.
Hazel shifts, looking up at me. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You got quiet."
"Just tired."
She studies me for a second, then nods. "Yeah. Me too. Should we head out?"
"Yeah."
We say our goodbyes. Walk back to the truck together. She climbs in, and I follow, starting the engine and pulling out onto the dark road.
She's quiet for the first few minutes. Then she shifts in her seat, hand landing on my thigh again.
"Tonight was nice," she says.
"Yeah."
"I'm glad we went."
"Me too."
She's quiet for another beat. Her hand moves slightly, like she wants to say something but doesn't know how.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, Hazel."
The words come out flatter than I mean them to. She pulls her hand back. Just an inch. But I feel it.
She doesn't push. Just settles back in her seat, arms crossed now.
The silence isn't comfortable anymore.
When we reach my cabin, I expect her to say something. To acknowledge the distance opening between us.
She doesn't.
Just follows me inside, and the second the door closes behind us, she's on me.
Kissing me hard. Desperate. Her hands already tugging at my shirt.
I kiss her back, hands finding her hips, pulling her against me. Part of me knows this is avoidance. That we should talk about what she said at the lake.
But I don't want to talk.
I want this. Her hands on me. Her body against mine. Proof that she's still here, still mine, even if it's just right now.
Clothes come off and we fall into bed, and for a while nothing else matters.
***
After, she's curled against my side, her head on my chest, breathing soft and even. Asleep, maybe. Or close to it.
I stare at the ceiling, my hand running slow circles on her bare shoulder.
This morning I woke up thinking I had everything I wanted.
Her here. With me. Every morning. Every night.
I thought it meant something.
This is enough, I tell myself now. Right now. This moment. Her here with me.
This is enough.
But it's not.
Because I heard what she said tonight. Keeping her options open. Taking it day by day. Her leave already ended, and she still doesn't know if she's staying.
She's here. But she's not mine. Not really.
Not the way I need her to be.
I pull her closer, pressing my face into her hair, and tell myself it doesn't matter.
This is enough. It has to be.
But the tightness in my chest doesn't ease.
And I know—I know—it's not.