Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SADIE
I watch as Landon follows Wesley out of Lucky’s. The tension clinging to the air finally thins, but my pulse is still trying to punch its way out of my throat.
Lane tilts my chin, coaxing my gaze to his. I flinch before I can stop myself.
It’s not him—it’s me.
His touch is kind and patient and everything it should be.
But he isn’t Wesley.
“You okay?”
I nod, forcing a small smile. It’s not convincing—I can see it in his eyes—but he lets it go. He always lets it go.
The mood is shot, splintered somewhere between jealousy and guilt. Brantley’s making his rounds for last call, so the guys wave him over to settle up their tabs.
While we wait, Lydia hooks her fingers around my arm and pulls me aside.
“What the fuck was that?” she asks in disbelief. “Are you okay—like, actually okay?”
“I think so.” My voice sounds foreign in my own ears. “Or…I will be.”
She nods slowly, skeptical. “I can’t believe Wesley lost it like that. He’s usually the calm one.” Her brows pinch together. “But then again, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
She arches her brow, waiting for me to connect the dots. When I don’t catch on, she sighs.
“All I’m saying is, it’s not just Lane watching you like that.”
I blink at her. “You’ve officially lost your mind if you think Wesley has any feelings for me other than extreme disdain.”
She shrugs, unbothered. “Deny it all you want. Doesn’t make it less true.”
Before I can respond, Lane’s arms circle my waist from behind, his familiar smoky scent wrapping around me. I pause for half a breath before I lean into him.
It’s easier this way—to choose him. To let him hold me and pretend I don’t wish they were someone else’s hands.
I don’t want tonight to spiral into something it’s not. Wesley doesn’t get to steal this from me.
At least Lane is sober and kept his head. I can’t even imagine how much worse it could’ve been if they’d both been drinking.
After twenty minutes, we figure Landon and Wesley aren’t coming back in. Emmett shoves his phone in his pocket and throws down a tip for Brantley.
“Wes texted. Landon is driving them back to the ranch.” He exhales and glances at Lydia. “He said he’s sorry. For shoving you. And for everything else.”
“Whatever.” Lydia shrugs, brushing it off. But I catch the flicker of hurt in her eyes.
Things with Lane are good. Really good.
It’s been a little over a week since that night at Lucky’s and somehow, even in the chaos of peak season, we still manage to carve out time for each other.
Every cabin’s booked straight through September, guest activities stacked one after another. It should feel overwhelming, but the routine is actually comforting.
Heath gave the okay for me to help out on more of the trail rides, as long as the guys didn’t mind. I love it—being out there with the horses, the quiet stretch of the trails, the rhythm of it all.
Lane asks me to come with him on nearly every ride he leads. We work well together. It’s fun. It’s even more fun sneaking stolen kisses when no one’s looking.
Wesley never asks. He hardly even looks at me anymore. He’s been avoiding me completely, doing everything in his power to make sure our paths don’t cross.
Emmett has let me tag along a few times too, but only with smaller groups. He jokes that Heath would have a coronary if I got lost out there, but I remind him I’m an adult and he’s being dramatic.
My birthday’s in two days. Not that anyone here knows.
I don’t want them to. It’s just another day.
There’s nothing special about turning nineteen.
It’s a weird limbo age. I can’t legally buy cigarettes—not that I’d want to if I could.
Can’t rent a car. Can’t even book a hotel room in some places. So yeah, nothing special.
It’s been an easy morning. Iris hasn’t left my side, trotting behind me from stall to stall like a little shadow, tail wagging incessantly.
She’s already chewed through two pairs of gloves, but she’s too cute to stay mad at.
I’ll have to tell Emmett to add more to the list, since Wesley and I are playing the who can ignore the other harder game.
I’m halfway through sweeping when Iris lets out a sharp bark that startles me enough to drop the broom. I look up just in time to see her chasing Ozzy, one of the barn cats, paws skidding across the ground.
She is a menace, but I’ve become completely attached to her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lane leaning against a support beam, thermos in hand and that signature grin tugging at his mouth.
“She’s quite the little hell-raiser,” he drawls, holding the thermos out to me. “I added that vanilla creamer you like.”
I press up onto my tiptoes and kiss him, before taking it. My fingers brush his, lingering longer than they should. “My hero.”
He chuckles, tugging me closer for another kiss—deeper this time. The kind that makes my knees go weak. I part my lips, his tongue traces against mine, and everything else begins to fade at the edges.
“Hey, Sadie, do you know where a stupid green bucket is? Wes said it was in the st—oh shit.”
Emmett freezes in the breezeway, eyes wide and bouncing between us.
Oh shit, indeed.
I step back from Lane, heat rushing up my neck. But it’s too late.
The damage is done.
I knew we needed to stop procrastinating and be honest with Heath, but first we needed to talk about what this is between us.
Lane said everyone probably already suspected something, but suspecting and knowing are two very different things.
Now it’s confirmed. I’ve been lying and sneaking around and breaking the rules. They’re going to think the absolute worst of me.
Emmett’s gaze flicks between us. “You know what? I didn’t see anything,” he says evenly. “I came in looking for a bucket. It wasn’t here. Then I left.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
He feigns confusion. “What are you sorry for?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “Sorry you didn’t find that green bucket.”
“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, already backing out the door.
The silence he leaves behind hums.
“Well,” Lane says quietly. “That could’ve gone way worse.”
I laugh, but it comes out thin. The reality weighs heavy on my chest. That could’ve easily been Heath. We can’t keep sneaking around like this. Not after that.
I turn to him, my pulse thudding for an entirely different reason now. “What are we doing?”
He blinks. “Tonight? I thought we were all going to Lucky’s—“
“No,” I interrupt, gesturing between us. “I mean, what is this?”
He studies me, careful. “I thought it was obvious.”
“If it was, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”
“That’s fair.” He exhales slowly. “Um. We’re together. You’re my girl.”
My heart stumbles.
“Is that okay?” he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is light, attentive.
I nod, smiling through the lump in my throat. “But…I think we should tell Heath.”
“We can do that. Tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, love.” His voice dips low, a promise. “Anything else you want?”
“Say it again.”
He pulls me close, presses his lips to my hair, and whispers against my skin.
“You’re my girl.”
It’s just me and Lydia at lunch.
Lane and Wesley are leading a large group on a trail ride and they’ll be out most of the day. The thought makes my stomach knot.
I know Lane will keep his cool—he always does—but it’s Wesley I’m worried about. Something’s been off with him lately. He’s been distant and detached—more than usual. Like he’s somewhere else entirely.
Maybe it’s nothing—just Wesley being Wesley—but I can’t shake the feeling it’s more than that.
Hopefully he can keep it professional in front of the guests. Heath is pretty no-nonsense about that kind of thing. I’m guessing it’s the entire reason he implemented the no dating rule in the first place, to avoid unnecessary drama and emotional outbursts.
And yet here I am, involved in a complicated entanglement, and the reason for his son being broodier than usual. I hate that we’ve been keeping this from Heath. Especially after everything he’s done for me.
You’re my girl.
The words echo in my chest, soft and grounding.
Everything’s happening fast—too fast, probably—but I refuse to let myself slow down to question it. This is what I want. Lane is the safe option. I like the way he makes me feel. I like how easy it is to be wanted by him, how his attention feels steady and uncomplicated.
Lydia steals a fry off my plate, popping it in her mouth. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Just a little anxious,” I admit, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Wesley and Lane are out there together, and I don’t think they’ve talked since…everything.”
“Right,” she says, too breezily. “They’ll be fine.”
I try to believe her, but the little voice in my mind says otherwise. Lydia’s known Wesley her whole life. If she’s not worried, maybe I shouldn’t be either.
Still, I hate not knowing and imagining every worst possible scenario.
I stab at a fry and push the plate away. The grease sheen on the paper catches the light, and my stomach shifts, unsettled, like the air before a storm.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Lydia snatches it before I can. Her grin falters as she reads the screen.
“Who’s Mia?”
“What?”
She turns the screen toward me.
Mia
I know. I suck. Officially the worst friend ever. Robyn’s practically had me on house arrest and then I kind of dropped off the face of the earth. I’m sorry. I miss you. SO MUCH. What are you doing for your birthday?? Please say something chaotic. I need a vicarious thrill.
My stomach drops. Shit. Mia has always been a good friend to me. My best friend. Definitely better than Tori. I miss her.
“She said birthday plans,” Lydia prods. “Whose birthday?”
I tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling and soaking in the final wishful seconds where the day after tomorrow is just another day.
“Mine. In two days.” She opens her mouth, but I beat her to it. “And before you even start—I really do not want it to be a big deal, okay?”